There were three sounds I couldn’t stomach hearing. One was a siren, loud and screeching, sounding like a panicked scream, announcing to the crowded city streets there was a shit-ton of trouble. That was never a sound that set well with me because it never led anywhere good. Second to that was a baby’s cry, especially one who can’t be consoled. It’s the wailing shriek of pain, something that doesn’t disappear until you walk away or they pass out. That one I didn’t like because it filled me with a helpless, useless sensation, something I never wanted to be.

But, the worst sound I think I’d ever heard was the desperate cry a woman made when she was scared, when she was so devastated that nothing that sounded anything at all like clear words left her mouth.

That was the sound that rattled through the receiver when my phone rang. My heart skipped beats, and I held my breath the second I heard Kit’s high-pitched, “Kane, I need you.”

The fact that she needed me because my fucking asshole of a brother had let her down had me pressing my foot harder against the accelerator as I sped toward Seattle.

“It’s stupid, crying like this,” she’d said, doing that sniffle thing she did when she was trying to hide the fact that she was upset. It reminded me of the same crack in her words that came after she’d gotten the call that Jess had died. “I just…when I heard the president was speaking today, and Kiel promised to get me in…” She paused, sniffling again before her words came out disjointed and breathy. “Jess…she knew I’d always wanted to meet him…just shake his hand.”

I’d listened to each wobbling word as I’d moved around my rental, half dressing, half listening as I tried to keep my own voice calm.

“It’s not stupid,” I’d promised her, silently listing the ways I’d do bodily harm to my kid brother. With each passing second, that list got longer and more brutal. The bastard had fucked up big-time, and I wasn’t about to let that shit go.

“He said he’d do you a favor, and he flaked.” I’d taken a breath, holding the cell to my ear as I tore through my closet looking for something suitable to wear. It was a speech but not formal, so no suit, I didn’t guess. In fact, I should have just settled on jeans and a T-shirt. But the second Kit explained, in that shattered, sniffling tone of hers, that Kiel had landed press passes to hear the former president’s speech at the Westin Hotel in Seattle, that he’d even managed to find out when the perfectly timed speech would end and where the greeting line would be as the man left the building, I’d decided I had to finish the job.

“Besides,” I’d told her, sliding on a pair of black Dickies and a gray button-up, “the man is your idol. Shit, how many times did you have me helping you register voters or toting boxes of bumper stickers in my truck for you to pass out every time he ran for president?” That earned me a pleased sigh, and some of my panic ebbed but not one fucking ounce of my anger. As I slammed my front door closed and hopped in my truck, speeding through Ashford to hit the freeway, I added “two swollen eyes” and “a split bottom lip” to the list of things Kiel needed done to him.

“Kane… Look, the other day on set with your brother…”

She didn’t finish, likely thought my loud exhale was me gearing up to say something. Instead, I cleared my throat, figuring I should explain why I’d acted like a jealous boyfriend, but I chickened out, asking her for the second time in ten minutes where she was. “Near the kitchens?” I’d asked, breathing a little easier when she spoke and her voice sounded clearer.

“They won’t let me any farther without a press pass.” I could make out her heels clicking against what sounded like a tile floor as she walked, and I had to push back the image of Kit’s long, forever stretching legs in a skirt and tall heels.

I shifted in my seat, blinking when something came to me. “Ah, the Westin, you said?”

“Yeah.”

I nodded, though I knew she couldn’t see me, but I smiled, remembering a guy I knew from an old construction job we both had with the city fifteen years back. “I’ll be there in a bit. Leave everything to me. I know somebody who can get us in.”

* * *

“Right here.” Chris Lewis nodded toward the crowd, pointing out three empty chairs at the closest table by the kitchens. “That table is sold, but I know for a fact Senator Collins is on the fifth floor getting personal lap dances from two Little Darlings’ strippers.”

“Nice,” Kit said. The smile lit up her face, even I could make that out despite the lack of lighting around the banquet hall.

There were at least two hundred round tables in the hall, all draped with white linen tablecloths and simple centerpieces. The president hadn’t been announced, but his wife was on the stage, looking like something out of a pinup movie, her dark skin lineless, beautiful as she stood in a cream dress that accentuated her curves, surrounded by the dark burgundy drapes of fabric that covered the windows behind her on the stage.

“He won’t show?” I asked Chris, pulling Kit back when she looked like she might want to make a beeline for the empty seats. “Wait till she finishes. We can sneak in when they stand and clap.”

