Benath the Surface (Reluctance #1) Page 9

  “Not really.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Not a huge fan of anything that greasy.”

  Dale snorted and tucked her damp hair behind her ears. “So why did you bring me here? We could have gone anywhere.”

  “Not dressed liked that.”

  He gazed at her and lingered on her breasts. They ached, as though aware of his scrutiny. The ache grew rather uncomfortable, causing her to squirm. She’d told herself today they needed distance—that she wouldn’t follow him to the club—but her resolve had shattered. Maybe she’d never actually had it to begin with?

  “What are we doing, Kyran?”

  “Eating.” He winked at her, followed by a cheeky smile. The whole expression seemed out of character, but then she reminded herself she didn’t know him enough to say whether it was or not.

  “You said we should talk, so let’s do it.”

  Kyran set his cardboard cup down on the table, an air of seriousness flowing between them. Her gut clenched with anxiety, and she started chewing on her straw.

  “I’m assuming you want honesty?”

  Dale nodded.

  “Then I can honestly say that being with you in the boardroom, and then in the shower, was not enough.” Kyran’s green eyes glittered like gemstones. He snaked his hand across the table to stop her assault on the straw.

  Dale smiled, pushing her drink away. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, shocking isn’t it?”

  “No. I just thought I was alone in my—”

  “Lust?”

  “I can say it. I’m not a virgin. We had sex—”

  “Twice.” Kyran grinned again and squeezed her hand before interlocking their fingers.

  “Are you going to let me speak?”

  Kyran mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key. This playfulness was a whole new side to him, one that was a striking contrast to his stoic business attitude. She found that she liked both sides, even when he was acting like a moron.

  Tired with his interruptions, Dale started again. “We had sex. Twice. I’m worried where that leaves me as your employee.”

  “Same place it did when you walked into my office—Taylor’s assistant.”

  “But we’ve crossed a line.”

  He stared down at their hands, his jaw rigid. When he did speak it was low and deep. “Only you and I are aware of that.”

  “True, though secrets like ours never last long.”

  Kyran looked around the restaurant before he said, “Are you concerned about your job, Dale?”

  “Not really.” She shrugged. “There are laws against unfair dismissal.”

  A smile of appreciation lit up his face. “And I don’t doubt for a second that I’d find myself in need of my lawyer if I so much as tried to fire you.”

  “Correct.”

  Kyran untangled their fingers but didn’t let her hand go. “You have no idea how much it turns me on.”

  “What?” Dale asked, breathless.

  “That you’re not a pushover—that you give as good as you get.”

  “That’s what you’re used to, isn’t it? People doing whatever you tell them to. Yes, Mr. Reese. No, Mr. Reese. Whatever you need, Mr. Reese.”

  “Christ, it’s hot when you call me Mr. Reese.”

  Dale laughed out loud. The noise burst into the quiet restaurant. “Don’t get too comfortable with it.”

  “Don’t see why not.”

  She rolled her eyes, wrenched her hand from his, and resumed eating her fries. “So back to the original question. What are we doing?”

  “Does it have to be titled?”

  She took a moment to think. Was it important to name what they were doing? And if they didn’t label it, where would that leave her?

  “Do you want me to be your dirty little secret?” she blurted out, seeing the bluntness shock him as he blinked.

  Gaining his composure, he cocked his head, his voice husky as he said, “As much as I like you dirty, I would have to say no. I just don’t see why we should complicate matters by living under a label.” He took a deep breath. “I’m incredibly attracted to you, Dale. We’re compatible sexually. Why not leave it there?”

  “Just sex?”

  “You’re a big girl. I’m sure you understand the concept.”

  Dale glowered at him. “Do not patronize me.”

  Holding his palms up in mock surrender, he ducked his head. “Don’t shoot.”

  Good Lord, the man was stunning when he shed his corporate skin. He was turning out to be far more than she’d imagined.

