by Karina Halle
Steph exchanged a look with Linden and chewed on her lip before facing me.
“You and Lachlan,” she said cautiously. “You guys just kissed last night, right?”
I jerked my head back. “Yeah. What…why does that matter?”
She swallowed thickly and looked at Linden again. “Well, I just wanted to make sure how freaked out you would or wouldn’t get. If you just kissed, then you should be fine with it.”
“Fine with what? What the hell, Stephanie? Just say it.”
“He’s on a date with Justine,” she said, and then quickly downed the rest of her cider.
My heart lurched. Actually lurched, like it was saying goodbye to my chest and moving on out. “What?”
She shrugged. “Linden told me.”
I turned to him, as if it was all his fault. “Bram told me,” he said defensively. “Sorry, Kayla. I’m sure it’s just for business. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Ugh. I wanted to be sick. “How do you know that?”
“She doesn’t seem like his type.”
“Well, neither do I and…” I paused and shook my head. “Fuck. Fuck this shit. I’m such an idiot.”
“You’re not,” Steph said. “It’s just a date.”
“No, I know that,” I told her, rather harshly. “He’s leaving soon, so what’s the difference, right? I’m just such an idiot for caring. Like, Jesus. One kiss and I’m fucking broken-hearted that he’s gone on some date. Who is this Kayla? I don’t like her.”
“Hey,” Steph said, putting her hand on my shoulder and shaking me. “It’s okay to care, you know. I’ve never seen you care before. Maybe it’s a good thing…to know what you want in the future.”
I shrugged away from her. In that moment I didn’t want to hear any of that crap. “But what I want is now on a date with some rich bitch he’s been on a few dates with before. I just…ugh. Whatever. I’m out of here.”
I angrily slid out of the booth and got to my feet. I left the bar in a cloud of defeat and went straight back home. I kept berating myself over and over again for the feelings that were moving through me like a swarm of hornets.
This was exactly what I didn’t want. This was why I decided to shun off men. I thought that by avoiding sex I could avoid disappointment, but I hadn’t even had the chance to fuck him yet, and here I was, disappointed as hell.
So now I’m in my apartment, curled up on the couch with a few glasses of wine in me. I’m “Netflix and chilling” without having anyone to chill with. The wine is dulling the anger, but not that weird sickly feeling in my chest. I go through nearly an entire season of New Girl, hoping Schmidt and Nick will make me laugh, but finding myself getting sadder. More pathetic.
This is bullshit.
I lie back on the couch and stare at the ceiling. I want to rewind the last few weeks and pretend I never went to the Lion that one night, that I’d never seen Lachlan McGregor because before that, I was doing fucking fine. Then I had to see his goddamn stupid beautiful face and become an obsessive, desperate horndog. How could this man, how could any man, do this to me, render me so bare and vulnerable? That was never part of the plan. I wanted to get under his skin, not the other way around. I was supposed to come out of this game on top, fighting through the challenge of it all and getting what I wanted.
I was supposed to be the player here.
I want to pull up the edges of my black heart and pull it around me like a blanket. From now on, the moment I feel myself being lured by anything other than the physical, I’m out. I’m sticking to my damn vow, and if it ever does break one day, it’s for just sex and nothing more. Anything more than sex isn’t Kayla friendly.
I start to drift off, feeling better about my new plan, my new resolve. I want the dreams to take me away and tomorrow I’ll start a new me. The old me.
The apartment buzzer goes off, making me jolt. I inhale sharply and look at my phone for the time, but I turned it off a while ago, not wanting to be disturbed. It’s probably Steph coming to check up on me. I could have used her earlier in the night when I was a ball of rage, ready to bitch and ramble on, but now I am more subdued, sleepy, and kind of drunk, and not in the mood to talk about anything.
I walk over to the buzzer and press the button.
“Steph?”
“Uh, no,” says the deep Scottish brogue over the speaker. “It’s not.”
I freeze. My heart hammers.
Oh shit. Lachlan?
“Hello?” he says again. “Kayla? Can I please speak with you?”