“He won’t show,” Chris told me, shaking my hand when I offered it. “I’ll make sure he stays distracted. It’s good to see you doing so well, man.” The guy shifted his gaze from me to Kit, then smiled when he watched me again. “Long overdue.”

I didn’t bother correcting him, half wondering if Kit had heard the implication behind Chris’s words over the first lady’s speech. But Kit’s focus was on the stage, and her eyes widened, making her look mesmerized the longer the woman spoke.

“Thanks, Chris,” I said. “I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t.” He held up his left hand, and his smile went wide. “Fourteen years next month, all because my wife thought you were too grumpy.”

I laughed, feeling a little nostalgic over the memory of the worst blind date of my life. Bethany Wilkes hadn’t liked me one bit, and she might have left me in that restaurant when I’d clammed up and didn’t give much away. Hell, I’d only agreed to the blind date to get my mother off my back about me not dating anyone. But Bethany had been a good Samoan girl, someone my mom thought would be perfect for me. She was pretty enough. Had a banging body, but there was zero spark.

Well, there was zero spark until I ran into Chris outside the restaurant, and he and Bethany started up a conversation as I went to grab my truck. I stood zero chance with her after that first introduction.

“Glad I could help you out, man.”

“Likewise,” Chris said, nodding to Kit then me before he walked toward the back of the hall.

Just then, the first lady announced her husband, and we took advantage of the crowd’s roaring claps and standing ovation as the overhead spotlight landed on the former president who bent to kiss his wife and shake hands with the governor.

I led Kit to the empty table, guiding her with my hand on the small of her back. The noise of the crowd died down, and we sat next to each other, our attention on the man at center stage. He was tall and thin, looked a lot older than I’d expected, though I guessed he was probably more rested, and a lot more relaxed now that his second term had ended.

“He’s amazing,” Kit said. There was no hint of upset left in her tone, no sniffling wail that had greeted me two hours ago when I picked up my cell. The second I’d spotted her in the hotel, she’d run to me, face against my chest, fingers curled around my collar like I was the lifeline she’d been waiting for.

Gotta admit, that shit felt good. No matter that I’d made an ass of myself just a couple days ago on the set because Kiel had stood too close to her. Like always, Kit got over my mood and attitude like it had never made an appearance. Like always, I’d forgotten everything but making sure she was taken care of, that she wasn’t upset, because that’s what I did best. That’s who we were—friends, sure, but more than that. We were each other’s people. We had each other’s backs. No amount of pissy attitudes would change that shit.

She was right about one thing. The man on the stage was amazing. He was impressive, and while I’d never been in his fan club the way Kit had, I respected him. He was charming, articulate, and as far as I could tell since I didn’t really pay too much attention to politics, meant what he said when he said it.

The speech progressed, with the president cracking jokes, earning laughs and rounds of applause here and there, but my attention wasn’t on the intelligent man trying to drum up votes for his party’s local senatorial candidate. I gave exactly one shit about politics and it wasn’t a very big one, but I loved watching Kit’s expression. It was open, awed. The tears had dried off her face, and the slow wobble in her chin was completely gone now. Every now and then, she’d look away from the stage, shooting a glance at the side of the stage or the exits, I guessed trying to see if anyone was coming to kick us out. But then she’d look at me, eyes soft, expression relaxed, and I stopped caring about what the president had to say or how many laughs his corny jokes got.

Kit looked beautiful, as always, but there was something so open, so exposed to the look in her eyes as she listened to the speech. Those large dark eyes were wide, unblinking, and her lips were separated slightly open, enough that I could just make out the tip of her pink tongue when she wetted her bottom lip.

Shit, I wanted to kiss her. No matter what I’d told her about wanting her the way I did or how it had to be for me. Just then, I didn’t think about keeping Kit at a distance. I didn’t think about her list or the things I definitely wanted to do to her but couldn’t subject her to. In that second, I only knew she was happy, she was amazed, and she had never been more beautiful to me.

“That’s why I think it’s essential that we elect folks who will assure that the next generation…”

“He’s wrapping up,” Kit whispered, leaning next to me so close that I could smell the hint of coffee on her breath. She took my hand, moving one side of her mouth up as she watched me. “Even if I didn’t get to shake his hand, this is enough. Kane, you did this. You made this happen, and I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t…”

“Come on,” I told her, cutting her off when the crowd stood again, and the president waved to the crowd, his wife at his side.

