On the drive to Kyrnon’s place, the panda bear stuck between their bodies, the skies had opened up, rain pelting them on their way to his loft. Luckily, Amber’s flannel protected her, but she didn’t doubt by the time they got to his place, she would be soaked through.

She tried not to think too much about going to his place. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had a one-night-stand before, but she usually didn’t go back to their place. There was something about the security of her own space that made her more comfortable.

Turning down a street in Brooklyn, rows of old warehouses that had been converted into luxury lofts over the last couple of years lined the street. Despite the number of cars, it was rather quiet besides the roar of Kyrnon’s pipes.

The building they stopped in front of was an old mill if she wasn’t mistaken—a former cotton candy factory from years ago. And she could just smell the slightest traces of spun sugar in the air as they got closer.

There was something about older, industrial spaces that she loved. They weren’t as polished and perfect, and depending on the loft, it could hold a lot of character in its walls.

Driving around the side of the building, Kyrnon killed the engine, helping her off first before he did the same. Adjacent to the garage door he had parked in front of was a keypad, one that didn’t just require a four-digit code, but Kyrnon also had to press his thumb against a green checkered screen before a beep sounded and the whirrs of the motor for the elevator sounded.

Sliding both doors to the elevator open, he gestured for her to go ahead of him before rolling his bike in.

It was a short ride up a floor, and once they were in his place, she had her first look around. She might not have known what to expect, but she did know that what she saw fit him.

An oversized Irish flag hung on the wall, a tarp on the floor in front of it with parts of a motorcycle littered on top of it. There was a large, comfortable looking sectional made of worn brown leather that helped divide the living and dining rooms, an island with a polished concrete top sectioning off the kitchen.

And the kitchen … his kitchen was what dreams were made of. Stainless steel appliances. Dark cabinetry. If she could choose any kitchen to model her dream home after, it would be this one.

And if she were being honest, she loved everything about his space. There was just so much room for everything, and with the sheer vastness of it, she knew he had to have paid a good amount for it. She was already over paying for her much smaller one bedroom, so she couldn’t imagine what this place cost him.

Noticing the look of wonder on her face, Kyrnon asked, “D’you like it?”

“It’s amazing,” she said, but he had to already know that.

There was even a wall of windows so tall she had to crane her neck back to see the top, but even more interesting was how some of the panes had been exchanged for colored glass.

“Just wait until you see the bedroom,” he said as he headed in that direction.

The thing about lofts, it was hard to tell where one room began and the other ended, but from what Amber could see, Kyrnon had made it a point to have walls constructed around his bedroom, but these too were made of glass, only frosted, allowing some semblance of privacy.

Laying both hands on the handles, he pushed the doors open, revealing what had to be a California king. While Kyrnon disappeared into his closet, she had a look around his bedroom.

His bed was situated against the wall of exposed brick, soft gray linens covering it. The duvet was rumpled and hanging half off the bed like he had just rolled out of it and left it as it were.

“Bad luck,” Kyrnon said popping back out, “I only have shirts.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t like the T-shirt he was offering her would swallow her, only just big enough to maybe go a few inches past her stomach, but it was the fact that his smile of triumph was so blatantly male that she was shaking her head. “Really? Is that the best you can come up with?”

He gave his offering a little shake. “Laundry day isn’t for another two days—I have my schedules, you know. So, this is all I can do ye for.”

“And you just happened to have worn every last pair of pants or shorts you own?”

“What can I say … shite happens.”

Fine. If he wanted to play that game, she would too.

Popping the button on her jeans free, she tugged the zipper until the denim went lax and pushed it down her legs. That casual smile slipped from his face as his eyes shot down to her legs, but it didn’t disappear entirely.

Now … now he just looked captivated and curious as to what she would do next.

Stepping out of the wet denim, she left them in a pile at her feet, dropping her flannel on the floor next, and finally, she removed her crop top that was nearly see-through. When she stood before him in nothing more than her panties and bra, she looked back to him with her own smile and an eyebrow arched, waiting to see what he would do next.

“Not shy then?” he muttered, almost to himself as he ran a hand along his face, blinking as though he wasn’t quite sure he was seeing correctly.

Plucking the shirt from his hands, she took her time pulling it on before saying, “Not even close.”

