He’s staring at me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m serious or just messing with him. Then he looks away.

“I thought so,” I say. Suddenly, he closes the distance between us and he’s kissing me. But this kiss isn’t sweet or gentle, no, he’s kissing me like he’s punishing me.

And it’s amazing.

A muffled moan leaves me and his tongue slips between my lax lips. He can have whatever he wants. I’m not going to struggle. I want this. I’ve wanted this for a while, and knowing he has feelings for me changes nothing.

Well, that’s not true. It makes her sure I’m right. That this is perfect. That this man, as imperfect as he is might just be perfect for me.

I feel like my body is melting into him as he pushes me further. His tongue dances around mine and I whimper, feeling my knees tremble like they’re going to give out on me. His arm circles my ribs like steel and he holds me upright as his tongue continues to plunder my mouth like I’m a prize he’s won.

And it feels good.

My arms wind around his neck and I cling to him, feeling like a starving woman tasting ambrosia for the first time in forever. It’s like coming home and finding perfection all at once. Every inch of my skin is alive, my heart is slamming, and my head is swimming.

The lightheaded sensation isn’t unpleasant, though. It feels right.

His hand slips down the front of my pants and I feel his fingers questing in the delicate vee between my hips. And I can’t help but moan in pleasure as he expertly parts my flesh and strokes my clit in a long, gentle motion that sends my body lighting up like a Christmas tree. I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want him, right now.

“Oh, Victoria,” he growls, his teeth capturing my lower lip.

All I can manage is a strangled moan of pleasure as my head falls back. He takes advantage of the access to my throat and begins to taste my flesh here and here, sending tingling pleasure throughout all my nerve endings.

My hips buck against his fingers as I beg for more with a pitiful, shameless whimper.

Suddenly, he’s stroking me quicker, my heart is hammering my ribs, and I feel faint. I’m hanging on the edge of something incredible, but it’s just out of reach.

And I feel Sentinel’s whimper.

Instantly, Kyle’s balancing me on my feet, his hand gone from the delicate button of pleasure between my legs. “You okay?” he asks me gently and I nod.

“Yeah,” I say, then I call out to Sentinel. “Hey boy.”

He whimpers and I hear the pain in the sound. Kyle drops to his knees as Sentinel comes in. “He popped a couple stitches,” Kyle says, scooping Sentinel up in his arms. I head toward the front door, knowing he wants to get him over to the office to stitch him back up.

We’re quick to cross the parking lot. Kyle tilts his hips as we halt before the door. “Keys, right front pocket,” he says and I reach into his pocket and pull out the keys. I unlock the door and open it for him.

“Code 4372,” he says and I hurry over to the box. I punch in the code and rush back to turn on the lights for him. He’s got Sentinel on the table.

“Stay,” he tells him and Sentinel lays down, placing his head on his front paws as he watches Kyle move around and get ready. Kyle washes his hands and I follow suit. He gets supplies out and I dry my hands before walking over to stand shoulder to shoulder with him.

He takes the wicked, fishhook-looking needle and threads it. I see where the stitches popped and see some ooze and blood coming from the spot. “Can you help me?” he asks, his blue eyes serious as he looks at me.

“Yes,” I say, hoping he trusts me when I say that I can.

He nods. “Glove up,” he says I pull on a set of latex gloves. “I need you to dab up the blood with some of those sterile pads,” he says, and I do so. Sentinel lets out a little whimper and I tell him to shush. We need the quiet, I need to hear every order Kyle gives me. It’s more important than comforting Sentinel right now. He’ll feel better when we’re done and I’ll give him a treat for being good.

With the blood clean, Kyle snips the snapped stitches and pauses to let me dab the fresh blood. I clean it up again and he quickly sews a couple neat stitches and ties them off. I dab blood and he snips the thread.

“Perfect,” he says, looking down at me with something that’s a bit too close to respect for comfort. “You did amazingly well. I might have to hire you on,” he says and warm pleasure washes over me.

“Thank you,” I say, but can’t help teasing him a little bit. “But then you’d never be rid of me.”

And I decide it’s time to own up to my own mistakes. “Sorry I called you an asshole. You’re not. And I know why you did it.”

He stiffens a bit and I decide to open up to him a little. “I regret all the things I missed, but I’m not excited to experience life on life’s terms. Plus, Love doesn’t have to look a certain way. It just has to feel right.”

At the word love, his eyes meet mine and lock on with the most intense stare he’s given me yet. And I know why. And I’m strong enough to say it.

“Yes, I love you. I know I’m crazy. I’m not supposed to say it because it’ll scare you away,” I pause to shake my head at myself. “But I’d like you to give me a chance to decide what I want.” My voice grows stronger as my courage rises word by word. “And I’d like you to be honest with yourself about what you want, too.”