  “You’re an idiot.” Dale ruined her mock sternness by smirking.

  “I’ll add that to the asshole you called me earlier. We’re going to have quite a list.”

  In an act of petulance, she stuck her tongue out at him. Kyran leapt out of his seat, the legs of the chair scraping along the floor. He fisted the front of her borrowed T-shirt, hauling her across the table. The edge of the plastic bit into her hips as his mouth crashed against hers.

  Dale fought for breath and gripped Kyran’s shoulders to stop from toppling over the table. He pressed his lips harshly against hers, a deep growl emanating from low in his chest. Kyran tightened his hold around the cotton of her T-shirt, bracing himself on the table with his other hand. She trembled, and it only increased when he swept his tongue along her lower lip. Someone cleared their throat, but Kyran didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow down. When Dale attempted to pull away, Kyran moved closer. She couldn’t retreat. Not that she wanted to.

  The ringing of her cell broke Kyran’s concentration. He kissed her again before he loosened his hold on her shirt. “I’ll j-just get this,” she whispered, pressing her fingers against her swollen lips. She fished around in her purse for her cell, but it stopped ringing before she could find it. She looked at Kyran as he sat back down, and decided the conversation with him was more important than whoever had been calling. They would call again if it was important. “What was that all about?”

  “How the hell do I know? Who was it?”

  “Not my cell,” she said impatiently, sitting down. “I meant that kiss.”

  His eyes drifted to her lips, pointing to them as he whispered, “Your tongue. Every single time you stick it out I lose my mind.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Delighted with his small confession, she reached for his hand and assessed his raw knuckles. “Do you always end up this sore?”

  Kyran chuckled. Dale’s stomach flip-flopped at the throaty sound. “This isn’t sore. This is nothing, Dale.”

  “But you have bruises on you ribs. I saw them when we were in the shower.”

  His eyes glinted at the mention of their earlier time together, and Dale’s skin heated as he wet his bottom lip. “Bruises heal. No big. Now, are we going to return to the original topic?”

  “I thought we’d covered all of the bases on that one.”

  Kyran shook his head. “You wanted to give this a name, whereas I prefer to take each day as it comes.”

  “No, that’s not where we were at all. I wanted to know where that leaves my job.” Dale lowered her voice. “You’re my boss.”

  “Work is work. This is . . . well, this is something else.”

  They stared at one another, each waiting for the other to speak. Dale had the distinct feeling Kyran was a planner and never let things play out on their own. Which begged the question—why he was okay with doing that now? What was it about her that made him react differently? The man was a puzzle. One she wanted to solve.

  Toying with her hair, she raised her brows. “So what you’re saying is; we keep this out of work and everything will be peachy?”

  “Essentially, yes. Is that look of disgust on your face a no?”

  “I have no clue.” She threw her hands up. “I told you, I don’t make a habit of sleeping with my boss.”

  “I don’t intend to do much sleeping,” he muttered.

  “I’ll be honest with you. I’m worried.”
>
  Kyran turned her hand over and traced the lines on her palm with his index finger. “About your job? I can understand your concerns, however I don’t see an issue if we agree to keep them separate.”

  “We’ve already broken that rule.”

  “That was my doing, and it won’t happen again.”

  Disappointment bloomed low in her stomach. The sex they’d had in the boardroom had been the most intense experience of her entire life, and for him to say it would never happen again was disconcerting.

  “Do you believe a relationship built solely on sex can work?”

  “I think we’ve already proven we’re amazing when it comes to sex, Dale.”

  Brushing his comment off with the wave of her hand, she pointed out the obvious. “We don’t know each other, and yet you’re talking about an extreme level of intimacy.”

  “Extreme? Not at all. But referring to your earlier point about how much we know each other, let me underline a couple of things. Firstly, you are the only person I have daily interactions with—besides Sam—who knows what I choose to do at night.”

  “Besides sex.” She added a smile.

  “Yes, besides fucking you.”