“Fair enough.”

He stripped off his own shirt, tossing the wet material onto her own pile, then toed off his boots. It wasn’t until his socks and jeans were off too that she was definitely sure there was not an ounce of fat on him. Not anywhere. But as he stood upright, his head held high, she was sure she had never seen anyone look more proud of the effect they were having on someone.

And what reason did he have not to be?

The only tattoos he had were the twin bands on his forearm, and while his tattoos were few, he did have a number of scars. With everything on display, she could see the bite marks from the dogs, some around his sides and others on his legs. Others she had no idea how to describe but knew they had to have hurt when he got them, but none of them took away from his physical appeal.

It only made him look better.

Stronger.

“You like what you see?” he asked crossing the floor back to her.

Up close, she could see everything more detail, the sharp lines and contours catching her eye. There was a slight sheen to his skin, making him seem almost aglow.

“Oh, definitely.”

Running a hand through his hair to push the strands back out of his face, he said, “Mmm, wait ’til you see my cock.”

“You can’t help that, can you?” Amber asked as she stepped around him and back out toward the living room. His low whistle behind her made her cheeks burn.

“Irish charm, lovie.”

As he turned right for the kitchen, he patted the island, silently asking for her to take a seat. Planting her hands, she hefted herself up and got comfortable.

“Hungry?”

Amber shrugged. “I could eat.”

“Chinese?”

“That works.”

He was on the phone a minute later, ordering a number of different items, and when he finished, he tossed the device on the counter. Kneeling, he hunted through one of the bottom cabinets by her legs. When he found what he was looking for, he held it up in triumph, giving it a little shake for emphasis.

Whiskey.

Of course he had whiskey, though it wasn’t a brand she recognized.

Staying close as he got to his feet, Kyrnon grabbed a pair of shot glasses from the open cabinets above her. Even after being out with her and having been rained on, he still smelled good.

At this point, she was desperately trying to find something she didn’t like about him. With a face like his, that charming Irish brogue, and the way he just seemed so easy going … she was captivated.

“First,” Kyrnon said as he poured them both a shot. “Let’s drink to our health.”

He pressed a glass into her hand, clinking his own against it before he brought it to his lips, the muscles in his throat working as he swallowed.

Kyrnon didn’t even flinch.

Setting his glass on the counter, Kyrnon declared, “A drunk man is an honest one.”

Amber sipped hers first, warming up, then threw the contents back, her eyes watering as it scorched her throat. She could still feel the scalding heat as she set her glass down next to his. “That’s something my father taught me.”

“Irish?” he asked, pouring another shot.

“Scottish, actually.”

“Smart man.”

He was definitely that. “What part of Ireland are you from?” She knew, at the very least, he was from a northern region from the way his words dragged up at the end.

“Garrison, a wee village in County Fermanagh.”

“How long have you been here?” she asked, accepting the glass he passed her.

“Stateside, you mean? Not long. I travel … a lot.”

She wondered then whether he was just there on business, just visiting maybe, but then she didn’t want to contemplate the answer because that implied he would be leaving.

Reading her expression, he amended, “But I’ll be around for a while.”

Nodding, her gaze shifted over his chest, following the ropes of muscle, and the light dusting of hair. She hadn’t ever considered herself a girl that liked chest hair, but on him, it worked.

“Get in a lot of fights when you were younger?” she asked, tracing her fingers over one of the scars that decorated his side.

Tossing back another shot, he cleared his throat and said, “Bare knuckle boxing. I was a bit of a shite when I was a lad.”

Yeah, she remembered what he had said earlier—quick temper and fast hands.

“And these are nothing,” Kyrnon added, stepping between her legs, his body warm where her thighs touched. “I have worse.”

Amber sat up a little straighter, boldly looking him over. “Do you?”

Gently circling her wrists, he lifted her hands to his face, using his own fingers to press hers against his face along the sides of his mouth. At first, she didn’t know what he was trying to show her, not with the feel of the soft hair on his face, but as she ignored the sensation, she finally felt them.

Beneath his facial hair, he had what felt like two incredible scars on either side of his mouth. Though she couldn’t see them, she couldn’t help but think she knew what they were, though she couldn’t remember the name.

