Kyran Alexander had no idea how he was going to make the woman that he adored beyond anything see him as more than a fried. And he damn sure didn’t know how he was going to make her stop hating a national holiday made just for lovers but he was determined to try. Could he get his long time best friend and the love of his life Maryssa Williams to see past the pain of one experience and have a change of heart?
“When are you gonna stop making me chase you?” Kyran asked softly.
Her eyes watched the movement of his lips closely, stared at the strong line of his jaw, his beard, his nose, his sharp cheekbones, and finally his thickly lashed brown eyes. God, those brown eyes had been making her melt from the first moment they looked at her. Kyran didn’t just see her. He saw through her, and that scared the shit out her. Her best friend wasn’t supposed to make her feel this way. It wasn’t right. He was the one man besides her daddy that she trusted, and she couldn’t ruin that with...with...with whatever it was that he wanted from her.
“As long as I can run, you’re gonna be chasing me,” Ryssa finally answered.
One side of his mouth kicked up in a sad smile. “I’m not Malcolm, Rys. I was here long before he ever came into the picture, and I was there when he stepped out of it. You can’t keep waiting for the other shoe to drop with me.”
Ryssa jerked away from him; his words as well as his touch caused things to roil in her that she didn’t want to explore any more than necessary. “I know who you are.”
One blond brow rose. “Do you?”
Her chin chucked up a little higher. “Yes, I do. Fifteen years and counting, I’ve known you. I know the way you think, the way you operate.”
This time his eyes sparkled, his smile mischievous. “Do you now? Tell me.” Kyran stepped closer, backed her into the door. She was guessing that was exactly what he wanted, because he chuckled a bit and locked it. “What am I thinking right now, Maryssa?” His tone was low, mocking.
From the way he pressed his much larger frame into hers and she could feel something the length and width of a cucumber pressing between the apex of her thighs, she could take a good guess. The problem was she couldn’t take her mind there. She wouldn’t take her mind there. So she lied.
“I have not the slightest clue.”
When his mouth curved into a grin that made her feel like one of the three pigs facing the big bad wolf, she knew that was the wrong answer.
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