CHAPTER 10
Samia
“Sweep the breath out of me, why don’t you?”
Finally, finding my tongue after a long minute of gaping at the man on his knees in front of me, it’s the first thing I think of to say.
It’s not out of the realm that I might live with a boyfriend, but I can honestly say it’s the last thing I expected to hear.
“Why don’t I know this already? You could have told me ages ago.”
“You haven’t been up to hearing shocking news, sweetheart.” Kian flashes me the half grin that always makes my head squirrely with impure thoughts. He’s so freaking handsome that I can barely stand to look at him sometimes.
And apparently, I live with that handsome guy who derails every thought I have. He rubs both hands up and down my thighs as if soothing me, like he has to prepare me for more bad news.
I understand. I had a terrible few weeks where the headaches were so bad that I wanted to yank my brain out of my skull for some relief. No matter how much Kian is around, he’s always cautious with me, waiting for me to go off. So, I grasp why he’s only telling me this now.
“Are there more secrets you’re hiding from me, MacNamara? Do we have a surprise baby hiding in the closet? Is there a secret lover I keep stashed in Brooklyn?”
Whoosh. Before I know it, he’s pushed me back across the bed and looms over me menacingly, bracing his arms up by my head, with his pupils expanding. That might have been the sexiest move I’ve ever witnessed. My pussy has an excited heartbeat thumping between my legs.
“If I’ve given you the impression I’m okay with you talking about other guys, even jokingly, let me set you straight where I stand, sweetheart. I’m not. So if you don’t want your first spanking right here in your old bedroom, you better tell your man you’re sorry.”
Every word Kian utters in his rusty tones puts flickering flames between my legs. Everywhere aches suddenly. Aches in a good way, especially my boobs. They also want his rough words and attention from his hands and mouth.
Oh, God.
I want Kian, I realize. It cannonballs through my mind like a bolt of lightning.
I want to fuck my boyfriend.
In any other circumstances, that wouldn’t be funny because a woman usually wants to jump her man’s bones. Still, our situation has been far from normal, so the realization that I truly am sexually attracted to the overbearing man, who’s haunted me like a shadow, bursts a fit of giggles out of me.
When they eventually stop, Kian is watching me from that same position. His eyelids are hooded now, and his gorgeous, kissable mouth is inviting as my gaze drops to it.
“Spanking?” I push out of my constricted throat. “We haven’t done that before?” my head is crammed to the brim with sexy scenarios of how and where he’d spank me and of all the things we might have kinky played together. And for the first time, I truly hate how memory loss has stolen parts of my time with Kian.
“I could hardly put you over my knee while you were recovering, dreamgirl. Now, I’m waiting. What do you have to say to me?”
His words are a delicious threat, one that my sexual organs respond to.
Amused, I aim a faint smile his way. “I’m sorry I mentioned a phantom lover from Brooklyn.” I wait for a beat. “Maybe he’s from Jersey…”
“Samia…” he growls, rubbing his nose alongside mine. “What am I gonna do with you, hm? You’re driving me fucking crazy. Got all these men sniffing around my woman when my back is turned.”
The coffee shop guy.
He’s delusional. No guys sniff around me, but it boosts my confidence that Kian can be pushed to the edge with so little provocation.
“I don’t think Brent liked you much.”
Kian snorts and pushes up to stand to his lofty height, still staring down at me until I roll to a seated position again. Tongue in cheek, I love seeing the flash of jealousy cross his features and darkening his blue eyes.
“I get to fuck you, and he wants to fuck you, baby. So, I wouldn’t expect him to like me.”
They’re just words, but they affect me like I’ve been hit with a lump of wood, knocking me off kilter. He gets to fuck me. Oh, yes, please.
“No more guys, Samia, understand?”
I sigh dramatically and bat my lashes at him. “If you insist, I’ll send a memo to my harem.”
He growls and hauls me to my feet, plastering me along the full length of his solid body, his palm drops to my butt, and he squeezes me there until I whimper with a mixture of pain and exquisite pleasure, I’m sure I’ve never felt before.
“I’m not the good guy in this picture, baby. I won’t react like a good guy if my buttons are pressed. Don’t force me to destroy some mythical man for trying to take what belongs to me.”
The way my head whirls has nothing to do with my brain injury and everything to do with the forceful, evocative man saying his truth. Why I believe he’d do something cruel, I’m not sure. But I trust it wholeheartedly.
And I enjoy knowing it.
My throat is parched with longing when I look up at him and say, “I’ve never once thought of you as a good guy, Kian. You’ve always been the reckless, wild one, the troublemaker.”
“Your troublemaker.”
Mine.
God, I love that.
The tides have turned, and I’m starting to believe everything he’s told me. I’ve always felt drawn to Kian. Some inexplicable chain has forever yanked my attention his way whenever our paths crossed.
I cannot deny that it has grown significantly.
There’s no hesitation as I watch him drop his head when I slip my arms around his waist. I feel how he exhales and immediately lassos his arms around me, holding me tightly.
“If I’ve somehow, with the will and ingenuity of Lucifer, roped in Manhattan’s baddest bad boy and made him mine, you can be sure no other man will interest me, Kian.” I share honestly, cuddling my cheek against his warm chest, his heartbeat tapping rapidly underneath his shirt. “You’re unique, and no imaginary Brooklyn lover is in your league.”
My vulnerability slips through my self-preservation defenses, and I wish those words back for a second because he could laugh and make me feel silly. But it’s not what Kian does. It’s like a tremor moving through him and into my skin as his arms clasp firmly around me.
“You’re mine, Samia.”
“I know,” I confirm. Believing it now, I feel like his girl, too. He’s done nothing but show me all this time. A spike of longing jets down my spine as Kian’s hand coasts up and down.
Isn’t that what I’ve always wanted? To belong to someone in every way. To have the intense, unbreakable relationship my parents have.
“Whatever I have to do, you’re mine.” He says, his lips pressed to my hair, which sounds ominous enough. My heart rate picks up, rattling beat after beat into his torso. But Kian is an uncomplicated, intense guy; he has no filter. And I already know his bad-boy qualities quite well.
He hasn’t lied to me, and why would he have to if we’re as close as he’s been telling me we are?
I nuzzle his shirt, inhaling the lovely masculine notes of the cologne he uses. I feel lighter, as if my splotchy memories no longer matter. Not when we have nothing but time in front of us to rebuild our relationship.
“How about you take me to our apartment?” I suggest, and a possessive spark appears in Kian’s eyes as he smiles slowly.
“Whatever you want, dreamgirl. Let’s go home.”