Beneath the Surface (23 page)

“I’m okay . . . a bit blurry but okay.”

“I guess the major plus is that seeing you hit the floor sobered me up pretty damn quick.”

“You were drunk?” he asked, his voice breaking halfway through.

Dale hummed in response, not wanting to explain what a mess she’d been in. “Like you, my head is fuzzy, but I’ll be fine.”

When Dale tried to pull away, Kyran dragged her back. “Stay, baby. I need . . .” His voice was a whisper. “I just
need
.”

She understood what he was trying to say. She needed the comfort of his presence, too. Dale’s resolve to stay away from him had crumbled as he’d fallen to the floor in the ring. Every cell in Dale’s body had screamed out and pleaded that Kyran be okay. Now she felt exhausted—tired of fighting with him, tired of fighting her feelings. For this moment, she would accept that she loved him and wanted to comfort him.

“You weren’t your best out there. I saw it as soon as you came out.

You must have known. I know you. Your head wasn’t in the fight. Why did you do it?”

He let his head flop back, grunting as he did. “You. You’re in here.”

He tapped his temple.

“You’ve told me this already, Ky. You make it sound like you’re the only one to be consumed by this relationship. You’re in my head, too. I’ve confessed how I feel; I couldn’t be any more honest with you.”

“I didn’t run, did I?”

Sitting back, she glared at him. “And that makes you a fucking saint?”

Kyran gritted his teeth as he rolled his shoulders. He pulled Dale back to him and cupped her face firmly even though she tried to evade his grasp.

Dale allowed his touch reluctantly. She didn’t want to let on what his touches did to her; this relationship had no future, but they continued to prolong the agony.

“Not a saint, baby. Not one at all.” He stroked his thumb along her jaw. “I can’t tell you to leave. I’m a selfish bastard, Dale. I want you so fucking bad. I’ve been a cripple for the last week, and that’s why I demanded the fight. I wanted to feel something other than . . .”

“What?” she asked, amazed at his confession.

“Something other than hurt. It hurts when you’re not around.”

Dale’s knees were turning to Jell-O from his words, but she had to keep her resolve. “It hurts me when you get punched. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t charmed by you right now. But I can’t go back. I can’t stay with you now. The rules have changed.”

“Along with the label,” Kyran said, his voice gruff.

“Yeah, that, too. I don’t want to go over this now. You’re in no state to think clearly—neither of us is.”

She felt awful. Dale wanted to curl up in bed and sleep the growing headache off. She also wanted to make sure Kyran didn’t need medical attention.

“Come home with me.”

Dale had waited all week for Kyran to say that, but now the words squeezed her heart.

“We shouldn’t.” Her response was pathetic.

“I didn’t ask you if we should.” He nuzzled her jaw with the tip of his nose. “You normally look after me, baby.”

“Stop calling me that. When you do that, I get mixed messages.”

“Then I suppose asking you to the benefit again is another mixed message?” Kyran kissed her jaw, moving along to her chin.

Dale pressed her palm flat against his bare chest with the intention of pushing him away. It didn’t happen, though. She allowed Kyran to touch, kiss, and seduce her until she answered, “Yes. Yes, I’ll go with you.”

She hated herself for the lack of willpower, hated herself for not having the strength to walk away again, and she hated him more for not allowing her to go.

Kyran fidgeted while adjusting his bow tie once again. He wore a suit almost every day, and never understood why tuxedos felt so constricting.

The collar and tie were like a noose, strangling him slowly. He hooked his finger between the stiff collar and his neck, and pulled for extra room to breathe.

Kyran’s nerves were causing him to act like child at his first piano recital, but then he was still amazed Dale had agreed to accompany him to the benefit. For the first time in years he was looking forward to the function. He never looked forward to it. Each year Kyran had faced it with a sense of dread, wanting it to be over quickly, but not tonight.

Standing outside her front door, he wondered what she had chosen to wear. It had been two days since the fight at Metro, and they had argued about her dress on numerous occasions. Kyran had offered to pay for it, wanting her to have whatever she wanted, regardless of cost. Dale had refused, and because he didn’t have the strength to keep their arguing up, Kyran had caved. Her stubbornness drove him crazy. He knew he had met his match when Dale Porter had walked into his office.