“The Glasgow Smile is what they call it,” he explained, pulling her hands away though he didn’t release her.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to this Garrison place, and maybe you shouldn’t go back if this is what happens to you there.”

A surprised burst of laughter left him. “Was all fine in the end, I promise you. But tell me, how’d you get this one?”

His hand slipped beneath the edge of her shirt, tracing her left side, stopping where her thigh met her hip and the discolored skin there. She hadn’t even realized he noticed it.

“Surfing in Bermuda with my brother. I hit a reef the wrong way.”

She could still remember the way the coral felt when it bit into her skin, scraping it off. That pain had been like nothing else, and the healing process had taken weeks.

Kyrnon whistled low, his thumb rubbing over the spot, offering comfort though there was no pain. “I hate water.”

“You can’t possibly …”

“I’m Irish, lovie, through and through. I stick to land.”

Maybe she would try to convince him to surf one day. There were days when she missed driving down to the beach with her board on the roof, ready to hit the waves just as the sun was peaking over the horizon.

She was going to have to get back to California soon.

A buzzer sounded suddenly, Kyrnon’s gaze going over to a panel in the wall. Carefully moving away from her, he hit a few buttons, an image of the delivery guy appearing on the screen.

“Aye, be right down,” he said into the mic.

He was obviously quite serious about his security, the thought of that scratching the part of her mind that made her wonder about just who he was.

And how was she supposed to ask that?

If he was affiliated with any mob, it wasn’t like he could come right out and say it.

But …

Maybe she could run his name by Mishca, or even Niklaus and see whether they knew him.

Kyrnon disappeared into his bedroom, coming back out with a pair of shorts on. When he saw her smirk, he threw out his hands. “They just appeared.”

As he went down to get their food, Amber threw back her next shot. Thankfully, it wasn’t nearly as bad as the first, and by the time he came walking back into the kitchen with a bag of food, there was a pleasant warmth settling in her stomach.

Maybe it was lust.

Maybe it was the whiskey.

But whichever it was had her looking at Kyrnon in a different way. She became far more aware of his presence, and maybe, as he glanced in her direction, he felt it too.

“My bed or the couch?”

The question was innocent enough, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t thinking of other possibilities. Pushing off the counter, she dropped down onto her feet. “Your couch is fine.”

And whatever he had planned for it.

Moving to the living room, she got comfortable, accepting the food he passed her. Grabbing the remote for the television, he switched it on, flipping through the channels until he reached…

“Turn it off, I can’t watch this episode.”

Kyrnon looked at her in surprise, then back to the television. “What in the hell do you mean? This was one of the best —”

“You take that back,” Amber said, balling up a napkin and throwing it at him. “The Red Wedding scarred me for life.”

Though she shouldn’t have been surprised. After that beheading at the end of the first season, she should have known that the author obviously hadn’t given a single fuck, but she had kept on, thinking that was the worst she would experience.

Wrong.

Now she was just a masochist considering she still watched it.

“Come now, his strategy was shite from the start. He should have known that he if he didn’t bend to…”

Plucking the remote from his hand, she changed the channel. “Doesn’t matter.”

Chuckling, he dug into his food, allowing her to pick whatever they watched. She didn’t particularly mind what was on, but she didn’t want to end up a sobbing mess because a fictional character she had grown to care about had died.

Finally settling on another movie on one of the HBO channels, they ate in silence. And as she finished, placing the container in front of her, she found that she rather liked just being next to him. The silence didn’t feel awkward at all.

She was content to watch the scenes play out, at least until he reached for her legs and drew them up onto his lap. He didn’t look to her as he did it, his fingertips drifting over her skin moments later.

This time, when she looked back to the movie, it wasn’t nearly as easy concentrating, too enraptured by his touch on her. That desire she had felt back in the kitchen came rushing back with a flourish. And with the pleasurable roughness of his hands, it wasn’t like she could easily ignore what he was doing.

At first she could have mistaken his touch for something innocent, but with each brief stroke of his fingers, his touch went higher and higher until she was so acutely aware of his ministrations that restlessness took over her.

She looked to his face then, wondering if she would see that same arrogance in his face, but she didn’t find that because his gaze was rapt on her legs.

He followed the path his fingers took, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Everywhere he touched made her feel lighter than before, until she was shamelessly parting her legs, aching for his touch to move just a little more inward.