  “Crude,” she said, about to stick her tongue out but thinking better of it. They needed this discussion.

  “No, just to the point. Anyway, because you know that particular aspect of me I would say you know me more than anyone. Then there are my tattoos.”

  Dale hummed, recalling the gentle waves lapping at his skin and the weird code spiraling from shoulder to wrist. His ink had been unexpected, but it suited him. She refused to hide her appreciation.

  “Only two people who matter to me knew about my arms until the day I met you.”

  “And now there are three.”

  Kyran shook his head, holding four fingers up to her.

  “How so?”

  “I went down and used the basement gym after meeting you. I was wired, couldn’t think of anything else but you. Lost my head so much that I didn’t put my shirt back on and someone came in.” He paused, taking a drink of his coffee. “So when it comes to knowing each other, I’d say you know more than most.”

  “That’s rather sad,” Dale said.

  “Maybe.” Kyran looked at the cashier then back to her. “Look, can we get out of here? We’ve got an audience.”

  Dale followed his gaze and saw two female cashiers watching them. She waved and laughed when they blushed and fumbled as they tried to appear busy.

  “That was cruel.” He spoke into her ear as took hold of her arm and pulled her to stand.

  “Not at all. They shouldn’t have been staring.”

  Kyran kept his hand at her elbow as they walked out of the diner. She checked her watch; it was late. A few street lamps illuminated their way, not that she had the first clue where they were going. Not that she cared. Dale loved being with Kyran, and she wasn’t ready for it to end.

  “So,” he said, his voice sounding far louder out in the open than it had in the diner. “Are we in agreement?”

  Playing coy, she pretended to think. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you do. Me, you, sex. Lots of.” He shoved her shoulder hard enough to knock her off-balance, but when she was about to fall, he caught her. He wove his arm around her waist, lifting her off her feet.

  “Put me down, you moron!”

  “You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you? I don’t know what I’ve done to warrant such names.” Kyran tightened his hold on her, laughing when she began to struggle. “You won’t win.”

  “I could kick you in the balls,” she said, very amused.

  “Thanks for the warning. I’m now prepared for your feeble attack.”

  “Your balls won’t be.”

  They both burst into laughter. She wouldn’t admit it to him, but she liked his power. She loved that he could pick her up as though she weighed nothing at all. There was no question about her agreeing to his proposition, though it didn’t hurt to give his ego a knock or two. He could take it. Besides, she enjoyed the playfulness they had going on.

  When he set her down onto her feet, she pushed at his chest, and he laughed. “You’re so not funny, and I will kick you in the balls.”

  “So you keep saying.” He captured her hand and fit it snugly against his side. Dale shivered—from the cold air and the feel of his body against hers. She fell into to step with him, feeling relaxed.

  “Where are you taking me?” Dale asked, trying not to snuggle up to his side.

  “To bed.” He turned down a side street.

  Dale came alive at his words, her hormones surging and her libido escalating. She followed him without question . . . well, there was one. Whose bed were they going to?

  Chapter 11

  Kyran stormed down the corridor, not bothering to announce himself before he barged into Taylor’s office. Tired of playing games, he’d lost all patience with his dear brother.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” He slammed a file onto the man’s desk. “This corporation is not your personal piggy bank.”

  Taylor raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot, and they thinned as they met Kyran’s. “Huh?”

  Kyran clenched his hands. He told himself that punching the living daylights out of the man was definitely not a good thing. On a daily basis he could tolerate his brother, but at times, that tolerance was tested to the limits. Like today. He was tired of cleaning up Taylor’s destruction.

  “ ‘Huh?’ That’s all you’ve got for me? You’re a joke. An utter fucking liability.”

  Taylor said nothing; he didn’t even blink, which incensed Kyran even more. The lack of response grated on Kyran. “What is it with you? Do you wake up each day wondering how you can fuck it up more than yesterday? Or do you plan out how to piss me off?”