No, no, no. Definitely not. Think of your plan, the new old you, I tell myself.
But I still press the button to let him in.
Fuck.
I look down at what I’m wearing. The fucking t-shirt he lent me and nothing else.
Oh god. I need to change. I need to fix my face, my hair. I need to not let him in.
But seconds later he’s knocking at the door.
I breathe in deeply, trying not to let those dumbass, unwanted, unwarranted emotions get the best of me. Be cool, girl, I tell myself. Like ice.
I slide the chain across and open the door.
Lachlan is standing there. In a fucking suit and tie. Hair slicked back, just enough stubble on that angular jaw. Perma-frown. Towering over me like some well-dressed god.
Oh my god. I am so doomed.
“Just come from a wedding?” I attempt a joke. My mouth is drier than a desert.
“Can I come in?” he asks, his shoulders hunched up. “Please?”
Be cool, be cool.
“Sure,” I say, opening the door wider with a shrug, pretending I’m not hurt, not mad, and definitely not wearing just his t-shirt.
He walks past me and all I want to do is breathe in his scent. Well, that’s not all I want to do.
I shut the door behind him, resting my forehead briefly on it and gathering courage before turning around to face him.
He’s standing in the middle of the room, staring right at me. Jesus. He’s so beautiful to look at it almost hurts. It does hurt.
“I need to explain something.”
I cross my arms. “What?”
“I know what Stephanie told you,” he says. “About me and Justine.”
I shrug, trying to play it off. “Oh well, that’s cool.”
His frown deepens. “I heard you were upset.”
I give him a tight smile. “I don’t get upset,” I tell him and walk over to the kitchen to busy myself with something.
“Yes, you do,” he says, eyes following me. “I’ve seen you get upset. I know your voice when you’re upset.”
I want to challenge him, to tell him that he doesn’t know me at all. But I don’t want that. I want him to know me. I want him to think he does.
“And so I’m upset now?” I say. “Why?”
He chews on his lower lip for a second and finally looks away. “Because. You want me.”
I can’t help but let out a shocked laugh. Obviously it’s true, but I can’t believe he has the audacity to just say it so bluntly.
His eyes slide to me again, feverish and hard. “Don’t you?”
Suddenly it’s not so funny anymore. I lean against the counter, my hands gripping the edge while my mind tries to think of what to say, how to possibly answer that. Finally I tell the truth. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “So?”
“So,” he says, voice low, almost delicate, “last night was something I’ve needed…for a long time. It may have been just a walk in the park and a kiss to you, love, but to me…it was far more. And I want to know if it was more to you.”
I can only stare back at him, locked in the intensity of his gaze. He’s looking at me like he’s peeling back the layers, determined to get to the core.
My throat is dry and my heart pounds with excitement and anxiety. What is he doing? What am I doing? There is so much space between us, and I don’t know how to bridge the gap or if I want him to, because if it happens it’s going to be so much more than I
can handle.
“You’re leaving on Sunday,” I tell him. “That’s less than a week.”
“So?” he says. “What does that have to do with anything?”
I cock my head. “It means…well, what can happen between now and then?”
“I can fuck your brains out,” he says gruffly. “That’s what can happen.”
Holy shit.
Did he seriously just say he could fuck my brains out? I stare at him with wide eyes, dumbfounded and turned on in an instant. It’s hard to swallow. It’s hard to think. “Uh…”
“But before I do,” he says, starting to loosen his tie. He takes a step forward. Oh god. “I need you to know that tonight I was helping Bram. Justine was never anything other than a favor, and no, I didn’t fuck her. Not even close. Whatever it was though, it’s done. And for the next week, the only thing on my radar is you.” He takes another step toward me, pulling off his tie and tossing it at my feet. “On this counter, in your bed, against the wall. Whatever way I can.”
Oh Jesus.
My legs start to tremble and I tightly grip the edge of the counter. I’ve wanted this more than anything, and now that it’s slowly walking toward me, like I’m the prey, I’ve turned into a mute chicken shit. It was so different when I was chasing him. Now that he wants me, he actually wants me…I’m terrified that I won’t survive it.
