Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(24)

She liked it.

The Wonder Wheel came to another stop, and this time, they hung from the top, the car swaying slightly. Kyrnon shifted his grip on her, and just that quickly, she became all too aware of the position they were in, and just how close they were.

And as she shifted her gaze from the small window in the door to him, it was clear he was aware too.

“Story time over?” he asked, his voice gone low, his eyes fixated on her mouth.

“Yeah.”

The word was barely out of her mouth before he had a hand curled around the back of her head, tugging her down to press his mouth against hers. While his lips might have been soft, his kiss was firm, unyielding.

She returned it with a sigh, her fingers curling into his shirt. Now she was happy it was so dark around them, making it impossible for anyone to see.

It was easy losing herself in the feel of him—the way his grip tightened on her like they just couldn’t be close enough.

Only when the wheel started again did she draw away, but didn’t go far. His expression was hard to read in the dark of night, but she could feel the evidence of exactly how he was feeling as she shifted in his lap.

“I can take you home if you want …” he said trailing off, his hold still possessive.

She thought of his words from earlier. “But where’s the fun in that?”





Chapter Seven





On the drive to Kyrnon’s place, the panda bear stuck between their bodies, the skies had opened up, rain pelting them on their way to his loft. Luckily, Amber’s flannel protected her, but she didn’t doubt by the time they got to his place, she would be soaked through.

She tried not to think too much about going to his place. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had a one-night-stand before, but she usually didn’t go back to their place. There was something about the security of her own space that made her more comfortable.

Turning down a street in Brooklyn, rows of old warehouses that had been converted into luxury lofts over the last couple of years lined the street. Despite the number of cars, it was rather quiet besides the roar of Kyrnon’s pipes.

The building they stopped in front of was an old mill if she wasn’t mistaken—a former cotton candy factory from years ago. And she could just smell the slightest traces of spun sugar in the air as they got closer.

There was something about older, industrial spaces that she loved. They weren’t as polished and perfect, and depending on the loft, it could hold a lot of character in its walls.

Driving around the side of the building, Kyrnon killed the engine, helping her off first before he did the same. Adjacent to the garage door he had parked in front of was a keypad, one that didn’t just require a four-digit code, but Kyrnon also had to press his thumb against a green checkered screen before a beep sounded and the whirrs of the motor for the elevator sounded.

Sliding both doors to the elevator open, he gestured for her to go ahead of him before rolling his bike in.

It was a short ride up a floor, and once they were in his place, she had her first look around. She might not have known what to expect, but she did know that what she saw fit him.

An oversized Irish flag hung on the wall, a tarp on the floor in front of it with parts of a motorcycle littered on top of it. There was a large, comfortable looking sectional made of worn brown leather that helped divide the living and dining rooms, an island with a polished concrete top sectioning off the kitchen.

And the kitchen … his kitchen was what dreams were made of. Stainless steel appliances. Dark cabinetry. If she could choose any kitchen to model her dream home after, it would be this one.

And if she were being honest, she loved everything about his space. There was just so much room for everything, and with the sheer vastness of it, she knew he had to have paid a good amount for it. She was already over paying for her much smaller one bedroom, so she couldn’t imagine what this place cost him.

Noticing the look of wonder on her face, Kyrnon asked, “D’you like it?”

“It’s amazing,” she said, but he had to already know that.

There was even a wall of windows so tall she had to crane her neck back to see the top, but even more interesting was how some of the panes had been exchanged for colored glass.

“Just wait until you see the bedroom,” he said as he headed in that direction.

The thing about lofts, it was hard to tell where one room began and the other ended, but from what Amber could see, Kyrnon had made it a point to have walls constructed around his bedroom, but these too were made of glass, only frosted, allowing some semblance of privacy.

Laying both hands on the handles, he pushed the doors open, revealing what had to be a California king. While Kyrnon disappeared into his closet, she had a look around his bedroom.

His bed was situated against the wall of exposed brick, soft gray linens covering it. The duvet was rumpled and hanging half off the bed like he had just rolled out of it and left it as it were.

“Bad luck,” Kyrnon said popping back out, “I only have shirts.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t like the T-shirt he was offering her would swallow her, only just big enough to maybe go a few inches past her stomach, but it was the fact that his smile of triumph was so blatantly male that she was shaking her head. “Really? Is that the best you can come up with?”