Chapter 8
EIGHT
Sienna
I’ve changed my outfit three times. Maybe four.
First, it was a dress, then jeans, then leggings, and I’ve now landed on a soft navy sweater and my favorite dark-wash jeans. It feels casual enough to say, “This isn’t a fancy date,” but cute enough that I don’t feel like I’ve given up.
Which, let’s be honest, is the line I’m constantly toeing these days.
I smooth a hand down the front of my sweater and check the mirror one last time. My hair falls in loose waves, and I even put on a little eyeliner. Nothing too bold—enough that I still feel like me, but a version of me that Kye might want to kiss.
The thought makes my heart do that ridiculous little leap again.
I’m not even sure what tonight is supposed to be. He said dinner at his place, which feels kind of date-ish but also not. We already work together. We eat together all the time. But this feels different. Like he’s trying. Like he wants this to be something more.
God, I hope I’m not reading too much into this and setting myself up for heartbreak.
A knock on the door makes me jump, and I nearly trip over my feet as I hurry across the room to answer it.
Kye stands there, looking unfairly good in a fitted black henley and jeans that hug his thighs in a way that should be illegal. His hair is slightly damp, like he recently showered, and his blue eyes crinkle a little when he sees me.
“Hey,” he says softly, his low rumble hitting me somewhere deep.
“Hey,” I manage, returning his smile. “You clean up nice.”
He shrugs. “I try.”
I grab my jacket and bag and lock up behind me as we head down the steps toward his SUV. He opens my door like he did on our first date, making warmth bloom in my chest.
“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” I ask as he starts the engine.
He glances at me, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Thought I’d cook for you.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You cook?”
“I can follow a recipe.”
I laugh, already relaxing. “What’s on the menu?”
“You’ll see.”
That makes me nervous. But also a little giddy.
The drive to his place doesn’t take long, and I find myself watching his hand on the gearshift, close enough to my knee that it makes my skin buzz with awareness.
When we pull into his driveway, I notice the soft glow of light in the windows and the faint flicker of candles through the curtains.
Candles?
He opens my door again and offers me his hand. I take it, letting him help me out. His fingers are warm around mine, and for a second, neither of us lets go.
“This is sweet,” I say as we approach the porch.
“I wanted tonight to feel different.”
I glance up at him, my heart stuttering. “It already does.”
Inside, everything smells amazing, like garlic and something buttery and warm. The kitchen is a little messy—pans on the stove, a cutting board with herbs, a glass of red wine already poured—but it feels homey. Lived in. Comfortable.
“You weren’t kidding,” I say, peeking at the pan on the stove. “You really did cook.”
He lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I figured you deserved more than takeout.”
I smile as I watch him move around the kitchen, his movements easy and confident. He plates up two servings of what looks like pasta with roasted veggies and fresh bread before carrying them to the small table near the window.
It’s not candlelit, not overly romantic, but it’s still… perfect.
We eat, talk, laugh, and somewhere between my second bite and third glass of wine, I realize that I haven’t felt this at ease with someone in… maybe ever.
He listens when I talk. He watches me like I matter. And when he smiles at me, the rest of the world fades out.
After we clean up dinner—me washing, him drying—I glance out the window and notice how late it’s gotten.
“I should probably head home,” I say reluctantly, drying my hands on the towel.
“I’ll drive you,” he says quickly, like he was hoping I wouldn’t bring it up.
The ride is quiet, but not in a bad way. His hand brushes mine on the center console once, and even though neither of us says anything, the air between us shifts.
When we get to my apartment, he parks in the same spot as last time and gets out to walk me to the door.
“This was nice,” I say, stopping at the top of the steps.
He nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. It was.”
There’s that pause again. That space where something could happen. Where I could invite him in… or let him go.
Screw it.
“Do you want to come in for a bit?” I ask, suddenly shy. “I mean… we could talk more. Or not talk.”
His lips twitch. “I’d like that.”
I unlock the door and step inside, heart pounding, suddenly aware of how small my apartment is. He follows me in, ducking slightly under the low doorway.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask as I drop my keys in the bowl by the door.
