Page 70 of Kylo
I swear I blacked out from the intensity of it.
And this time, as I moaned, Kylo groaned as he surged deep, his body tensing as he came with me.
I couldn’t say how long we stayed just like that—my arms and legs wrapped around him, his body pressing mine against the wall, our breaths and heartbeats coming too fast.
But by the time Kylo eased back and I let my legs lower, my thighs ached and pins and needles assaulted every nerve ending the second my feet hit the cement.
“Charlie horse?” Kylo asked, holding my arms.
“Pins and needles,” I admitted.
The bemused smile he shot me chased away any of those awkward post-sex, ‘we’re still naked here’ feelings that might have popped up.
“Okay. I got it,” I said, sucking in a deep breath when I felt like I could move again.
“Okay. I’ll be right back,” he said, giving my arms a quick squeeze before walking back into the suite.
Did I watch his ass as he went?
I was only human.
But as soon as he was out of sight, I made a mad dash over to my towel as I tried to cover up all my bits and bobs. Because with the desire sated for the moment, I was acutely aware of just how exposed I was. How exposedwe’dbeen.
Panic threatened, making my belly twist.
As I pulled on the towel, though, I reminded myself that we were up really high and that the nearest other tall buildings were likely too far away for anyone to see anything anyway.
Even if they did, well, they wouldn’t know who I was.
I found my wet bathing suit pieces and Kylo’s boxer briefs and set them out in the sun to dry before making my way inside the suite.
Kylo came out of the bathroom with his own towel slung dangerously low on his hips.
I’d lost track of how many times I’d orgasmed, but it was plenty. There was no rational reason I felt my damn sex clench at the sight of him.
“So,” he said, head tipping to the side, “food?”
“Oh, God, yes. Food.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Kylo
That was wrong.
On every fucking level, it was unforgivable.
Especially knowing where I was going to be taking her after her bucket list day was over. Knowing that she would never have done that with me if she had all the information she was about to.
But she’d been there, been sweet, been receptive. And once we touched, yeah, there was no going back.
I didn’t regret it because I didn’t want it.
Fuck, did I want it.
I wanted more, in fact.
But she was going to feel so fucking betrayed. Rightfully so.
