KYLE: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 4) by Glenna Sinclair Page B
Authors: Glenna Sinclair
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my toiletries into a bag, then returned to the main part of the apartment to shove jeans and t-shirts, a few nice blouses, a pair of slacks, and my one good dress into a worn, pathetically used duffle bag. Again, Kyle didn’t say a word, but I could feel his judgment in the way he watched me move.
“Just a week’s worth,” he said. “Anything more you might need, we’ll buy in Boston.”
I nodded, but I didn’t take anything out of the bag. I wanted my things. I didn’t want to feel like I was dependent on him for more than I already was.
The last thing I grabbed was a photograph of my family that was tucked into a book in my nightstand. Shoving it into my shoulder bag, I turned to Kyle.
“Ready.”
He held out his hand, and I thought I might blush again. The memory of his touch was still there, this pulsing in my clit and this sense of fullness inside of me…I didn’t know what to do with it. I was overwhelmed with shame and excitement all at the same time. It was as if I’d done something wrong, but it was so much fun I wanted to do it again.
And again and again…
I walked toward him but didn’t take his hand. He slid it over my shoulder as he followed me out the door, resting his hand against the small of my back and that was worse, somehow. There was a rented Cadillac Escalade waiting for us at the curb. It was late, an hour or two until dawn. I should have been exhausted, but I was energized with a nervousness that made my hands shake and my knees knock. Kyle helped me into the passenger seat before slinging my bag into the back with his and climbing behind the wheel. It wasn’t but a few minutes before we pulled through the gates of a private airstrip just outside the city.
“You have a jet?”
“It belongs to Callahan Industries, my father’s side business.”
I just nodded, my eyes drawn to the slim lines of the jet and the model-perfect people standing beside the steps leading into the interior. They must have been the pilot and the rest of the crew. There were two men, both impossibly handsome and well coifed despite the hour, and a woman who filled out her skimpy uniform the way a woman was supposed to fill out a tight, little outfit like that. She made me feel frumpy in my jeans.
Kyle helped me out of the car, his eyes moving over my face for a long second.
“I’m sorry for the rush. Hopefully things will settle down in a day or two.”
I wanted to say that things could rush for as long as they needed to. This situation—whatever it was—had saved me from having to do something I knew was coming, but was hoping I could avoid. I knew he’d expect me to sleep with him. But I…I barely knew him. How could I give him something I hadn’t given the boy I dated for three years in high school, or the man I was briefly engaged to after a two-year relationship in college?
But, again, if his touch could do what it did back there in the hotel, how could I deny myself that kind of pleasure? Did it all feel that way? Was it all that delicious, that mind blowing? Or was it just something about his touch, on this night, in this situation?
I was afraid of the answer. And I was afraid I’d never feel that way again.
Kyle slid his arm around me and led the way to the plane. He tossed his keys to one of the men—they all seemed to know him and they greeted him with respect—gesturing back to the car.
“It’s a rental. Make sure it’s taken care of. And our bags are in the back.”
“Of course, Mr. Callahan,” the man said, moving immediately to do as he was told.
“I’ll never get used to that,” he whispered against my ear, as he turned me and pushed me gently toward the steps that would allow us access to the interior of the plane.
I walked up them slowly, feeling judged, as though they knew I didn’t belong here. But then Kyle was behind me again, his arm sliding around my waist as he guided me to a long, couch-like spot toward the front of the plane.
“Have you ever flown
“Just a week’s worth,” he said. “Anything more you might need, we’ll buy in Boston.”
I nodded, but I didn’t take anything out of the bag. I wanted my things. I didn’t want to feel like I was dependent on him for more than I already was.
The last thing I grabbed was a photograph of my family that was tucked into a book in my nightstand. Shoving it into my shoulder bag, I turned to Kyle.
“Ready.”
He held out his hand, and I thought I might blush again. The memory of his touch was still there, this pulsing in my clit and this sense of fullness inside of me…I didn’t know what to do with it. I was overwhelmed with shame and excitement all at the same time. It was as if I’d done something wrong, but it was so much fun I wanted to do it again.
And again and again…
I walked toward him but didn’t take his hand. He slid it over my shoulder as he followed me out the door, resting his hand against the small of my back and that was worse, somehow. There was a rented Cadillac Escalade waiting for us at the curb. It was late, an hour or two until dawn. I should have been exhausted, but I was energized with a nervousness that made my hands shake and my knees knock. Kyle helped me into the passenger seat before slinging my bag into the back with his and climbing behind the wheel. It wasn’t but a few minutes before we pulled through the gates of a private airstrip just outside the city.
“You have a jet?”
“It belongs to Callahan Industries, my father’s side business.”
I just nodded, my eyes drawn to the slim lines of the jet and the model-perfect people standing beside the steps leading into the interior. They must have been the pilot and the rest of the crew. There were two men, both impossibly handsome and well coifed despite the hour, and a woman who filled out her skimpy uniform the way a woman was supposed to fill out a tight, little outfit like that. She made me feel frumpy in my jeans.
Kyle helped me out of the car, his eyes moving over my face for a long second.
“I’m sorry for the rush. Hopefully things will settle down in a day or two.”
I wanted to say that things could rush for as long as they needed to. This situation—whatever it was—had saved me from having to do something I knew was coming, but was hoping I could avoid. I knew he’d expect me to sleep with him. But I…I barely knew him. How could I give him something I hadn’t given the boy I dated for three years in high school, or the man I was briefly engaged to after a two-year relationship in college?
But, again, if his touch could do what it did back there in the hotel, how could I deny myself that kind of pleasure? Did it all feel that way? Was it all that delicious, that mind blowing? Or was it just something about his touch, on this night, in this situation?
I was afraid of the answer. And I was afraid I’d never feel that way again.
Kyle slid his arm around me and led the way to the plane. He tossed his keys to one of the men—they all seemed to know him and they greeted him with respect—gesturing back to the car.
“It’s a rental. Make sure it’s taken care of. And our bags are in the back.”
“Of course, Mr. Callahan,” the man said, moving immediately to do as he was told.
“I’ll never get used to that,” he whispered against my ear, as he turned me and pushed me gently toward the steps that would allow us access to the interior of the plane.
I walked up them slowly, feeling judged, as though they knew I didn’t belong here. But then Kyle was behind me again, his arm sliding around my waist as he guided me to a long, couch-like spot toward the front of the plane.
“Have you ever flown
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