Beneath the Surface (13 page)

He zeroed in on her tongue as she licked her lips, and without any real conscious thought she climbed onto his chair and straddled his lap.

“I don’t think this is wise,” Kyran said on an exhale, although he didn’t attempt to remove her.

She tugged on his tie, smiling at him. “Maybe not, but then I was never all that clever. Dad says I’m too spontaneous.”

“Right now I would have to agree with him.”

“Shush,” she said, placing her finger across his lips. “There’s no one here. They’ve all gone home for the day. It’s just us.”

“That doesn’t make it okay, Dale. And why are we whispering?”

She loosened his tie. “Ha! You called me Dale. You totally want this.”

“No, I want to go and pound the crap out of someone at Metro.”

“You can do that . . . after you do me.”

Kyran laughed, opening his mouth to reveal his perfect teeth and rose-pink tongue. Dale’s stomach flipped with desire.

“You’re a walking hormone. I thought that was the man’s role,” Kyran said.

Unbuttoning his top button, she wriggled in his lap. Dale enjoyed the sounds of his pleasure as she rubbed against his growing erection. Kyran gripped her thighs, kissed the tip of her nose, and said, “Did you really want to talk about Taylor?”

She pulled his tie from his collar and then let it float to the floor. “Of course I did. I’m concerned about him.”

“Don’t waste your energy.” He began kissing along her jaw. “He’s not worth it.”

She slipped a few more buttons free, humming when her hands connected with warm flesh. “You don’t mean that.” She slipped her hands across his chest. “Deep down you’re concerned.”

Kyran didn't look at her when he said, “No. Not at all.”

Dale didn’t believe a word. “How often does he get like that?”

He skimmed his hand up her thighs, pushing her skirt to her waist, and began toying with her satin panties. Dale’s skin began to heat, every nerve ending starting to tingle. He took his sweet time, stroking her skin far too slowly.

“Most mornings. He hides until he looks alive. I warned you.” Dale moaned when he nibbled her neck. “He’s ridiculous. Time just makes him worse, not better.”

“He needs help.” She gasped, grabbing his head and holding him close.

“
I
need help. You can’t turn up in my office and start to seduce me.

You ruined it by talking about my brother.”

“But he needs you, Kyran.”

“
I
need
you
. That’s what I need.” His words were whispered as he delved his fingers beneath her satin panties to cup her sex. He growled and crushed his lips against hers. They kissed with ferocity. Dale pushed his shirt off his shoulders, desperate to feel his flesh, dying to see his inked arms.

“You said not at work,” Dale said

“I lied.”

She opened her mouth, ready to carry on the conversation when Kyran startled her by grabbing her shirt and ripping it open. Buttons flew in all directions, scattering around the office and making her gasp.

“I hate your suits and shirts. You should wear the sweater you had on the other night. Without one of these,” he said, snapping open the front of her bra. “In fact, I should just demand you never wear
anything
again.”

“You will demand nothing.” She was pissed at him. How dare he demand anything from her? He may have been teasing but she didn’t like that he thought he could make her do what he wanted. “I’m not your puppy, Kyran. You should know that by now.”

His emerald eyes twinkled. She could see he enjoyed the banter between them as much as she did. “You said that on purpose.” She slapped his chest when he smirked. “You complete asshat.”

Dale tried to slap his chest again, but Kyran caught her wrist.

“Another name for the list. You have such a dirty mouth, Dale, always thinking up new ways to berate me. Come with me.”

“What? I came to you. I want it here. Now.”

Her protests morphed into a squeal as he stood up with her in his arms.

Dale wrapped her legs around his waist, going wherever he was about to take her.

“I don’t want to have sex with you in my office. We could get caught.

I’d prefer you in bed begging for my cock.” Dale swallowed hard. “But as that’s not possible, I’ll settle for the quarters I have just through that door.”

“A couch?”

“Oh, yes. A large, comfy couch that can take a vigorous workout.”

They laughed as Kyran jostled her around so that he could open the door. Dale didn’t have a chance to look around the room because within seconds she found herself on her back, Kyran hovering over her.