“Kane…wait, we can’t…”

“Jess said shake his hand, not just hear him speak.” Kit kept up with me as I pulled her through the crowd, spotted two of the men Chris had talked to to get us past security and through the employee hallway.

“But, Kane, there is no way…”

“You giving up?” I asked her, shooting a frown over my shoulder. That stopped her, and Kit tilted her head, moving a slow smile over her mouth. “Didn’t think so.”

We made it to within five feet of the stage, bypassing the gathering crowd of reporters as they congregated toward the backstage area, near a roped-off section that led from the stage to the back entrance. There were no velvet ropes or plastic tape sectioning off the area. But there was a row of men, all decked out in black suits and white shirts, black ties, dark shades; all with earpieces as they stood shoulder to shoulder, attention on the grouping of reporters and the small crowd of hotel staff that inched over each other, getting up on their toes to see past the Secret Service.

“Damn.” I heard Kit say, holding on to my arm as we stopped behind the reporters. She followed as I moved, leaning to the right to see what we could make out in the smallest space between the stage steps and the first Secret Service man. I pulled Kit in front of me, but I could easily see over her head as we both angled our bodies toward that opening.

I was about to apologize to her, feeling shitty that I hadn’t been able to make up entirely for Kiel being such an asshole. I’d even gone so far as to lean down, closing my eyes against the smell of her hair and the heat of her skin. But then there was a small commotion from the reporters, and the security team inched to the left as the governor left the stage, then several more people, and Kit gasped, pointing to the steps as the first lady descended.

“Look, Kane…” she started, and I nodded, smiling at the excitement in her voice.

“Kit, I’m sorry I couldn’t…”

“Ms. Carlyle?” We heard, both of us looking up when a mammoth Secret Service man stepped away from the crowd and stood right in front of Kit.

“Yes?” she said, stretching her neck to look up at the guy.

“Someone would like to speak to you.” He paused, glancing up at me. “Both you and Mr. Kaino.”

“Oh,” she said, reaching behind her to grip my arm. We followed the man, and Kit kept a tight hold on my fingers, so tight that I had to move her hand, holding it in mine as we moved past the reporters and were led farther down the hallway and into a small room near the back exit.

“Wait here,” the man told us, then left, pulling the door shut behind him as he went.

“What the hell do you think…” Kit started, whirling on me as she paced. She was worked up, doing a lot of small, irritating things that were her usual way when she was nervous. But I didn’t tell her to calm down or stop bouncing her foot when she leaned against one of the five round tables in the room. I thought maybe she’d work up some static electricity with the white and beige carpet from how quickly she paced, but I kept my suspicions to myself. Kit didn’t need me telling her to calm down. That shit wasn’t gonna happen no matter what I said.

“Did you…” she started to ask, going silent when I held up my hands, then gasping under her breath when the door behind us opened and the first lady and the president walked into the room. “Holy shi…” She went quiet when I nudged her, and then, just like that, on-air Kit showed up.

“Ms. Carlyle,” the president greeted, offering his hand, which Kit took, looking composed, confident, though I did spot the quick shake in her fingers. He must have noticed it too, because the man held his free hand over Kit’s as she shook, and he tilted his head, offering her a smile that was smooth, charming, but genuine. “And Mr. Kaino.” He offered me a similar handshake, then introduced the first lady, who greeted us too. “My wife is a fan of your show.”

“You’re kidding,” Kit said, a laugh in her tone that made me smile. She looked up at me, like she needed me to confirm what the president admitted.

“It’s the ratings, Kit. Bill said they’re big now.”

“Of course they are,” the first lady said, stepping forward. She had a wide smile, perfectly straight, white teeth, and from where I stood, the woman smelled incredible. I got a little star-struck watching her as she looked between me and Kit. That shit never happened. The first lady glanced at her husband and nodded at us. “Remember I told you about the show I watched where the people went into the homeless shelter and renovated it?” She looked back at Kit when the president nodded. “That was in Tacoma, right?”

“Yes,” Kit said, head shaking like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “It was my favorite project we’ve done. It meant the most.”

“I could tell.”

“Sir,” the Secret Service man said behind us, drawing the attention of the president, who nodded at the man.

“Yes, well, we have to get going.” Again, he offered his hand to Kit, then to me. “It was a pleasure to meet you both. I hope you’ll keep doing the work that makes you happy.”

“Yes,” the first lady said, waving at a woman to her side. “Would you mind?” The assistant held up a cell phone, smiling at us.

