Something About a Hot Guy

I should have known better than to even move in his vicinity.

Should have known my clumsiness would get the best of me.

Because my little toe caught on the leg of the end table at the side of the couch, and oh my goodness, the pain. Splintering pain that shot up my toe and foot.

A shout of agony burst free of my mouth.

“Oh . . . shoot. Oh my goodness. Oh my . . . fuuuuudge.”

I was gasping for breath as I hauled my foot up, holding it in my hands to try to ease the sharp, breathtaking pain as I hopped around erratically on one foot, flying from one side and then to the other.

Kyle shot to standing, and before I could make sense of it, those big hands were on the outside of my arms. Holding me up.

Warmth spread across my flesh.

Molten chocolate.

At least, that’s what I’d always envisioned his touch would feel like. Only, it was so much better than that, fire that flamed up my skin and seeped in deep. This intense energy transferred in the connection. I wanted to melt into it. Get lost in the sensation.

Too bad I was the only one who felt the spark.

I whimpered with the pain that had started to throb, unable to stop tears from pricking at my eyes.

Leave it to me to make a complete fool of myself.

Without an ounce of effort, he lifted me by the arms and shifted me around, and he carefully sat me down on the couch.

“I think I’m dying,” I cried, sure there wasn’t a worse pain in all the world than stubbing your little toe.

Forget childbirth.

Or maybe I was just dying of embarrassment.

“Are you all right?” There was no missing the bit of laughter he was holding back as he knelt down in front of me.

Groaning, I threw my arm over my eyes. “No. I think I broke it. And don’t laugh at me.”

“You didn’t break it.” He tsked a little, and it was low and soft and made all kinds of funny things happen in my belly that I definitely shouldn’t be feeling right then. Especially with the way he was right there, in my space, the man prying my foot from my hold and cradling it in his hands.

Heat flamed, glowing from within, filling me with need, my thighs shaking with something else entirely than the anxiety that loved to hold me prisoner.

Studying my foot, he winced. “Shit . . . you did a number on this. It’s already swollen.”

My eyes flew open. “Are you serious? Oh, no . . . it’s broken, isn’t it? Why does this always happen to me?”

“Let me get some ice. Sit tight.”

“Like I’m going anywhere.”

He climbed to standing, though he didn’t move away. He just leaned over me, his presence thick and massive and overwhelming, so much so that my chest heaved with a needy pant. His mouth came up close to my ear. “And neither am I.”

Shivers raced, stealing the blood from my head, replacing it with a swell of lightheadedness that wooshed through my senses.

Leaving me weak.

I tried to gather myself when he moved for the kitchen, all that cool easiness radiating from every step he took. Desperately, I tried not to stare over the back of the couch as he sauntered to the refrigerator, but there was nothing I could do but watch as he moved.

Confidence oozing from that body.

So easy.

Easy in a way I’d never known.

He filled a zippy bag with ice while I sat there shaking with apprehension, hating that I was this way. For just one day, I wanted to be normal. Confident and strong and brave.

Sexy.

Wield the kind of power this man wielded over me.

Just as fast as he’d gone, he was back with a dishtowel wrapped around the bag. He returned to kneeling in front of me, careful as he placed the bag on my aching toe.

I flinched at the cold, then gave in as he spread a big hand around my ankle and gently pressed the cold pack to my toe.

“There we go.”

Unable to bear his proximity, I reached for it.

Kyle nudged my hand away. “I’ve got it.”

“I can take care of myself,” I whispered, realizing I was begging. That I needed him to understand I couldn’t be this close to him and not feel as if I were coming apart. Missing something that I’d wanted for far too long.

Loving someone from afar was the cruelest sort of penalty. Watching them go on without you as if they’d never noticed you were there in the first place.

Rough laughter scraped up his throat. “Clueless Kenna.”

A hurt breath left me, and the tears I’d been trying not to cry welled in my eyes. I couldn’t believe he would still call me that. After all this time. What was more disturbing was that it still affected me this way.