  “It’s not all about you,” was Taylor’s mumbled response.

  His brother could barely speak, his words were so slurred. Kyran looked closer, noting Taylor’s disheveled appearance and unruly hair. He checked his watch, exhaling before asking, “Did you just get here?”

  “Been here since nine, just like you.”

  “Eight.” Kyran spat the word like venom. “I’ve been in this office since eight, you fucking waste!”

  Taylor snorted, not bothering to hide the smile on his face. Kyran tried to breathe slowly, using any technique he could think of that might stop him from beating his brother to a pulp.

  “Eight, then.” Taylor clutched his head in his hands, a pained expression contorting his face. “So now that we’ve cleared that up, will you leave me alone?”

  “We’ve clarified nothing, except that you’re the liability I always knew you were.” Taking a deep breath, he continued to speak. “I have my own shit to deal with, Taylor. I cannot be covering your ass all the time.”

  “I never asked you to do it in the first damn place.”

  “Fine. Fuck it. You deal with your own shit. I’m not trailing after you with a shovel anymore.” Kyran picked up the file from where he’d tossed it on the desk. “Which means, dear brother, that you’ll need to provide Dad with an explanation where twelve grand of the corporation’s money has gone.”

  Taylor shot up, his eyes wide. At the exact moment, Dale walked into the office holding a small espresso cup in one hand and a packet of aspirin in the other. The fact that Taylor had Dale tending to his hangover just aggravated Kyran further.

  “Did he ask you to get him pain relievers?” he shouted but instantly regretted it. It wasn’t her fault, and there was no need to yell at her.

  Dale glanced between the two men, fumbling for something to say. She opened her mouth and closed it again quickly before giving in and shoving past Kyran to hand the coffee and pills to Taylor.

  “No, he didn’t ask me. I saw he wasn’t feeling well and thought he needed some help.”

  “He needs far more than that.”

  “Do you think you’re helping matters
by yelling at him?” She helped Taylor sip from the small cardboard cup. “Let him have aspirin, give him an hour, and then you can go as wild as you like. Okay?”

  “Since when are you his babysitter? And I really don’t think he needs you to help him drink. He has hands.”

  Dale cocked her hip as she placed her hand on it. She wouldn’t let him get to her, which was a good thing considering how pissed he was at the moment.

  “Mr. Reese, please. I’ll personally deliver him to your office as soon as he can string a coherent sentence together. You have my word.”

  Kyran held his tongue. He wouldn’t say anything that might upset her. His issue was with Taylor, not Dale.

  She watched him for a moment before her gaze darted to the door. It was clear to him she wanted him to leave. He bit back a smile as he turned away from them, amusement at her actions diffusing his anger. She’d referred to him by his last name and hadn’t flinched. She astounded him.

  Clearing his throat and trying to will away his growing erection, he sternly said, “He’d better be in my office within the hour, Ms. Porter. I’ll hold you personally responsible if he’s not.”

  Dale rolled her eyes and waved him away with a wiggle of her fingers. Kyran stalled, about to shoot her a sarcastic response, but he caught himself and continued forward. Not bothering to close the door to Taylor’s office, he walked along the corridor, intending to collect his gym clothes and blow off some steam in the basement. The voice drifting from reception put a halt to his plans . . . and his hard-on.

  Clara, his father’s future ex-wife. At least she would be when his father came to his senses. She flicked her red hair over her shoulder, checking out her manicured nails. As usual, she balanced on her high heels, making up for her barely five foot frame. Kyran thought she looked ridiculous.

  He winced when she laughed, her maniacal giggle far too loud in the quiet of the office. She did it on purpose; it was like her personal calling card, warning them that she was there. Of course, he’d have to greet her, otherwise she’d go in search of them and stumble upon Taylor with his mighty hangover. Yet again he was covering for his brother, and he wasn’t sure why.

  “Great,” he muttered. “Just great.”