“Not at all,” I answered when Kit only stared back at the woman. “Come on, Kit. Stand by the president.”

She moved like she was on autopilot, but she stood where directed, smiled when the assistant counted, and with just a few snaps of the camera and some parting words, the president and first lady and all the hangers-on behind them left the room.

Kit went on staring at the door for a long time after they left, and I smiled, head shaking as she stood there. “Eventually,” I told her, leaning against the wall, “you’re gonna have to blink, or your eyeballs will drop right out of your head.”

“Kane.” She exhaled, head in a constant shake as she turned to me. “That was the fucking president and first lady,” she said, finally blinking.

“I caught that.”

“They know we exist in the world.” She moved close, eyelashes fluttering now.

“Figured that out when she asked for five hundred pictures and promised she’d tag you on Instagram.”

“Kane…”

Finally, I pushed off the wall, nodding as she went on staring, not seeming capable of more than a few words.

“Come on, Kit. Let me take you to your car.”

By the time we made it to the back entrance, the motorcade had vanished, the reporters had thinned out, but the crowd of hotel staff and curious onlookers had doubled in size. Kit followed behind me as I held tight to her wrist, relying on my size to part the crowd as we left the hotel and headed toward 6th Avenue and the parking garage.

We caught the attention of several groups as we moved, but no one bothered us, likely because Kit wore an expression that was a little giddy and ridiculous. She didn’t seem able to make the wide smile leave her face, and I wondered how long it would take for her to let reality shift back into place.

“The President of the United States,” I said when we were nearly to the parking garage. I dropped Kit’s hand, and she walked at my side. “Was he everything you imagined?”

“Definitely.”

“You on cloud nine?”

“Absolutely.”

That made me laugh, and the sound of my voice brought Kit’s attention to my face, made her laugh too. And as we came to the gray building up ahead and the garage entrance, that laughter seemed to relax her. Kit wrapped her arm around my waist and I let her, liking how good it felt to have her close, how normal it seemed to me.

“You know, I could go for…”

“Oh my God! It’s you!” We heard behind us, and I walked faster, pulling Kit’s arm from my waist to get us into the parking garage. “Hey, Kit! Kane, hold up a second.”

“Fuck,” I muttered, stopping when Kit turned. She held on to my wrist to get me to hold back and nudged my ribs.

“Ratings, remember?” she said behind her hand as two fans approached, both older ladies who looked to be in their sixties. They sported gray hair, the tips dyed pink, and stood in front of us, their phones already out from the fanny packs at their waist.

“Trust me,” I whispered, “Bill won’t know about this shit.”

“I’m honestly on such a high right now I could smile for a thousand annoying fan pictures.”

I liked seeing that smile. I liked how real Kit looked. I hadn’t seen that from her since before Jess died. Right then, with her greeting the fans, answering the shit-ton of questions they threw at her, how Kit didn’t bat an eye the more personal those questions got, I realized I’d do just about anything to keep that expression on her face. Even deal with overly curious fans.

“Kane, you’re so handsome.” The older woman winked at me, then seemed to think of something that made her laughter die. “Oh, Kit, I’m so sorry. That’s so rude of me. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

“It’s not a problem,” I said, leaning down for a third picture with her friend.

“No. No, it’s not,” she said, looking between me and Kit. “You know, we all saw that video.” I glanced at Kit, surprised when she kept smiling, when that flicker in her eyes only got brighter. “Well, everyone saw it, didn’t they?” The woman’s laughter returned, and she tugged on her friend, pulling her away from me. “I think we should get a shot of just the two of you.” She glanced between us, then at her friend. “That’ll be lovely for the fan site, won’t it, Ethel?”

“Oh, yes, Linda. You do a picture, and I’ll take a video.” Then Ethel widened her eyes, bouncing a little on her feet. “Oh lord, you know what would be great? If you two kissed. Oh, the fans would just die.”

“Oh, honey, yes!” Linda took to bouncing like her friend, both old women moving closer, adjusting their phones as I stood still, my shoulders aching from the tension that had settled between them.

“I don’t think…”

Kit cleared her throat, looking up at me, and I realized the request hadn’t done anything to take the smile from her face. “Ratings,” she mouthed, and then I faced her, forgetting for a second that we had an audience.

“You sure?” I asked her, thinking the spark in her eyes had gotten brighter. I wondered if it was the last-minute meeting with her hero that had given her the smile she wore, or if there was something more to it. I half wondered if I’d done something to contribute to it.