He shakes his head. “No. I just want to kiss you.”
I freeze, then slowly turn to face him. “What?”
He takes a step closer and cups my cheek. “I’ve been thinking about it since our first date. Since the first moment I saw you if I’m being honest.”
“Oh,” I breathe, heart stuttering.
Then he leans in and kisses me.
It starts slow, tentative. His lips brush mine softly like he’s giving me the chance to pull away. I don’t. I lean into him, rising on my toes, and wrap my arms around his neck as the kiss deepens.
His hands settle on my waist, strong and sure, pulling me closer. The heat between us builds, and I melt against him, completely lost in how he tastes, feels, and kisses like he means it.
Like he’s been waiting for this. For me.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathless and a little dizzy.
He rests his forehead against mine, eyes still closed.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he murmurs.
“Me too,” I whisper.
I don’t know what happens next. If he stays. If this becomes something more tonight.
But I do know this?—
That kiss changed everything.
And I don’t want to go back.
“Do you want me to leave?” Kye asks softly.
I shake my head. “Stay,” I whisper as I rise on my toes and press my lips to his.
The moment our lips meet, everything else fades away.
It starts gently. Tentative. Like he’s asking for permission, waiting to see if I’ll pull away.
I don’t.
I lean into him, my hands sliding up his chest, clutching the front of his shirt like I’m afraid he’ll disappear if I let go. His mouth moves against mine—slow at first, savoring, like we have all the time in the world.
And maybe we do.
Kye’s hands find my hips, firm and steady as he pulls me closer. The kiss deepens, heat blooming low in my belly as his tongue brushes against mine, and I swear I feel it everywhere.
I gasp softly, and he groans in response, like that little sound undid something in him.
He walks me to the couch, never breaking the kiss, until the backs of my knees hit the cushions and I sink down. Kye follows, settling between my legs, bracing his weight on his arms so he’s hovering above me.
“You sure?” he murmurs, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth.
I nod, breathless. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”
That’s all it takes.
He kisses me again, harder this time, and I unravel. His hands are everywhere—sliding under my sweater, finding the bare skin at my waist, drawing slow, reverent circles that make me shiver. I tug at the hem of his shirt, and he pulls back enough to let me lift it over his head.
My breath catches.
He’s beautiful—broad chest, solid arms, and that little trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistband. The way he looks at me like I’m something precious, wild, and breakable all at once makes my heart ache in the best way.
I sit up and tug my sweater over my head, suddenly nervous but determined. His gaze drops, and his breath hitches.
“God, Sienna,” he says, voice rough. “You’re… perfect.”
I don’t feel perfect. I never have. But with the way he’s looking at me, I believe it. At least in this moment, with him.
His mouth finds my neck, my collarbone, and lower. Every brush of his lips sends another wave of heat through me, every touch unraveling me further. I arch into him, needing more, and he answers without hesitation—his hands mapping every inch of me like he’s memorizing me with his fingertips.
When he finally slides his hand beneath the waistband of my leggings, I gasp and clutch his shoulder. He finds me wet and aching, and he groans into my neck, his breath hot against my skin.
“You’re killing me,” he murmurs, kissing the hollow of my throat.
“Then do something about it,” I whisper.
He moves fast—gathering me in his arms, lifting me off the couch like I weigh nothing, and carrying me toward the bedroom.
My bedroom.
But he skids to a halt at the threshold.
I frown as I look up at him. “Is something wrong?” I ask, starting to feel self-conscious.
“Yeah. What the hell is that?”
I’m confused as I look around the room. “What’s what?”
“That,” he says, nodding toward my bed.
“Uh, my bed?”
“It’s a twin.”
“Yeah, well, it came with the apartment, and it was just me.”
“We’ll have to see if we can make this work,” he grumbles as he heads over to the bed.
The moment he lays me down, something shifts. Everything slows again and softens. He undresses me like he’s unwrapping something sacred, like he wants to savor each layer he peels away.
When I’m finally bare beneath him, he pauses. “Are you sure?” he asks again, voice low and reverent.