A smile quirked his lips as his gaze dropped to the apex of her thighs, drinking in what she offering. The expression on his face shifted then, from arousal to something darker, something that she could almost feel.

She still wore his shirt, and her bra and panties, but with the way he was looking at her, she felt naked almost, like he could see every inch of her despite the clothes.

Turning toward her, one minute he was on the other side of her, the next he was between her thighs, his lips just a breath away from her own. This time she didn’t wait for him to kiss her, instead going up to kiss him.

This one wasn’t as soft as the last, but hungrier with the way he coaxed her into surrendering and giving him everything. It wasn’t until she felt the rigid length of his cock pressed against her through his pants that she drew back with a gasp, the contact sending waves of need through her.

“Are you mine for the night?” he asked as he ran a hand along her hip, slipping beneath the hem of the shirt she wore.

“Kyrnon …” It shouldn’t have even been a question.

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised, already dragging the shirt up her stomach, then over her head and finally tossing it off to the side.

She was his.

She was definitely his.

---

He needed to fuck.

It was as simple as that.

From the minute he had gotten her here, and she had quite boldly undressed in front of him, it had been a battle of his self-control not to put his hands on her right then.

The rain had soaked through her clothes, making her skin appear more supple and bronzed. And besides the scar from her surfing accident, her skin was smooth and unblemished.

The challenge in her eyes had been enough to excite him, to make him crave her so fucking much, but he had waited — for reasons he thought were dumb now.

She wanted him, there had been no mistaking that with the way she responded so readily to him.

But since tonight would be the first of what he hoped would be many nights with her, he wanted to learn her, figure out what made her come undone.

Kissing her one last time, he moved his lips down along her jaw, over her breast, and down her abdomen until he was at her center, covered in lace. Bringing his hand down, he pressed his fingers against her slit, dragging them up and back down, feeling the quiver run through her.

As he repeated the motion, his gaze shot up to her face, wanting to watch her reaction, see the pleasure he was giving her. But then that wasn’t enough, and in the next moment, he was dragging that material to the side, revealing her slippery sex to his gaze.

He hadn’t meant to take more than a taste, just wanting a sample of what his cock would be buried in, but the minute he had his lips on her pussy, his tongue dragging up her slit before delving between, he knew that wouldn’t be enough.

Amber was just so fucking wet, and he had barely touched her. His cock almost hurt from how hard it was. A whine left her lips as she reached for him, but he caught her hands, interlocking their fingers and pressing their joined hands back against the couch.

She was undulating against his mouth, her cries made him lick at her harder, but it wasn’t until he had his lips around her clit and gave it a suck did her back arch like a bow and a gush of sweetness hit his tongue.

Fucking hell, he wouldn’t last.

Forcing himself away from her, he sat up on the couch, dragging her onto his lap, her back to his front.

A shuddering exhale left her as her head fell back against his shoulder, her back arching farther. He knew, even before he got his hand back in her knickers that she was going to be wetter than before for him.

He meant to take his time, find all the spots that made her squirm and beg, but he was just as fucking impatient as she was.

“Show me how you like to come,” he said instead, feeling her response to his words as she arched further, desperately seeking out the fingers he was refusing to give her.

As she started to follow his instruction, his gaze shot to the mirror across the room, their reflection giving him the perfect view as he watched his fingers slip beneath the waistband, following the same path her hand had taken.

Just watching her drag a finger down her slit, then coming back up to rub at her clit had his cock throbbing with need. No, she wasn’t shy by any means, and he knew once he got her beneath him she wouldn’t hold back, giving as good as she got.

But right now, he just wanted to watch her come, watch her fall to pieces.

Dragging the cup of her bra down, he cupped her breast, feeling the cool metal of the bar she had through her nipple. The second he tugged at it, pinching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, she moaned low, her hips shifting, grinding against his cock.

She was a beautiful sight, getting herself off like that, but it wasn’t enough for him. He needed to feel her come undone beneath his hands.

Tugging her hand free of her panties, he lifted her off him just enough to drag her panties down her thighs before he had his hand in between her legs again, fingers seeking out the slippery flesh between. Touching her gently, he didn’t linger at her clit like she seemed to so desperately need, instead drifting lower until he could press his middle finger inside her, taking his time as he felt her pussy clench around the invasion.