“The fans, you know,” she said, her tone a little mocking. And when Kit’s smile only widened, when she pushed against me like she’d been doing it for a lifetime, I decided I didn’t care about the fans or the president or anything at all in the world but my friend and tasting her sweet mouth again.

It started slow, that kiss; a brush of our mouths, the smallest hint of wetness we shared. And then I inhaled, catching the hint of Kit’s breath, that airy scent that made me a little drunk.

Next to us, I thought I heard the women laughing, making noises that I recognized as approval, but my mind was wrapped up in the taste of Kit and the feel of her against me, of her breath hot and damp against my lips, of her fingers sliding over the back of my neck. Then I held her face, covering most of it with my hands, enjoying her, all of her, for just a second.

Those vivid daydreams swam back into my head just then, and I didn’t imagine faceless assholes who didn’t know how to touch Kit. I saw myself touching her, taking everything she had, covering her body with mine, pushing apart her legs with my knees, diving in so deep that I got lost.

Distracted as I was by the taste and feel of her, I barely noticed when she started to pull away, and I opened my eyes, watching her, forgetting for a second that we weren’t alone, that she wasn’t mine to take like this. But logical thought went out the window. Reason left me completely. I wanted to keep on tasting her, and I was damn tired of pretending that Kit was only my friend.

“Kane…” she muttered, but anything else she might have said got lost when I pulled her closer, moving my hand to the back of her head, threading my fingers into her hair and diving back into that sweet, tempting mouth.

She let me.

Kit gave as good as she got, tongue and teeth and touches that were the sweetest tease. We got a little lost in the moment, my blood hot and burning me alive, and I liked the fire she set inside me and how it scorched. It was only the catcalling and old lady shrieks that broke us apart, though even that was a torturously slow movement.

I felt Kit freeze when the women started screaming, all giggling laughs and professions that we were scorching. “Holy shit!” one of them said, but I didn’t look at her.

The small oath was enough to stop us, and I pulled back, still holding Kit’s head, unable to do anything but look over her face, tempted to dive right back into where I’d just been.

“Well,” Kit said, licking her lips, and that one word was enough to bring me back to myself.

“Hmm.” It was no word at all; it was the same grunt of noise that tended to wiggle out of my throat anytime I was at a loss for dick-all to say. And I was, but I was also burning for my friend and eager to get away from our audience. “Ladies,” I finally said, nodding to the old women as I led Kit to the garage entrance and straight for my truck.

She didn’t speak at all as we got off the elevator and found my pickup. Kit didn’t even remind me that she’d driven from Ashford and that her car was in the same garage. She didn’t say anything at all as I opened the door for her, still trying like hell to get my blood to keep from burning me alive. Every inhale I released brought back the taste of Kit’s lips and the memory of how warm her breath had been, how soft her tongue had been against mine.

We were out of the city and near a stretch of walking trails before I even realized where I was headed. My truck moved, I steered it, but in that cab, neither of us made a sound. Not until I spotted a long walking trail and a cluster of trees near the small parking area. I didn’t think about doing it. Didn’t use my blinker. One minute the thought of her over me, our bodies pressed together was in my head, then next I was hanging a right and finding two large Hemlock trees with limbs in need of a good cutting.

“Kane?” Kit said, finally speaking, finally doing more than looking out her window. “What are we doing here?”

I threw the truck into park and unbuckled my seat belt, debating what I wanted and what should be done. With any damn common sense, I would leave that truck, take a walk to cool down. Maybe run the trail just to get the taste of her out of my mouth, replace it with heavy breathing and sweat.

I had no damn common sense. Not when it came to Kit.

“Kane?” She repeated, then sat up straight when I leaned over to unbuckle her belt. “What are you doing?”

Kit was my friend. She meant a hell of a lot to me. She watched me at that moment as if I had answers she needed. As if anything I did would have to make sense. But I was out of answers. I was relegated to need.

“This,” I told her, pushing the seat belt from her waist. It took exactly two seconds to lean toward her, pick her up, and settle her right over my lap. She felt warm, her light weight comforting. And then, I took her face between my hands and pulled her mouth to mine.

She released the smallest noise, half gasp, half moan until she responded, going at me like there was nothing left in her that wasn’t primal and basic. It was fucking glorious.

“Kane,” she panted, a low shift of noise that moved from her throat and turned into a moan when I pressed her against my throbbing cock. “God, Kane.”