I nod, eyes locked on his. “Yeah. I want you, Kye.”
He exhales slowly, stripping off the rest of his clothes. And when he settles over me again, skin to skin, it’s overwhelming in the best way.
He kisses me, and I shiver as his bare, heated skin presses against mine for the first time.
“You feel so good,” he growls against my skin.
His lips trail down my neck, and he nips at my collarbone. Shivers skate down my spine as he kisses lower. He cups my breasts, and I gasp, arching into his hands. His smirk is so damn hot.
I lick my lips as his head lowers and his hot breath fans over my sensitive nipples. A second later, his tongue licks over a sensitive bud. I moan, clutching his head.
“So responsive,” he mutters as his mouth moves to my other breast.
“That feels so good,” I whimper.
Kye grins as he wraps his lips around my nipple and sucks. He licks and nips at my breasts until I’m a panting, needy mess. I’m so close to coming, balancing on the razor edge. All I need is a little more attention, a little more pressure between my legs, and…
“Kye!” I shout as he nips at the underside of my breast.
He scoots lower, moving down my body, leaving kisses and licks in his wake. Nudging my thighs wider apart, he settles between them. I shift onto my elbows to watch as he spreads my lower lips with his long fingers.
His thumb rubs my sensitive clit, and my legs snap shut around his head.
“Easy,” he says as he pries my thighs away and presses them into the mattress.
“It’s too much,” I gasp.
“It’s going to be good,” he assures me.
“Yes. Now come up here,” I plead, grabbing his arm and tugging him up.
“I’m not done here.”
“Kye,” I beg.
But he’s too distracted by my pussy to listen to me. He buries his head between my thighs, and I cry out as he eats me like I’m a five-course meal and he’s starving.
“Kye… Kye… Kye! ” I shout, coming so hard that I see stars.
He grips my thighs, pinning me to the bed as he licks up every last drop of my release. His tongue flicks over my clit, and I squirm underneath him.
“Please!” I cry out.
He chuckles as he kisses my clit one last time before prowling up my body. “Ready for me?”
I nod enthusiastically.
He kisses me as he pushes inside my tight channel. I can taste myself on his lips and tongue. His cock presses against my virginity, and we both tense. He stares down at me, and I can’t read the expression on his face.
“Oh, yeah… I probably should’ve mentioned that I’m a virgin,” I say, my face on fire.
“Yeah. Got that.”
I wonder if that’s going to be a problem. A second later, I have my answer.
“Mine,” he says as he thrusts forward, breaking through my virginity with a decisive punch of his hips.
I gasp, my nails digging into his arms as I hold onto him. He holds perfectly still, letting me adjust to his large size.
It takes a while.
“Sienna?” he asks hoarsely.
I swallow. “I’m okay.”
Kye nods and kisses me, distracting me from the rapidly fading pain. He moves slowly at first. He feels so damn good, and I soon forget all about the sting of pain as another orgasm brews inside me.
We move together slowly, like we’re figuring out the rhythm of something ancient and new at the same time. His hands never stop moving—stroking, holding, grounding me as his mouth finds mine.
“You feel so fucking good. Better than I ever imagined. Perfect. You’re perfect,” he rambles.
“Kye,” I pant as his dark eyes meet mine. “I’m so close.”
His eyes close like he’s in pain, and I know he’s also close. His thrusts become rougher as he starts to unravel.
I suck in a sharp breath as his cock hits a spot inside me, lighting up my nerve endings and sending me flying over the edge into pure bliss.
I fall apart, crying out as pleasure crashes over me in waves. Kye follows soon after, groaning low in my ear as he buries his face in my neck.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, limbs intertwined, breaths still evening out.
He strokes my hair and presses a kiss on my forehead. “I’ve never felt like this before,” he murmurs. “Not with anyone.”
I smile against his chest. “Me neither.”
We don’t say much after that. We don’t need to.
Because tonight wasn’t just about sex.
It was about him. About us.
About something real.
I’m finally starting to believe that this might not just be the beginning of a romance.
It might be the start of my forever.