Page 58 of Catching Kyle
Good. After years of watching him, I might just get him to myself.
His lips pull away from mine slowly, and for a second, I panic. Does he want me to let go? Did he really just want to give me my book and then go?
“Because you’re too much of a good guy to let go,” he says. And then he presses his lips against mine, and my worries drip off me like rain.
Chapter 23
Michael Cunningham
IdrinkinKylelike he’s water.
I press my lips against his, and he cups the back of my head, and he kisses back with a force that tells me he’s even hungrier for me than I’m thirsty for him.
After I set his things on a side table, I trail my hands up his belly to his wide, perfectly broad chest, and I fondle him through his shirt like I’ve fantasized doing for so many years. He recognizes what I’m doing and stops kissing me.
“Sorry,” I say, pulling my hands away. “I—”
He presses a huge finger against my lip. “Shhh,” he says. “No apologies.”
Shivers run down my spine, and I’m tempted to suck his finger like I mean it. He steps back and starts to shimmy off his suit coat. And he’s struggling.
“Your shoulders are just too wide,” I say.
He smirks up at me as he gets one arm off. “Just means I look better in a suit,” he says. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I would,” I say, blushing.
He throws the suit coat on the floor next to his discarded tie, and then he starts with his top button. Oh my god. I’m about to see Kyle Weaver shirtless. And this time it’s on purpose.
“Wanna help?” he asks.
I step forward and start on his bottom button. My knuckles graze the hardness in his pants, and I almost lose my breath. He’sbig.
He manages to get to the next button, but I’m still struggling with my first.
“Sorry,” I say. “Hands are wet and—”
He grabs my hand. “What did I say?”
My mouth goes dry. “No apologies.”
“Right,” he says. He looks down at his shirt and shrugs. “I don’t need this shirt anyways.”
He grabs an opening with his pointer and middle fingers and then rips his shirt open. Fabric tears, and buttons fly everywhere, leaving his hairy, perfectly sculpted dadbod out for me to see.
I must be gawking because Kyle’s giving me that smug look, the same one he gave the first time I saw him shirtless.
“Oh, come here,” I say as I pull him toward me.
My hands run along his bare torso as we kiss, feeling every hair, every muscle, every crevice. I cup his huge pecs, his nipples like warm chocolate chips in my palms. I love exploring his body like this. It feels like I’m a kid at a sandbox enjoying the way the texture of the sand flows through my fingertips. I don’t want this to end.
He pulls away and gestures with his head to the stairs.
My eyes widen. “Really?” I ask.Am I about to have sex with Kyle Weaver?
“Yes, really,” he says, almost saying it like Amani does when she’s dead serious.
“I’m STD-free,” I say. “No HIV either. You must be wondering since, well, you know.”