He’s only a foot away and I can feel the heat of his presence as he begins to eclipse me. He shrugs off his suit jacket and tosses it on the counter, his eyes never leaving my body. My skin smolders under his gaze as he slowly looks me up and down. “You’re wearing my shirt,” he says, his voice soft and rough at the same time.
He reaches out, grabbing the end of it, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. He’s so close now. I’m still a statue made of throbbing blood and a wildly beating heart, and I can’t move an inch. I can’t do anything but watch him, every movement, every breath, every look. He’s so physical, immense—he’s become my world.
His eyes drift lower. He leans down into me, his mouth at my ear, his hands moving down my thighs. “Another no pants party?” he murmurs. I shiver, goosebumps from his breath and the bass of his voice. His large, warm palms trail back up my bare skin, lifting up my shirt and skimming over the lace of my underwear.
“Depends what you mean by pants,” I manage to say.
His lips close gently around my earlobe, teeth razing my skin, the heat from his breath lighting firecrackers down the expanse of my neck. His fingers curl around the edge of my underwear, pulling them down my hips, lifting me forward slightly so he can get them over my ass. I’m between both of his hot hands and it makes me realize how damned small I am compared to him.
My underwear falls down to my knees, then down to the floor, and I’m naked except for the shirt. He licks his lips and I want to shove those fucking lips down between my legs and hold him there until I come. I swear it won’t take long.
His grip on my hips intensifies. He lifts me up effortlessly, placing my bare ass on the cold counter, and moves forward between my legs, my underwear dangling from one foot.
He places his beautiful hands on either side of my face, holding me in place, his nostrils flaring as he breathes in hard. It’s as if he’s trying to restrain himself, and I want him to let go and unleash it all on me, everything that he has. The furrow between his brows only deepens as he tries to drink me in with his eyes. I’m holding my breath, wanting so much, and he keeps searching me, trying to read me.
Just fucking take me, I want to say. Read this.
My mouth parts.
His eyes drop to my lips.
His gaze burns.
Carnal.
Predatory.
Unwavering.
It’s the flash of light before the bomb hits.
Then it hits.
He pulls my face forward and his lips crash against mine, fevered, crazed and wild. His hands sink into my hair and my hands fumble for the buttons on his shirt. Our mouths are lost to each other in a race, a battle, where both of us win. It’s breathless, desperate. This kiss is nothing like the other kiss—it’s pure molten heat, wet lips and hard pressure, like we’re creating a diamond.
My toes curl.
My heart somersaults.
I’m lost to him.
I’m drowning under the onslaught of his tongue, each hot, torrid stroke inside my mouth making me absolutely drenched.
I wrap my legs around his waist, greedy and eager, and I pull him to me. We both moan into each other’s mouths. He’s as hard as cement and pressing against me in all the right places. With just the slightest movement, the fabric of his pants brushes over my clit and I almost lose my mind.
One hand makes a fist in my hair, tugging at it and making me shiver, while his lips bruise me, our mouths messy and hard, teeth hitting teeth in our uncontrollable need to devour each another.
I’m absolutely rabid for this beautiful man. With his white shirt unbuttoned, I drag my nails over the hard planes of his chest, over the tuft of hair and the expanse of inked art. I reach down to the waistband of his pants and undo the button, while his mouth goes for my neck again, sucking, biting, and I throw my head back to give him better access.
I deftly undo the button and zip down his fly before sliding my hand over his hardness. Holy fuck. He does go commando. The long, heated length of him pulses beneath my palm and he lets out a low, rough growl that vibrates down my spine.
“Oh fuck,” he groans, breathing hard into my neck. “I’m already going to explode.”
“That makes two of us,” I tell him. He’s so fucking huge, and just touching his cock is bringing me to the edge. I don’t know how I’ll survive it inside of me but I’m dying to try.