Kyran pushed those thoughts aside as he knocked on her door. He snorted as a series of obscenities could be heard through the wood. He called out to her when he heard a crash. “Dale? Is everything okay?”

The door flew open, revealing a harassed-looking Dale. She held a flatiron in one hand and a brush in the other. “Oh God,” she groaned and kicked the door wide with her foot.

“Good evening to you, too.” Kyran closed the door behind him and walked into her apartment. He stopped, gawking at the mess that surrounded him. “Dale? Did someone break into your apartment?”

Dale rolled her green eyes as she dragged a brush through her half-straightened hair. “How amusing.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny.” He gestured around the apartment. “It looks like someone rummaged through all your things.”

“I’m stressed. You’re early. And I don’t have time to run around and clean up.”

Amused by her frazzled state, Kyran began picking up glasses and placing them in the kitchen sink. “I’m not early.”

“You are,” she said, smoothing the flatiron along the length of her hair. He watched as the curly strands became poker straight. Dale ran a comb through the section as he shook his head.

“You are! It’s—”

“Seven thirty.” Kyran tapped his watch.

“Oh damn! Really? Christ, I’m sorry. I’ve tried on seven different outfits and done my hair and makeup just as many times to match. I lost track of time.”

“I see.”

Dale paused. She thinned her eyes as she looked at him. “You’re always doing that.”

“Huh?”

“Whenever anyone says anything to you, you answer with ‘I see’ or ‘So it appears.’ It’s very condescending, you know that?”

“So it would seem.” He waited for her wrath, knowing his response would ignite her rage. Dealing with that would be far more tolerable than |

dealing with his nerves. He knew how to act when she was pissed, whereas he couldn’t say the same about his anxiety.

Dale pointed her flatiron at him. “You think you’re so amusing. Well, Mr. Funny Man, I know your game, and I’m not biting.”

Kyran took one long stride and grasped the collar of her unfastened robe in both hands. Her flatiron clattered to the floor, the air leaving her lungs in an audible whoosh. He lowered his head, his eyes boring into hers.

“Oh, but Dale, I wish you would bite. I recall just how satisfying it is when you do.”

His dick started to harden at their closeness. It had been too long since they’d been together, and reluctantly he admitted that he missed her. Not the sex. He missed
her.

He’d buried himself in his work, spending day and night in the office.

He’d hated being in his apartment; all he could smell was her intoxicating vanilla scent. Even washing the sheets hadn’t helped.

The nights had been the worse. Alone in his office, Kyran had been swamped with memories of what they had shared, even though it had been short-lived. Dale had made him happy. She had made him smile. Kyran didn’t have a damn clue how to deal with those feelings, so he kissed her.

He pressed his lips to hers and hoped it would be enough to forget.

Dale shoved at his chest in an attempt to drag herself away from him.

When he wouldn’t let go of her robe, she removed her arms from it, leaving him with a handful of lilac material. She placed her hands on her hips, her chest heaving against the tight tank top she wore. There was no repulsion in her expression, merely shock.

“You . . . you can’t do that, Kyran.” She touched her lips.

“I don’t understand why not.”

“Because we’re not doing this anymore. We’re friends.”

He grinned. “With benefits.”

“No,” Dale replied, shaking her head.

Kyran dropped her robe to the floor and snapped his arm out, locking his fingers around her wrist.

“Don’t—” Dale mumbled as he wrapped her in his arms. Her vanilla scent enveloped him. Kyran inhaled deeply, having missed her scent far more than he would ever admit. She was under his skin. No matter how hard he tried to rid himself of her hold, he couldn’t. He didn’t want to.

“Ky, please don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he asked into the crook of her neck. Stroking the tip of his nose along her throat, Kyran ignored her halfhearted protests. He peppered her shoulder with small kisses and bit at the thin strap of her tank, pulling it off her shoulder.

“Kyran,” Dale whispered, and he steadied himself for another of her challenges.

