Kanyan (Gatti Enforcers #1)

16. Kanyan

16

KANYAN

T he second I walked into the house, I felt her relief like a weight lifted off my chest. It was there in the way Lula’s shoulders dropped and the tension bled out of her face. She looked at me like I was the only thing holding her world together. That look… hell, I don’t deserve it, but I’ll take it.

I’ve seen desperation before. I’ve been the cause of it, even. But that… that was different. It wasn’t the panic I’d seen in the eyes of men cornered by the barrel of my gun. It was something raw, something that made me want to be better—for her.

I nod at her, nothing more, before retreating to my room. My movements are slow, deliberate, each step dragging me further into the space I’ve claimed as my own. My ribs ache like hell, the bruises a painful reminder of the chaos of being shot, but I’ve lived through worse. I change into a pair of old sweatpants and a loose shirt, letting the fabric hang over my battered frame, and head for the living room.

The house is quiet. Dark. The faint scent of her perfume lingers in the air, soft and sweet, a contrast to the sharp bite of the whiskey I pour myself. The glass is cool against my fingers as I sink into the sofa, staring at the swirling amber liquid. My mind’s not here, though. It’s stuck on the shooting, replaying the scene over and over like a goddamn broken record.

Random, my ass. There’s no way someone just happened to be there, gunning for me, at that exact moment. No one knew I’d be there. Hell, I barely knew until I decided to take that route on a whim. So how did they know? The thought scrapes at the edges of my mind, logic clawing for an answer. My thumb hovers over my phone screen before I send a quick text to Mason. I need answers, and to get them, I need to meet with him first thing in the morning.

I’m staring at the screen when I hear it—the soft patter of bare feet against the hardwood floor. I look up, and Lula is standing there. She’s wrapped in an oversized hoodie that falls to her knees, her hair a disheveled mess.

“Why are you still awake?” My voice comes out rough, low, a mix of exhaustion and barely veiled anger. Her eyes find mine, soft but questioning, like she knows I’ve been drowning in my thoughts and she’s debating whether to throw me a lifeline.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she says, folding herself onto the sofa beside me. One leg tucks under her as she angles toward me, her face lit with quiet concern. “You need rest, Kanyan.”

Rest. Yeah, that’s what I need, but it’s not going to happen. My head’s too full, my chest too tight. And now she’s here, sitting too damn close, looking at me like I’m someone worth worrying about.

“Go to sleep, Lula.” It’s not a request. My tone is sharp, a warning meant to keep her away. I’m not in the right frame of mind for this. For her. I’m frayed at the edges, barely holding myself together, and she doesn’t need to see me unraveling right now.

But she doesn’t move. Her eyes stay on me, steady, unyielding, and it’s like she’s stripping me bare without saying a damn word. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, and in it, there’s a pull between us, a thread drawing her closer even though I’m screaming at myself to push her away.

Then her hand moves, resting on my thigh. Her touch is light, hesitant, but it ignites something in me all the same. My muscles tense under her palm, and I meet her gaze. There’s a question in her eyes, one I’m too afraid to answer, because if I do, there’s no going back.

Have I read the signs wrong?

She bites her lip, a soft, nervous motion, and I know—I know —she feels it too. The weight of the unspoken. The inevitability of what happens next if I don’t stop it. But I can’t. Not when she’s looking at me like that, her fingers curling ever so slightly against my leg.

She leans in, just a little, enough for her scent to wrap around me, and I’m done. This is the moment. The line we’re about to cross. And if she doesn’t walk away now, I know one thing for certain.

There’ll be no walking away for her ever again.

“You have no idea what you’re doing.”

My voice is rough when I speak, the words rasping out like sandpaper. She’s so close I can feel her breath on my skin, soft and unsteady. Her eyes search mine, looking for something—reassurance, maybe, or courage.

But if my words are meant to stop her, they fail. She leans in, closing the space between us until her lips press against mine. The kiss is tentative at first, her touch featherlight, but I feel the shift the moment her hand rests on my thigh. She’s trembling, but she doesn’t pull away. Her fingers dig in slightly, her lips pressing harder, her bravery growing with every heartbeat.

I can’t help it. My resolve snaps. My hand tangles in her hair, pulling her closer as I respond, deepening the kiss. There’s no going back now, not with the way she fits against me, like she was made for this moment.

She shifts, moving onto my lap in one smooth motion, her legs straddling me. Her small hands splay against my chest, careful of my injury but firm enough to ground me in the moment. Her kiss becomes bolder, her tongue brushing against mine, and for a moment, I forget the pain, the chaos, everything but her.

Her lips leave mine, swollen and pink, and she pulls back just enough to catch her breath. She bites her bottom lip, a nervous habit that makes my chest tighten. Her pupils are wide, excitement a fuzzy, tangible thing between us. It’s intoxicating.

The hoodie she’s wearing hangs loosely on her frame, and before I can stop this madness, she grabs the hem and pulls it over her head. My breath catches in my throat as she sits there, vulnerable and beautiful, in nothing but a pair of black lace panties. My gaze sweeps over her, taking in the soft curves and the strength in her posture. She’s nervous but determined, and it’s that determination that pulls me under.

I lean forward, pressing a kiss to the curve of her shoulder before moving lower. My lips find her collarbone, then her chest, my hands steadying her as she lets me explore. Her skin is warm under my touch, and she exhales a shaky breath when my lips brush against her.

I slide my hands to her waist, holding her steady as she shifts against me. Her movements are tentative but eager, testing the waters, and I let her take the lead.

I can’t ignore the raging hard on that’s threatening to split my pants, even as she presses her chest into mine. She grinds against me, soft, gentle, breathing against my lips as she pulls away. I can’t help but reach out, catching one breast in my mouth, my tongue swirling around the fleshy pink tit begging to be touched. I do the same with the other breast, savoring her as she grinds into my lap.

I slide a hand down to her panties, pushing them aside, trailing a finger up against her folds. Her wet folds. She’s soaking. She pushes against my finger, pushing harder into me, until my finger makes its home inside her pussy. I push it in and out, without much effort, savoring the coat of her juices against my skin. There will come a time, I know, when those juices will be coating my face, filling my mouth with their sweet nectar, but for now, I can’t wait to park myself inside her.

With a flourish, I lift her in my arms and spread her over the sofa, pushing her feet apart. I lose my sweatpants with a growl, step out of them and step forward until my dick nudges at her opening. She’s so wet and I’m so far gone.

I don’t even stop to consider protection; it’s there in the back of my mind, but I just hope she’s on some form of birth control as I push into her, because I’m too far gone to stop. I know this will probably come back to bite me in the ass, but I can’t stop myself. And neither can she, by the looks of it, as her hands weave around my back and urge me into her. She wraps her legs around my thighs as I rock into her, her soft moans filling the room. She’s a tight fit, so tight I think it must have been a while since she’s last done this. I push into her, further and further, until I’m all the way in and her juices are coating my dick.

We rock back and forth, and I thrust in and out, as deep as I can possibly go as she urges me further, until I throw my head back with a massive roar and spill my load inside her.