“Better,” he said, lowering his head to her breasts and kissing his way to her nipple. Dale’s eyes fluttered closed, letting her lust thunder out of control. She was hungry for him—always hungry for him. She grew increasingly greedy. The more she got of him the more she wanted. It would never be enough.

Kyran circled his tongue around her taut nipple, and he moved his hand to cup her ass. His touch was strong and dominant. A month ago she would have been turned off by such possession, but now, with Kyran, she could imagine it no other way. His control over her body fueled her desire as much as his tattoos did.

He removed his tongue and grazed his teeth across her nipple.

Lowering his knees to the floor, he slid down her body. Slowly, he removed her skirt and panties and threw them onto a pile that included her discarded heels. Kyran left her sprawled on the couch while he walked back to the door and closed it. The click of the lock reverberated around the room. Like the chiming of a clock, it marked the start of their time together.

It also underlined that, yet again, they had broken one of the few rules of their relationship.

“Kyran.” She tried to stop him, even though she had been the one to initiate it. She was having second thoughts about having sex while at work.

He halted her with a shake of his head. He unbuckled his belt, slipped it from his waist, and began to undo his pants.

“I don’t want to talk. I want to fuck. You. And the only thing you’ll be saying is my name when you scream it as I make you come.”

“Dad wants to know why you missed family night again on Tuesday.”

Dale peeled the label from her beer. “I was busy.”

Continuing his task at the cash register, Trace shrugged. “Seems like you’re real busy these days. Dad’s concerned.”

His back was to her, but she didn’t need to see his face to know he was scowling. Dale knew Trace almost as well as she knew herself. Although since Kyran had entered her life, she had discovered a new side to herself.

A side that ran on lust and desire. A side that functioned at a baser level than normal.

“It’s my new job.” She tried to make it clear she was teasing. “The bosses there are horrendous. I barely have time for lunch.”

“You could have called him.” He turned to face her, his sharp blue eyes appearing to see through her lies. He pushed his messy brown hair out of his face and rolled up the sleeves of his plaid shirt.

“I know. I will.”

Dale felt guilty. Trace was right; she should have called. The past month had flown by in a series of office battles, e-mails, bare-knuckled fights, and sex. Half of the time, she had no idea what day it was. Her life had turned upside down, and she couldn't decide whether or not it was a good thing.

Kyran consumed her. Every waking thought was centered on him. It had become so absorbing that she even thought of him when she picked out her clothes each day. Especially her underwear. The man had become central to her daily life. She could feel him everywhere, even when he wasn’t next to her. His body was imprinted on hers.

Leaning his elbows on the bar between them, Trace nodded. “I know you will. I just wonder when. He misses you.”

Dale’s stomach twisted. She should have called, but in truth, the thought hadn’t even entered her head.

“Seen you around here a lot over the last few weeks.” He jutted his chin in the direction of the locker rooms. “I’ve been watching you with one of the guys.”

Dale thought about lying. However, it would serve no purpose. Her brother worked the bar most nights at Metro, so she couldn’t hide from him. She did wonder how much he’d seen of her and Kyran—how much they gave away and whether he knew who Kyran was.

“Um, Kyran? Yeah. He’s really good in the ring.”

“Since when have you been into boxing, sis?”

She opened her mouth, even though she didn’t know what she was going to say. Trace raised his brows. “So it’s not the boxing. It’s the guy.”

Hiding behind her hair, she mumbled. “It’s nothing.”

“I don’t believe a word, D. You forget, I know your tells, and hiding behind your hair is one of them.”

The bar began to fill and Trace left her to serve a beer or two. She downed the rest of hers, enjoying the sharp tang on her taste buds as the noise that surrounded her increased. Kyran would enter the room any minute, hands clenched and ready to fight. Sam would be building him up, preparing him mentally, and making sure his muscles were warmed. She got nervous for him, although her concern was more than worrying how she would conceal his next bruise. Fights went wrong all the time, increasing in violence and leaving someone hurt. Kyran’s confidence would only get him so far. He couldn’t win every match.

“Sorry.” Trace returned to his spot in front of her. “You know how it gets before the fight starts.”

“Yeah. I will call Dad, Trace. Promise. I’m just a bit caught up in stuff.”

“Reese, you mean.”

“His name’s Kyran.” She passed him her empty beer bottle.

