It isn’t.
It was only put on ice. Now, it’s been thawed and has since heated to nuclear proportions.
Kynan and I have gone out to dinner each night. Somewhere swank, always where the paparazzi hang out. I’m trending under the hashtag #celebritycouples, and tongues are wagging about my quick and totally romantic engagement to my first true love. Of course… I’ve been wearing the sapphire ring whenever we go out—to lend credence to the story.
In public, Kynan is doting, romantic, and affectionate.
Privately, he is doting, romantic, and affectionate. It is no hardship for me to return the same to him. The animosity between us has simply faded.
The nights are indescribable. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. Does things to my body I didn’t know were possible. He’s been inside places I didn’t think I’d ever let a man, yet I find I crave him everywhere. Anywhere.
Last night, he pressed a long finger inside my backside while he was fucking me, and I orgasmed immediately from the shock of it. Laughing darkly, he’d said he was going to fuck me back there one day. I was immediately turned on, horrified, and scared at the same time. But when he wants to do that, I’m going to let him.
“Anything else you want me to add?” I ask one last time, while I scratch the word “lube” on my list. Why not?
“No, that’s all,” he says. Closing his laptop, he smiles, and it reaches my heart. “Ready to go?”
“In a minute. I want to check my email first.”
“Okay,” he says, continuing to watch me as I move from behind the island. I walk into the great room, glance over my shoulder, and find Kynan still continuing to watch me.
“What?” I ask with a laugh. “Why are you staring?”
“Because I like it,” he replies cheekily.
When I roll my eyes, his smile fades as his eyes glint dangerously.
“Did you just roll your eyes?” he asks darkly.
“What if I did?” I ask, swiveling to fully face him with a hand on my hip.
“If you did,” he drawls while slowly standing from the kitchen stool. “I might just have to redden that ass.”
I’ll never admit that every fiber in my being would like that. He spanked me the other night in between using my vibrator on me, and I lost count of how many times I came. Still, I shake my head. “We don’t have time. We have to get to the gym, the grocery store, dry cleaners, and then come back so I can start getting dinner ready for—”
That’s as far as I get before Kynan lunges. I manage a half shriek before he’s lifted and thrown me across his shoulder, only to take two steps to the nearest couch where he tosses me down.
Half an hour later, my ass is on fire and I have a smile on my face.
?
There’s a box sitting on my front porch when we pull into the driveway. I don’t say a word, but perhaps Kynan saw me imperceptibly tighten up or he just got a vibe from me, but he’s quick to reassure me. “That’s something I ordered.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Because I have an app on my phone that alerts me when the cameras are triggered, so I saw the UPS man deliver it. Plus, I was expecting it.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see,” he says, turning the car off.
Kynan insists on carrying all the grocery bags in the house, which is fine. My arms are noodles after our workout. Kynan is in impeccable shape, while I realized I need to work out a lot more consistently. I’m going to be sore tomorrow, which means I should probably schedule a massage. I have a meeting tomorrow with a producer who is doing a movie about the legendary Dolly Parton and wants to discuss my interest in the role.
Although, “lack of interest” might be the better term. I was given the script a few weeks ago, and I passed on it. Making movies isn’t my thing. Frankly, I’m not sure I can pull Dolly off. She’s the queen. Legendary. I’m just… Joslyn Meyers.
I follow Kynan into the kitchen. After he deposits the bags, I start going through them, putting things where they belong. He disappears, then returns with the cardboard box in his hand.
“I had Rachel and Bebe working on a little project for me,” Kynan announces as he rummages in the drawer for a steak knife.
He finds one, then deftly slices through the tape. From within, he pulls out a small box. I pause, stunned when a pair of silver earrings are revealed. “What are those?”
“Earrings, kitten,” he replies with a smile.
I start to roll my eyes—but stop upon realizing it will only sidetrack us further—and ask, “I can see that. But what are they for?”
“For you.” He walks around the counter and approaches me, holding the jewelry out in the palm of his hand.