Kyle comforted Aiysha the best way he knew how, keeping everything light, keeping his distance, making sure no boundaries got crossed. Truth be told, he could have anyone he wanted at this point. He'd proven that over and over. Hell, just a few hours ago he'd had Isabeau Delacroix on her knees in front of him, her elegant composure completely shattered as she worked him over with her mouth.
But there was something about this moment that made him deeply uncomfortable in a way those other encounters never had.
Kyle couldn't quite understand it. Why was he Aiysha's designated therapist? When had he become the person she came to for emotional support? He wasn't qualified for this. Wasn't built for handling someone else's marriage problems while sitting shirtless in his apartment with a woman who'd just kissed him.
The old saying ran through his head: "A shoulder to cry on is a cock to ride on." And that had nearly happened. Would have happened if Kyle hadn't stopped it.
