Kanyan (Gatti Enforcers #1)

19. Lula

19

LULA

W e don’t make it to a bed.

I’m pressed up against the wall, one long leg wrapped around Kanyan’s waist as he thrusts into me with punishing brutality. His arms are braced on either side of me, caging me in, his raw power radiating through every inch of his body. He drives into me deeply, each movement tearing me apart and putting me back together all at once. His hips slam into mine, relentless, his focus razor-sharp, his jaw clenched like he’s fighting a battle he refuses to lose.

My stomach tightens with every thrust, the pressure building inside me until I can hardly breathe. I claw at his back, his shirt long discarded somewhere on the floor, my nails digging into the hard muscle of his back, as if anchoring myself to him will stop the storm raging in my chest.

"Kanyan," I gasp, my voice breaking, but it only spurs him on.

His lips crash against mine, bruising and claiming, his breath hot as it mingles with mine. There’s no tenderness in the way he devours me, no softness, but that’s not what I want. I want this fire, this fury, this chaos that only he can bring. I want his anger, I want his obsession, I want all of him.

"Say it," he growls, his voice dark and commanding, vibrating through me as he buries himself deeper, pulling me closer, tighter against him. "Say you’re mine."

I can’t think, let alone speak. My body burns with a need so raw it’s almost unbearable, every nerve alight as he drives me closer to the edge. Fire coils in my stomach, tightening like a wire about to snap. I feel like I’m going to fall off the edge off a cliff as the fire builds and builds and builds until my toes are curling and my breath gets stuck in my throat.

"Kanyan—"

"Say it," he demands again, his teeth grazing my jaw, his hand sliding down to grip my hip, holding me in place as he moves harder, faster, sending waves of heat crashing through me.

"I’m yours," I cry out, the words spilling from me before I can stop them, as if they’ve been waiting to escape all along.

Something shifts in his eyes, dark and feral, and his hand slips down to cup the back of my thigh, lifting me higher as he pounds into me, pushing me closer and closer to that breaking point.

I feel the tension coil low in my belly, tighter and tighter, until it finally snaps. I shatter against him, a cry tearing from my throat as my release ripples through me, leaving me breathless and trembling in his arms.

But Kanyan isn’t done. He holds me up, his movements unrelenting, chasing his own release like a man possessed. His forehead presses against mine, his breath ragged and uneven, and I feel the moment he loses control.

With a low, guttural groan, he stills, his body shuddering as he finds his release, his grip on me tightening as if he’s afraid to let go.

For a moment, we stay like that, tangled together, breathing hard, the world outside fading into nothing.

But reality creeps in, as it always does, the weight of what we’ve just done settling between us. Kanyan pulls back slightly, his dark eyes locking on mine, searching for something—maybe regret, maybe fear.

Instead, he finds neither.

"Don’t leave," he murmurs, his voice raw, almost pleading.

I reach up, my hand brushing against his jaw, and for the first time, I see a crack in his armor. For the first time, I see the man beneath the mask.

And his vulnerability terrifies me.

I shove more clothes into my bag, the soft thud of fabric against leather barely audible over the tension humming between us. Kanyan sprawls in the chair like he owns the room, his dark eyes locked on me, tracking my every move. I can feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and unrelenting, searing a path over my skin. Heat creeps up my neck, spreading across my face, and I curse my inability to keep my emotions hidden.

"Why are we moving?" I ask, breaking the silence. My voice sounds steadier than I feel.

Rosemarie offered to help me pack, but I turned her down. There isn’t much to gather—a few clothes, a pair of worn ballet slippers, and the tiny box of memories I carry everywhere. It’s all I have, and it fits neatly into a single bag.

Kanyan doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he tilts his head, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable. Finally, he shifts, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair and tapping his fingers against his jaw.

"I think whoever shot me tracked me through my car," he says, his voice low and calm, like we’re discussing the weather. "If that’s the case, this location is compromised. We need to secure it."

I stop folding for a moment, turning to face him. "It’s safer where we’re going?"

"Of course," he replies, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You’re full of questions today, aren’t you, little dancer?"

The nickname sends a shiver down my spine, but I ignore it. There’s something else nagging at me, something I can’t let go. "Do you know who shot you?"

He hesitates. It’s subtle, just a flicker of his eyes and a slight pause in his breathing, but I catch it. He’s holding something back.

"We think it may have been the Albanians," he finally says.

My hands freeze mid-motion, a half-folded shirt clutched in my fingers. My heart stumbles, then starts pounding against my ribcage. Albanians. The word echoes in my head, sharp and cutting.

"What do you mean?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Kanyan leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his gaze sharpening. "The Albanian mafia," he says, as if that explains everything. "They’ve been a thorn in our side for months."

Relief and dread war inside me, battling for dominance. On the one hand, this has nothing to do with Derin. On the other, the Albanian mafia isn’t exactly a minor threat. My mind spins with the implications. But why would the Albanian mafia be after Kanyan? So many things are not adding up.

"So this isn’t personal," I say, more to myself than to him.

"It’s always personal," Kanyan says, his tone hard, final.

I glance at him, and his expression stops me cold. His eyes burn with something fierce and dangerous, and I can see that he doesn’t have a forgiving nature.

I swallow hard and turn back to my bag, stuffing the shirt inside with more force than necessary. The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy, until I can’t take it anymore.

"Do you think it’s safe to go outside?" I ask, zipping the bag closed and slinging it over my shoulder.

He stands, his height and presence swallowing the room. "As long as you’re with me, it’s safe," he says, his voice a low growl.

I don’t know if I believe a man that managed to get himself shot not too long ago, but the conviction in his tone makes my pulse race.

He steps closer, his towering frame blocking out the rest of the room. His hand brushes mine as he takes the bag from my shoulder, and the simple touch sends a jolt through me. I glance up at him, and the intensity in his eyes nearly steals my breath.

"Don’t be afraid when you’re with me, Lula,” he says, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

I nod, though I’m not sure if I’m convincing him or myself.

Without another word, he turns and heads for the door, leaving me to follow.

But as I trail behind him, I can’t shake the feeling that this is just the beginning—that everything I’ve been running from is about to catch up with me, and the only thing standing between me and that chaos is Kanyan.