Free Reign (The Syndicate: Crime and Passion Book 2) by Kaye Blue Page A

warmth in my chest at the thought that he had.
    I’d carefully considered my outfit today like always and had settled on a light blue shirt dress that hit midcalf. It was a little informal, but I didn’t expect more visitors today, and for what I had planned for the day, it would do. I’d brushed my hair down and decided to let it fly wild and untamed today and then, after I slipped my feet into nude flats, I headed downstairs.
    As I made my way down the staircase, I tried to focus on what was to come, anticipate what it would be like to face him after last night, wondered how things would change, thought of when I might have him again.
    When I reached the kitchen, I paused long enough to have my morning glass of juice and then began preparing breakfast.
    As I cracked eggs, I couldn’t help but think of my mother. My sister and I had done this countless times, cracked thousands of eggs in this kitchen, done countless other little things to prepare us for the life that was ahead of us.
    I’d always paid attention, wanting to show my mother I was worthwhile, that she hadn’t made a mistake in taking us in. Trying to prove I belonged, but I’d never really thought this would be my reality.
    Yet here I was, and I was falling into the role easily, and worse, I was enjoying it.
    Enjoying him.
    “Something smells delicious.”
    I smiled at the sound of his deep, melodic voice, but it was only when I had cleared the expression off my face as best I could that I turned to look at him. It was silly I didn’t want him to see how happy I was he was here, but I felt shy now, vulnerable, and felt an urgent need to try to protect myself, even if only from the emotions that crashed through me.
    The sunlight filtering through the French doors hit him and illuminated him. He looked amazing as he had every time I’d seen him, and my breath again hitched.
    I blinked and looked away quickly and went back to cutting toast on the diagonal.
    Though I didn’t look, I still listened to the sound of his approaching footsteps, the uncharacteristic loafers he wore banging against the hardwood floor.
    “I love toast,” he said as he took the plate I held from my grasp. “Bacon! Eggs! Awesome,” he said.
    Then he looked to me, his brown eyes dancing with delight.
    “You made this for me?” he asked.
    I nodded faintly, his enthusiasm for something so small as breakfast making me blush. That blush deepened when I caught his eye, saw the way he looked at me like I was breakfast. He sat the plate down quickly and then brushed his lips against mine, soft at first, then harder. I opened to his touch, had reached up to curl my fingers in the hair at the base of his neck before I could blink.
    He slipped his tongue between my lips, kissed me until I was breathless. Then he broke the kiss and stared down at me.
    “I can’t remember the last time I had breakfast like this,” he said with a wicked smile. “Thanks!”
    He smacked a wet kiss against my cheek and then turned and walked toward the dining table, munching on a piece of bacon as he went.
    How did he do that, go from passionate to playful in a moment, while I stood there, barely able to force breath out of my lungs and keep myself from begging him to fuck me right here?
    I swallowed, turned away, and gripped the edge of the counter, trying to regain my balance, and listened as he ate happily.
    “You gonna join me?” he asked between bites.
    I shook my head. “No. I’m not hungry.”
    “Then just sit with me,” he said.
    My elation at those words, at the fact that he seemed to want my company was almost too much to contain, but I breathed deep and then turned, walked to the kitchen table, and sat, not realizing I’d chosen the chair closest to him until I was seated and not even remotely tempted to move.
    We sat in silence, him eating, me watching. After a moment, I said tentatively, “Busy day?”
    He didn’t even slow down. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
    Not a helpful