Finding Kyle(31)

But before I can even think what that might look like, he says, “Thanks again for dinner,” and then turns back toward the screened door.

My shoulders sag at the cold brush-off and I turn away, telling myself with absolute certainty I need to give up on him. He’s just not interested.

I get no more than two steps toward the first porch step before Kyle’s hand clamps on my wrist and he’s spinning me back toward him. My mouth falls open in a gasp of surprise, only to be covered with his as he pulls me roughly to him.

He puts a hand to the back of my head, another at my hip where he squeezes once before pulling me flush against his body, and then he kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before.

Never, ever kissed like this before.

Certainly not like last night, which was gentle and exploratory, hesitancy a barrier. But this is a full-on assault on all of my senses. His mouth is urgent, rough, and demanding. His tongue immediately claims mine, and I give it up to him without a second thought.

My hands reach blindly to grip into his t-shirt, and then claw inward so I can hold him tightly so he can’t get away and I can’t fall down because my knees are so weak.

Almost as if he’s satisfied that I would never in a million years think to pull my mouth from his, his hand drops from my head to take my other hip and he presses me into him.

And I feel everything.

Every inch of his hard body.

Most importantly, I feel his erection pressing into my stomach, and I go dizzy from how quickly this has escalated.

A tiny moan flutters up from my throat and doesn’t even hesitate before it slithers into his mouth. Kyle’s fingers dig harder into my hips as I press my body tightly against his, my arms now snaking around his shoulders. My fingers touch the back of his neck, sliding upward to the back of his head where they rub against the stubble of his shorn hair briefly before gliding back down and around to lie against his chest.

I can feel the mad hammering of his heart, and mine seems to gallop at the same speed within my chest. My entire body is on fire, my limbs feel like jello, and an ache throbs between my legs. In this very moment, I’ve never been more turned on in my entire life by a man, and if we were in my house, I’d indeed be spreading my legs for him.

Not a doubt in my mind that’s what I’d be doing.

But then Kyle hesitates, his mouth pausing and his grip loosening. His forehead touches mine as he mutters almost painfully, “You need to go.”

“No,” I say automatically, my fingers dragging over his chest, down his stomach, and pausing at the waistband of his jeans.

Kyle lifts his head, and his troubled eyes bore into mine. His words are clipped and harsh. “You need to go, Jane.”

“No,” I say again. Okay, it comes out almost like a whine, and my fingers boldly skim downward to brush over his erection in a very desperate and perhaps pathetic move to keep him in the moment.

To not lose him.

Kyle hisses and his body jerks when I press my palm against him, and holy mother of God, it’s huge. I want to feel more, so I start to curl my hand around him, assured he won’t be able to resist.

I’m wrong though, probably about everything.

Kyle’s hands shoot upward, roughly grabbing my shoulders so he can push me away. It’s not a hard push, but in a nanosecond, he puts two feet of space between us and then drops me like a hot potato.

I stare at him, my chest heaving with hardened nipples. A silent plea on my mouth for him to touch me again.

He shakes his head, but his voice is surprisingly gentle when he says, “You need to go, Jane. This isn’t happening.”

“But I don’t understand,” I whisper.

Kyle scrubs a hand over his head and huffs out with frustration. “There’s nothing to understand. I’m not good for you and I just can’t go there, okay?”

“No, it’s not okay,” I argue, and even though my body is starting to cool, I feel more drawn to him than ever. I feel absolutely compelled to admit to him, “I like you.”

Kyle’s eyes gentle as he gives me a sad smile. “I like you too, Jane. But it can’t go past friendship. I really shouldn’t even take that, but…”

“But?” I prompt him.

“But nothing,” he says firmly. “I’m not going to be here long, so I’m not about to start anything with you. So it’s just friends, Jane, and frankly… I won’t make a very good friend so take that for what it’s worth.”

My eyes drop to the porch, and I try to make sense of the emotions warring within me. So much disappointment, and a huge pool of sadness, that Kyle feels the need to stay so closed off.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and my eyes snap back up to his.

And he is sorry. His gaze is filled with regret and pain, not for me, but for himself, and it crashes into me hard.

“Me too,” I murmur with a nod of my head. “I guess it’s just friends.”

“Just friends,” he agrees. He even attempts a smile that’s completely lackluster, causing my heart to squeeze like it’s been locked in a vice grip.

“Well, good night,” I say with a smile back at him.

“Good night, Jane,” he says and turns away from me. I watch him walk through his door and shut it behind him, the memory of his regretful gaze burned vividly into my brain.