I wrap my hands around firmer and free it from his pants. I curl forward, glancing down to see. He grows harder, firmer in my hands, the tip dark, flushed, and gleaming. Oh god, I just want to put it in my mouth, all of it, sucking, tasting every inch of him.
At the same time I want him deep inside of me, as far as I can take him, even though he could break me in two.
What a fucking predicament.
I start stroking him, running the precum over his silky hot ridge, pausing at the round and full tip, before going back down again, one hand going further, down over his balls. Lachlan’s got a fair amount of hair on his arms, chest, and treasure trail, so thank god for manscaping. I gently cup his balls in my hand and he shudders against me.
“Oh love,” he says, raspy, sucking in his breath. “Don’t ruin me just yet.”
I bite my lip and smile at the effect I have on him. I want to ruin him and I want him to ruin me. The need, the power, is intoxicating.
He pulls back for a second, watching with a delirious look in his hooded eyes as my hands work him up and down. His scrapes his teeth over his lower lip then slowly looks up at me. “You’ll have to stop that or I’m going to come right here and now,” he warns.
I pause and grip his gorgeous cock tighter. His eyes roll back in his head, and the muscles in his thick neck are corded, straining. “Make me,” I tease.
He grunts and moves back into me, ripping the shirt over my head, causing me to let go. My nipples are as hard as pebbles, and he cups my breast, licking a path to the center. He takes one in his mouth and I’m swept away by the warmth, by the fire-laced nerves that radiate out from me.
“Oh god,” I cry out softly.
He makes a noise of agreement against my breast, causing more nerves to incinerate. He slips his hand below, sliding it over my clit which is slick as sin.
“You’re fucking soaked” he says huskily before taking my nipple between his teeth and pulling slightly. “I knew you’d have a greedy little pussy.”
I moan, trying to tell him that it was pretty obvious that I did, but my words are ripped from my mouth as he pushes one big finger inside of me, the roughness igniting my screamingly sensitive skin. The heavy penetration seems to roll through me and I automaticall
y jerk my hips forward, bringing his finger further inside.
He makes a low, guttural sound and pulls out slowly before adding another finger. I bite my lip to keep from yelling his name as he expertly slides his fingers over the swollen bundle of nerves that threatens to destroy me from the inside out.
“Fuck,” I moan, my mouth open and gasping as my senses are nearly blinded.
“That’s coming,” he says before flicking my nipple with his tongue. “And so are you.” He pulls his fingers out and then pushes three in and I’m breathless and shaking. Crazed. His fingers are so thick, it’s nearly unbearable. It’s the size of an average cock, and from the way he plunges them in and out, he works them like one, too.
His thumb brushes over my clit and I’m seconds from losing my mind, from losing everything.
“Wait,” I cry out desperately. “Please. Not yet, not yet. I want to come around your cock. I want you to feel me squeeze you as I come.”
He pauses and lifts his thumb away. He takes his mouth away from my breast, his beard wet with moisture as his heavy eyes gaze at me. “I plan on making you come all night long, love.”
I’m breathing hard, my hand going to the back of his thick neck that’s already damp with sweat. “The first time I want you inside me. As deep and hard and fast as you can go. Fuck me into oblivion. Then make me come again and again and again after that.”
“So fucking greedy,” he mutters. He shakes his head slightly, a hint of a smile on his glistening lips. “You’re going to bring me to my knees, aren’t you, gorgeous?”
“I’ll be on my knees first,” I say, leaning forward and grabbing his lower lip between my teeth and tugging. “I’m going to put your massive, swollen cock in my mouth and suck you off until you don’t know your own name.”
“Jesus,” he curses roughly, the heat in his green eyes growing hotter. “Fucking little dirty talker you are.”
I bring my mouth to the soft spot where his jaw meets his neck, the stubble brushing against my bruised lips. “Give me dirty and I’ll keep talking.”
“You may regret saying that,” he says between moans as I suck at his neck. “I’ve got a lot to give.”
It occurs to me that he’s talking far more now than he was before. If my strong, silent beast turns into a filthy blabbermouth in the bedroom, there will be no complaints from me.