Relief hit him square in the chest as she pressed her mouth to his, kissing him hard. Kyran was rocked back on his heels from the force of her passion, and though he wouldn’t ask where it came from, he couldn’t help but wonder what caused the sudden change.

Dale hummed when he slid his tongue into her mouth, stroking it intimately against hers. She tasted divine, intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough.

Cupping her buttocks, Kyran lifted her. He moaned when her legs came around his hips. Kyran pressed her against the wall, never breaking contact. Dale no longer protested, in fact, she started fumbling with his bow tie. He chuckled and nipped at her lower lip before skimming his tongue across its fullness.

“As much as I want to do this right now, baby, we can’t.”

“Spoilsport.” Dale pouted and lowered her legs to the floor. She lifted her strap back onto her shoulder. “But I guess I should get changed.”

Kyran smirked and stroked his index finger along her collarbone. “Oh, I don’t know. I think you’re exquisite just as you are.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said and turned her back to him, walking into her bedroom. Kyran wanted to follow but needed a second to regroup. His emotions were always in flux around her, and with everything else in his life fucking up, he didn’t know how to move forward with her. Dale had turned their
sex only
relationship into something else, something deeper. He |

couldn’t berate her for those feelings, he just couldn’t reciprocate them.

Nevertheless, Dale had been the sole person he wanted close to him the night he’d lost his fight. She’d been a balm to his wounded ego.

Wandering around her small living space while he waited for her, Kyran stopped at her messy shelves. Books were crammed into every available space, the spines creased on most of them. He never knew Dale was such an avid reader. It made him wonder how little he knew about the woman he was sleeping with. Reading was something she obviously enjoyed, and he hadn’t known. Kyran began reading the titles and wondered what books she preferred. It didn’t take him long to understand there was no pattern to her choices. Dale had pretty much every genre available, and wanting to know more about her, he continued snooping.

Photo frames cluttered a small table beside the couch. None of them matched—each was a different size and shape. Drawing his face closer, he noticed each and every one of them contained her brother. Dale had referred to him on occasion, but their closeness was yet another aspect he’d been unaware of.

“Nosy.”

Kyran turned and felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Dale was standing in the doorway dressed for the benefit. The midnight blue sheath dress clung to each and every delicious curve. The neckline plunged, revealing cleavage he wanted to bury his face in, and the hem was so short it was almost indecent.

“I cannot explain how much strength it is taking for me not to drag you back into that bedroom. You look utterly amazing.”

Dale’s smile lit her entire face. She did a small twirl for him and wiggled her ass in a tease he would be sure she’d later regret. If he was going to spend the night with blue balls, then she would be screaming herself hoarse before he’d allow her to orgasm.

“I had a feeling this dress was the
one
when the assistant in the dressing room told me it wasn’t right.”

“What?” He watched Dale pull a tube of lipstick from a small purse and start applying it to her lips.

“She almost turned green with envy, so I knew she was lying. Besides, it shows my boobs off, and that can never be a bad thing.”

“I like your assessment.”

Dale held onto Kyran for balance as she slipped her feet into a pair of nude high heels. She kissed his cheek and said, “Good.”

“You left a lip print on my cheek, didn’t you?”

She gave her hair one last brush and reached for her clutch bag.

“Might have.” She linked her fingers with his. “Come on then, Rocky.

Time to party!”

He snorted at her pet name but followed her anyway.

********************

It took Dale thirty minutes to realize she was out of her depth. She was surrounded by money, luxury, and pretentious people, and she disliked all of it. Kyran was networking. He was wandering around the huge yacht, which was moored in the bay. He welcomed everyone and was hopefully getting them to write checks. After a brief introduction to his father and stepmother, Kyran had vanished, leaving her with a glass of champagne for company. The function was far removed from what she’d imagined it would be.

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

Looking up from her champagne flute, Dale smiled awkwardly at Kyran’s stepmother. “I’m fine, thanks.” She shuffled in her heels; her feet ached. “Um, it’s a great party, Mrs. Reese.”

“Call me Clara. Thank you for coming, although I do admit I’m a little surprised.”

“Why?”

Instead of answering Dale, Clara cupped Dale’s elbow and escorted her across the room to a few vacant chairs. She sat and patted the seat |