“Anything exciting at work?” Kyle asked, blue eyes twinkling in the dimmed candlelight. Tonight, he was wearing a suit three shades darker than his eyes, a white shirt underneath unbuttoned at the very top, and his blond locks slicked back to perfection, framing his face.
I lift a shoulder in a shrug, my knife cutting through the grilled Brazino on my plate. “You know Katerina Simone?” I asked, closing my eyes, moaning as I took a good bite of my dinner choice. When I opened my eyes, Kyle was observing me, eyes dilated with an emotion I could not point out. “What?” I wiped my mouth with the napkin.
Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, he reached for his wine. “Stop moaning like that,” he said, lips hovering over his glass.
I bit my lip, cheeks warming up.
Kyle and I had been together for two years and engaged for one, yet he never failed to make me blush.
Tucking my hair behind my ears, I reached for my own drink. When Kyle looks at me like that, like he couldn’t wait to strip this little black dress I had on, I easily lose my focus.
I looked the other way, hoping to get my mind back on track, taking in the fancy gold accent and framed artwork lining the wall. The tables next to us were largely occupied by couples twice my age. We are in one of the swankiest restaurants in Boston. Words go around that reservations here could take about a month or two, yet I doubt Kyle waited that long.
Being a son of a lawyer and doctor, Kyle is used to dining in places like this, cutting through the list of people in line with his surname. As for me, second to the youngest of four children born to a school teacher and a police officer, not so much. My family’s idea of a big night out is a barbecue in our backyard with mom’s special hot pot pie.
“Katerina, Fernando Simone’s daughter?” he asked. He had his game face on, and I’m sure this night would end better than the lemon pie for our dessert.
‘Why are we talking about Katerina again?’
“She walked into the office and specifically looked for me,” I said, shaking my head. I pinched myself a handful of times to believe the events at Lewis Brown Public Relations this morning. For the last four years, I crawled up the ladder of LBPR from Intern to Account Coordinator and got promoted to Account Executive two years ago. “She said,” I made a quotation in the air, “‘Gia Marquez told me you are the best in this field. I need you to work for me,’ and let me tell you, I literally heard crickets in our office.”
“Really?” Kyle murmured, brows tilting to the ceiling.
I hummed a yes.
Gia Marquez is the most challenging client our team has ever handled. It’s funny how she could put a good word about me when she had cursed me and my roots to my face when I was working her case. She was a total brat, coming from old money, just like Katerina.
Shaking my head, I set down my glass with a sigh.
“You accepted her,” Kyle commented. It’s one thing I love about Kyle. He can read me like the back of his hand. A crease in my brows, a sigh, a pout. I don’t know how he does that, but he just gets me.
“What can I do?” I circled the mouth of my glass with my fingers, shoulders slouching. “Georgia gave me two choices: accept Katerina or take this billionaire client in Rio.”
Georgia, my senior account executive, candidly dislikes me for unknown reasons.
Kyle reached across the table, taking my hand. He stroked my knuckles with his thumb. “I know you can do it. You made it this far, and this is your dream job. Don’t let Georgia stop you from reaching your goal.” Our eyes locked, and his sincerity caressed my heart like his thumb did to my hand. “I know a good way to make you forget about your worries,” he smirked.
Like an obedient puppy, my mind instantly shoved away what worries it was constructing. I gripped Kyle’s hand, tilting it up, my fingertips tracing his palm lines. Pressing both elbows on the table, I lowered my voice and asked, “oh yeah?”
He huffed, setting down his empty glass and catching my wandering fingers. “Sounds like you are challenging me, Baby Girl.”
Oh, he’s in the mood tonight. Being seven years older than me, he loved calling me ‘Baby Girl’ inside the bedroom.
Kyle shaved a good five minutes off from what typically takes a thirty minutes drive from the city to his upstate mansion. After parking unceremoniously at the roundabout, Kyle slid out, opened the door for me, and basically plucked me from my seat. He trapped me against the door after shutting it with a thud, plowing his fingers through my hair, smashing our lips tantalizingly painful. His soft lips tasted of wine with a pinch of lemon pie.
“You will be sick tomorrow,” he said, biting my lower lip, his hard-on pressing on my hip bone.
Mind fogged with lust, I pulled away to confirm if I had heard him correctly. “Are you a mind reader now, Atty. Andrews?”
He gripped my jaw tight enough to get my full attention. “I’ll fucking ruin you tonight, Sofia,” he stated, eyes skimming down my body. “You know I go crazy seeing your legs like this, yet you chose this skimpy dress on a workday date night.”
I swallowed hard. Empty promises were never Kyle’s forte. Georgia would kill me if I called in sick on a Wednesday, especially after taking on an important client like Katerina. “It’s what I had in mind when I chose this,” I said, clutching the lapel of his suit.
Kyle groaned, gripping my hand. In a handful of steps, we are inside his mansion. Once inside, Kyle yanks me to face him, grabs my jaw, and smashes our lips together. He groans impatiently as I part my lips, letting him deepen the kiss. He kept steering us through the house until my butt bumped on an edge.
With the help of the warm corner lights, I realized he had brought us to the kitchen, my back resting on the edge of the kitchen island.
“Tell me you’re mine.” He kisses his way down my throat, palming my breast with one hand, the other reaching for the side zipper of my dress.
“I’m yours, all yours,” I said, gasping as the cool wind blasted my skin, following the ripping sound of fabric.
Kyle’s demonstration of strength stirred my excitement to a new height. He spun me around with an impatient growl, skipping all foreplay. He ripped my black thongs, the ruined fabric joining my dress around my feet. The fumbling of his belt was music to my ears. Warm hands trailed down my spine, guiding me to bend over the island.
And there, Kyle proved he was a man of his word; the ruining comment might have been an understatement. He marked me, owned me just like every time we were together.
Through the desire overdose, we reached his bedroom and slept in each other’s arms, spent yet satisfied.
In the middle of the night, I woke up with a dire need to pee. When I went back to bed, the continuous blinking of Kyle’s phone on the nightstand grabbed my attention. I grabbed his phone to wake him up, thinking it was an emergency.
‘I warned you, Kyle.’ Flashed on the screen. ‘I’ll tell her myself if you can’t.’
My hand froze mid-air waking Kyle up, curiosity getting the best of me. I knew Kyle’s PIN, but I never unlocked his phone without his knowledge. Typing my birthday on the screen, what I read through ruined me indeed, not only for tonight, but for the rest of my life.