But as quickly as he was inside her, he was pulling back out only to add a second. A wordless cry fell from her lips, her hips grinding in his lap as she tried to force his fingers deeper, but he dropped a hand to her waist and held her steady.

She was close already, so fucking close that he could feel the greedy pull of her walls around his fingers. But he wasn’t ready to let her come yet — he liked her exactly as she was.

“Kyrnon, please.” It was the most she could manage.

“So bloody impatient,” he muttered beneath his breath, punctuating his words with a twist of his fingers, feeling another gush of hot arousal cover his fingers.

He was sure he could keep her like that, dangerously close to the edge, but when he drew her back against him, dragging his teeth along the cord in her neck, she exploded, and when she did, her head fell back, her mouth parting.

“Kyrnon, yes!”

His control snapped the moment he heard his name on her lips, sending a flood of adrenaline rushing through him. On minute he still had her in his lap forcing an orgasm out of her, the next she was on her back, and he was crawling between her spread thighs.

Breathless pleas fell from her mouth as she reached for him, desperate to draw him closer, and seeing her like that had him shoving his boxer-briefs down, too impatient to get them all the way off.

As he squeezed his cock, trying to reign himself in, he couldn’t remember a time when he wanted to fuck somebody as much as he wanted to fuck her in this moment. His blood was racing with need, and it was taking every fucking bit of concentration in him not to just shove into her.

But he wasn’t going to deny himself much longer.

Grabbing a foil packet from the pocket of his pants, he tore it open, pulling the latex from it and rolling it onto his cock.

Grabbing hold of her leg with rough fingers, he dragged her closer, hooking her leg around his waist as he angled the blunt tip of his cock at her entrance and pushed forward.

She was like a fucking vice, squeezing him before he could even get completely inside her. The need to just take her right then and there made a sharp sensation slide down his spine, but he held back the urge.

He wanted to drag this out for as long as he could because he knew just by the way she responded to his touch that if she was made to wait, her orgasm would be stronger.

When he was finally in as far as her body would let him, he gave her a moment to adjust to the feel of them, and when he felt her go lax, he carefully eased out of her, and back in again.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Her words were a soft, heady sound, making that smile on his face grow wider.

“Does it ache?” he asked, cupping her breast a moment before he slid his hand back down, using his thumb to make tight circles around her clit.

She was beyond words, full lips parted as a keen sound clawed its way out of her throat, washing over him so acutely, his next thrust into her came harder, faster until he was in a harsh rhythm inside her.

It took every bit of considerable control not to give himself over to the pleasure that was heating his spine. Jesus, it was so fecking good that she was greedy like this, soundlessly begging for his cock as he fucked her harder than before.

He didn’t even realize he had slipped into Gaelic as he told her how much he loved fucking her pussy — how he was about to come from the way she was squeezing him.

It was like a fire was raging beneath his skin, one that she was feeding with every moan out of her mouth. It wasn’t just the feel of her pussy squeezing his cock that was getting him off, but the breathless moans, the way she clung to him so tightly.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had ever gotten so close so fast, but when he felt her go tight around him again, Kyrnon couldn’t put it off any longer, coming so hard he saw stars.

As his senses came back, becoming more aware of the droplets of sweat sliding down his back in the coolness of the room, he knew without a doubt that once was definitely not going to be enough.

Slowly pulling free of her, he carefully removed the condom and tied it off, dragging his pants back up as he went over to the kitchen to drop it in the trash.

Turning off the television and leaving everything else for the morning, he helped Amber to her feet, and just because he wanted to, he carried her back into his bedroom and deposited her on the bed.

It didn’t take long before she was dozing, having slipped off to sleep once he was beside her. While Kyrnon may not have been mentally tired, she had managed to drain every bit of energy he had left. Usually, he would be perfectly fine to leave his partner slumbering as he went off to do something else, but instead after going out to double check and make sure all his alarms were set and the place was a fortress once more, he rejoined her in bed.

A few hours, he thought as he closed his eyes, draping an arm around her and drawing her back into his hold.

That was all he needed.