“Kit, kiss me,” I told her, trying like hell to keep myself from losing it completely. I told myself I only wanted a taste, just that small reminder of what it felt like to kiss her, but fuck, it was hard to keep my control. “Kiss me,” I told her again, “like you don’t wanna stop.”

“I…I don’t…”

Yep.

Control.

Gone.

Kit rocked against me as I kissed her, pushing her down again and again on my cock, feeling that sweet warmth of her pussy as her skirt lifted higher and higher. I smoothed my hand over her ass, gripping the fabric, the tips of my fingers grazing the swell of her round ass.

“Ah…” she whined, grunting as I squeezed her ass, and I shuddered when she went at my neck, nibbling, biting, pulling my ear between her teeth, working her hips over me like she was fucking me silly.

“Want… Fuck, I want to taste you,” I said, licking her neck, teeth against the tender skin of her collarbone, my free hand over her nipple. “Bet you taste sweet.” I sucked on her bottom lip, grinding myself against her pussy. “Bet you taste sweet every fucking where, Kit.”

I liked control when it came to sex. I liked to take and give and not be gentle. It turned me on to be in control, to have no inhibitions, to be free to fuck like I wanted. I’d thought about all of this, with Kit starring in my filthiest fantasies. But in that cab, with her rocking over me, with Kit’s teeth and wet mouth drinking me up, I didn’t give a shit about control. I didn’t give a shit about doing anything but being with her however she wanted me.

“Kane…I want…”

My heart raced, and I felt my pulse throbbing in my neck. “Tell me what you want. Fucking please tell me what you want, Kit.”

“Touch…” She shuddered against my thumb when I grazed her nipple. “Shit, Kane, I want you to touch me.”

“Fuck…”

Sex was easy, and passion made you reckless. I could have moved her then, laid Kit on her back and fucked her raw in the cab of my truck. I could have gone balls deep, filling her up, touching and taking and having my fill because we both clearly wanted this shit to go down.

But as she moved against me, as I inched my fingers down her ass, to the curve of her legs, toward the sharp bone of her thigh, up to her damp thong, I realized what I wanted at that moment wasn’t for anything to happen, but to see her fall apart. Not because I fucked her quick, but because I touched her right.

“You want my touch?” I asked against her ear, loving the sight of her features, how she sucked on her bottom lip, how my teasing touch over her thong, against her throbbing pussy, had her panting, moving against the tracing touch I gave her.

“Yeah…yes, I want you to touch me, Kane.”

“Bad?” I said, frowning when I held my finger still and Kit moved down, catching my fingers between her pussy lips. “Christ…”

“Touch me, please,” she said again, and I couldn’t take how badly she shook, how small beads of sweat had started to collect along her forehead. “God, Kane, don’t make me beg.”

Even I wasn’t that cruel. “Whatever you want…”

I watched my friend Kit shake, her nipples pebbling against her shirt, her body arching as I pushed her thong aside and felt her wet, warm pussy, as I slipped two fingers inside her and circled her clit with my thumb.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby. So wet and warm.”

“Yes,” she said, her entire body shaking. I couldn’t stop watching her, couldn’t stop wanting to taste her, feel her. I could have come right then, just watching her as I touched her, as I filled her just a little.

“Squeeze against my fingers, Kit, squeeze tight and I’ll make you come.” I lifted up, leaning to kiss her neck as I worked her pussy, teasing, finger-fucking her until she was dripping, until those walls got tighter and tighter. “You like this? Feeling me inside you?”

“Kane,” she panted, and I knew she was close. “Please.”

“Please what, beautiful? I need you to tell me. What do you need?”

The loudest moan came when I sucked on Kit’s nipple, teeth rubbing against that hard flesh. “Faster,” she said, the words coming out in a pant. “And harder.”

“Shit…”

No fucking way I’d deny her. No fucking way I’d be able to stay away from her or lie to myself about not wanting her, not needing her. I curled my hand, the knuckle hitting deep inside her, right against her G-spot, and I sped up the action, smiling as I heard Kit’s breath go uneven, as she slammed her eyes shut and clamped that pussy around my fingers.

A few more swipes of my thumb against her clit and two fingers deep inside her and Kit shuddered, screaming a quick succession of “Yes, yes, yes!” before she came on my fingers, wetting my jeans and filling the cab of my truck with the smell of her body.

Nothing had ever been sweeter to me. Nothing would ever be again.

“Kane,” she whimpered and fell against me, her body spent.

“I’ve got you, Kit,” I told her, holding her close. “I’ve got you.”

I fucking meant it.