Chapter 25
Weslyn
I ramble when I'm nervous. But also when I'm excited about something and have a lot to say. Sitting next to Kyran on his couch, watching my favorite show while drinking beers definitely did both of those things.
I half expected him to laugh at me, maybe ignore me or just be the agreeable kind who listens and nods as I stood and basically recited a whole speech as to why Matt Donovan is the most hated character of TVD and why I think he doesn't deserve all that hate. But I never expected this.
I never expected him to kiss me and I absolutely don't expect that kiss to sear to my damn soul.
My lips still feel the tingles of where he pressed his to mine.
And as I look up at the man responsible for the desire that courses through my veins and causes my heart to pound like a drum, I see the way his body tenses as he waits for me to say something.
I see in his eyes that he's nervous that I didn't like it or didn't want it. But I wanted it.
And here I am, trying my best not to recluse by pulling out every trick in the book in order to do anything other than say the wrong things or do something that might incriminate me, expose the way I feel around him and how he's all I've been able to think about.
We've spent so much time together without actually being present in each other's day to day and the way I had started to feel seemed like it was forbidden in a way.
But that kiss. There's no way I'll be able to pretend like I didn't want that. I won't be able to stop myself from feeding into the frenzy this man has me in.
"I've been waiting for that," I admit to him after a few moments of trying to figure out what to say.
"You have?" he asks, his brows perking up slightly as he watches me run my index fingers across my bottom lip; missing the way his lips heated mine.
"Yeah, I…" I let my words fade. Because in this moment, I am speechless.
Kyran steps up to me, letting our bare toes touch as he reaches his hand to caress my face.
His fingers touch the back of my neck, tangling with the strands of my hair and his thumb replaces my finger where I touch my lips.
I let him take control, pulling himself down a bit to close the space between us.
Meanwhile, I reach for his waist and steady myself against him, digging my fingers into his skin because the anticipation is killing me.
"Can I kiss you again, Wes?" God, that fucking nickname is killing me. It's like I already can't get enough of the way this man is making me feel and when he calls me by that nickname, everything is heightened.
"Please," I whisper against his thumb and he doesn't waste a moment more to bring us together.
I'm on my toes, reaching up, as we kiss. This time, when he grabs me by my hips with his other hand, he presses me tight against him as he opens his mouth against mine. I part my lips and allow his tongue the access it's pleading for.
It's not hard to get lost in him. The heat of our bodies dancing together as our mouths show the desperation we both seem to have for this moment.
I let my fingers grip at the hem of his T-shirt but have to stop myself from touching his bare skin.
I'm about to crumble and I can feel tension between my legs; the need for friction.
But it isn't until I feel how hard he is, his dick pressing against my center as we put everything we have into this kiss, when I start to feel like I might actually faint from how dizzy this man is making me.
I pull away, causing him to sharply inhale a breath and I have to put my hand against his chest to keep a distance.
"Are you okay?" he asks frantically, looking over my face to make sure I'm not hurt or offended in any way.
"Yeah, no I'm fine, Kyran. I just think that was overwhelming me," I confess, and I see the way he instantly changes his demeanor, like I offended him.
"Oh my gosh, no. Not in a bad way. I just mean…" I move my hand off his chest but instead grab for his arm as he attempts to take a step back.
"Hey," I whisper, urging him to look at me.
When he does, I pull him back into me and look him in the eyes.
"I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that I've not been that heated with someone in a very long time.
It was starting to push other feelings out of me and causing my body to react in a way I'm not used to and I just didn't want it to move too fast." I try to be open with him about why I had to pull away while trying my best to explain to him that I was getting seriously fucking wet without say it like that.
But my heart is racing, my head is spinning and my clit is throbbing harder than I've ever felt before.
He looks down at me, his eyes holding a very sincere gaze. He reaches back out to my face where I let his fingers brush my hair over my ears—something that gives me a million little jolts of lightning to the heart—and he grins that all-too-sexy grin at me.
"I feel the same way," he says and that alone causes me to want to say fuck it and just pull him back in. Afterall, I miss the heat he gave me as he pressed my body to his; the feeling of how hard he was. But I don't want this to happen too fast, I mean that.
"I'm not saying I don't want that with you, that I don't want to pursue the sexual attraction between us.
Because I am very attracted to you and until now, I guess I wasn't sure how you felt.
But now that I know, I'm just saying, I think we should go slow.
" I don't see any hint of disappointment on his face, and of course I know he is because, well .
. . he's a man. But he's too kind and genuine to show that emotion and I appreciate him for it because it doesn't cause my mind to go into overdrive and focus on it too much.
Instead, he just leans in and presses a small peck to my cheek before saying, "I can go slow, Weslyn." And I smile at him, thankful that he'll allow us to pace this.
But I would be lying if I didn't say I am on the verge of not giving a damn about pacing and timing and just…
I take a deep breath.
"I think I should head to bed," I state, and he doesn't protest as he steps out of the way for me.
He smiles as I walk past him, and for a second I think I'll regret it. Maybe I do. But I force myself not to turn around as I head into the spare bedroom with my things, hating the fact that I decided to do what most would call the right thing.