---

It was the warmth of the sun beaming down on her that woke Amber the next morning. Lifting her head, she peeked over to the other side of the bed, but it was vacant, and as she laid her hand where she vaguely remembered Kyrnon having been the night before, she found his spot to be cold.

As she became more aware, sitting up and dragging the sheet with her to shield her nudity, it didn’t take her too long to figure out where Kyrnon had gone. She could hear pans rattling as he moved around in the kitchen, and if she wasn’t mistaken, that heavenly aroma that was wafting out of there was the smell of bacon.

Amber was also glad that she wasn’t suffering from a dull headache from the few shots she’d had the night before. Usually, she felt something the morning after having drank anything.

But then again, she also might not have been feeling effects because she had sweated out what little whiskey she’d had. She wasn’t even sure how long they had spent out on his couch, then down on his floor.

Whether she wanted to or not, remembering the way his hands felt on her made her breath catch.

Figuring it would be best not to hide out in his bedroom, she slipped out of his bed, heading over to the walk-in closet she had seen him enter the night before.

There weren’t many suits that lined the walls, his wardrobe made up of mostly jeans and tees. One wall was even dedicated to strictly boots, pairs that looked like they were used for combat as opposed to fashion. Also, she happened to find a drawer full of sweatpants.

Of course she’d known that he was full of it when he told her he had nothing for her to wear the night before, but it was different seeing the evidence of that lie.

Grabbing a pair, she pulled them on, pulling the strings at the waistband to tighten them on her. And finally, grabbing one of the hanging T-shirts, she went in search of his bathroom.

It didn’t take her long to freshen up — the beauty of carrying travel-sized items in her satchel at all times since she worked a lot of odd hours — then she was off to the kitchen where she found Kyrnon standing at the stove with a pair of sleep-pants hanging low on his waist as he fried bacon in a large cast iron skillet.

Before now, she hadn’t given much thought to the idea of his looks still affecting her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t gotten an up close and personal view of him the night before, but it was just the way he stood there so effortlessly—hair in disarray and nothing to protect his chest from popping grease — she found herself smiling all over again.

She felt lucky.

Climbing up onto one of the bar stools, she rested her elbows on the island and watched him work, tracing the faint scars that decorated his back with her eyes. She had seen the ones on his chest quite clearly, but she didn’t recall seeing these.

These looked a little more deliberate, as though someone had inflicted them on him.

As he finished removing the last few strips of bacon from the pan, turning the stove off, he moved in search of a plate. He seemed so focused on his task that she wondered if he even knew she was there, watching him. It wasn’t like she had announced her presence, but she got an answer to that when he finally plated the strips and set them down in front of her, along with a glass of orange juice.

Coming around the island, he briefly paused at her side, pressing a lingering kiss to the delicate skin just below her ear and whispered, “Morning, lovie.”

Yeah … she was putty.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t grown up around varying accents her whole life, but there was something about the way Kyrnon spoke that made her wonder whether she would just melt right through the floor whenever he said anything.

“Morning,” she said watching him circle back round to pour her a cup of coffee. She found she liked him in the morning.

When he had the mug sitting in front of her, he asked, “Did you have a good night?”

One of the best nights of her life if she was being honest, but she simply said, “I did.”

He was about to say something else, when the strong vibrations coming from his pocket stole his attention. She didn’t know what kind of settings he had on his phone, but she didn’t think she had ever heard any that loud.

His gaze on his phone, he said, “I need to take this. Give me a moment.”

Kyrnon stepped off to the side as she remained at the island, finishing her breakfast. She was about done when he rejoined her.

“I have an errand to run, boss’ orders.”

“That’s fine.”

She needed to get going anyway. He could drop her off at home, and maybe after she pulled herself together, she could get some more work done.

It took her a moment to realize Kyrnon hadn’t responded, but when she did, turning her head to look at him, she found he was closer than before.

His expression turned softer as he cupped her face, his thumb stroking over her cheek. “How’s about a kiss?”

It was never just simply a kiss with Kyrnon. No, he had to take over her every thought, consume her mouth like he was trying to take everything from her. The unyielding press of his lips, the lazy way in which he moved his tongue to tangle with hers, and finally just the slightest bite of pain as he nipped her bottom lip.

Putty.

“Three days,” he said after drawing back. “Your place.”

It was a date.