Trace held up another bottle, asking without words if she wanted another one. Dale nodded, taking it from him.

“It’s a bit soon, don’t you think? After Joel, I mean.”

Dale’s head snapped up, unease and anger mingling in her bloodstream. The mention of her ex’s name hurt far more than she wanted it to. “Joel ended it, Trace. Not me. I’m moving on.” She punctuated her words with a fake smile.

“He came in here last week.”

“I don’t want to know,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’s done.

Done.”

Trace took a swig of water, and then wagged his finger at her. “It’s only over because of what happened. You’d still be all loved up if you hadn’t found them.”

“But I did. Saw it all picture-perfect HD and heard the grunts in Dolby. It wasn’t nice, and it fucking sliced me in two, so I don’t need to know that he was in here or who he was with.”

“No one.” Trace added right away. “The guy was alone. Asking how you were. I kept my mouth shut, before you start ranting. It didn’t stop him spilling his guts, though. He seemed to think that I’d be on his side because we played pool a few times. Moron.”

“Trace.” It was a warning. “Drop. It.”

The crowd cheered. A fight was about to start.

“Okay. Dropping the subject, but just so you know, he isn’t with Shelby. He isn’t with anyone. Maybe you could give Shelby a call? She was your best friend.”

Dale flipped him the bird. “I no longer care. I’m staying away from both of them. They deserve to rot.”

Clutching her beer, she spun around on her stool, and faced the circle of people. She gazed from the rowdy customers to the locker room door, anticipating Kyran’s entrance. The jeers grew louder when a tall, olive-skinned man entered the chalked circle. He wore only shorts along with his wrapped knuckles. Kyran’s opponent.

The man bounced on the balls of his feet, rolling his shoulders as he warmed up. Bets were still being taken on who would win, the odds swiftly altered on the chalkboard on the wall. Kyran was still the favorite. Like always.

Dale waited, staring at the locker room door. Her stomach flip-flopped in excitement. She loved this time, reveled in the enthusiasm. She’d perched on the same stool every fight she’d watched, keeping her distance but staying close enough to appreciate every movement of Kyran’s body.

On reflection, her enjoyment was rather sadistic because she liked to watch the men fighting with her . . . her what? She struggled to find a name for what Kyran was to her.

The door to the locker room opened and Kyran stood in the empty space. As usual, his chest was bare, and Dale salivated at the sight of the black ink adorning his arms. She doubted she would ever tire of the sight.

Kyran thinned his eyes as he searched the room and assessed the crowd. Dale smiled when he finally settled on her. The side of his mouth lifted, and he winked at her before walking into the chalked circle.

Dale gripped the seat of the stool with both hands, bracing herself for the fight to begin. The cheering escalated; the whole club primed and ready for the fight. They shouted Kyran’s name, along with the name Angelo.

Dale could only assume it was the name of Kyran’s competition. Kyran looked confident, jumping on the spot and rolling his head to stretch his neck just like Angelo had done before him. A bead of sweat trickled down her spine as anxiety flowed like acid within her guts. Needing to calm herself, she took a long drink from her beer and held her breath . . . waiting.

The clanging of a bell signaled the start, swiftly followed by Kyran’s rather wiry opponent throwing a right jab aimed at Kyran’s face. He |

bobbed out of the way, weaving enough to land a decent punch on his competitor’s ribs. Angelo stumbled back, Dale’s pulse kicking up a notch as she hoped for a quick finish. It wasn’t to be; Kyran’s opposition quickly gained his bearings, lashing out with a series of jabs, punches, and uppercuts. One connected with Kyran’s jaw, and his head snapped back.

Dale gasped and tightened her hold on her stool. She leaned forward, yelling into the crowd. Kyran had asked her not to shout out because even in the noisy club, he could hear her voice over everyone’s. She distracted him. Nevertheless, whenever he got hurt, she would let rip a string of obscenities, unable to ignore his pain.

Kyran sent out a counterpunch, hooking his arm out and making contact with his adversary’s cheek. Dale whooped with pride and shouted for Kyran to get another punch in.

The men circled each other, their chests heaving. Kyran’s shorts dropped lower on his hips, flashing a set of dimples at the base of his spine.