Indy
Dylan grabbed my hand and all but dragged me to the side door. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. He stomped up the steps, ripped it open and then marched down the hall while I trailed silently in his wake. But then he zagged and pulled me into a different room and slammed the door closed behind me then twisted the lock with a flourish. “Why settle for a bathroom when you can have a whole bedroom?”
Anticipation sang through my bloodstream as my eyes bounced around the room—from the nondescript bed to the nightstand to the small dresser and settled on Dylan who stood in front of the door with a hooded and intent stare. All of him completely focused on me.
An insane urge to giggle bubbled up inside me. I was so freaking giddy I guess. I couldn’t believe I was really standing here with him. Couldn’t believe that he was seeing me. Finally seeing me as a woman. An adult. An equal.
And a desirable woman.
I know I should call him on his shit—ask him why he’d disappeared on me for over a week. But he was standing there looking all grrr and just…
This was my chance.
My chance to be with him.
“You still with me?” he asked softly. “Or did you change your mind?”
I shook my head. Changed my mind? Like hell. I was finally exactly where I wanted to be.
And to prove it, I backed away from him and sat down on the edge of the bed. Toeing off heels, I left them on the floor and then wiggled back on the bed. My legs came up on the bed and the organza material fell away, leaving me exposed from high on my thigh down.
Dylan closed his eyes briefly and rumbled a growl.
And then he was moving.
I held my breath as he prowled toward me and all but jumped up on the bed, crawling up the length, and then rested with his arms bracketing me on either side while his legs nestled between mine.
“You still with me, gorgeous?” He leaned down and nuzzled my jaw then kissed his way over to my lips.
“Yes,” I whispered, trying and failing to follow his lips. I wanted to feel them on mine again.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured. “Couldn’t take my eyes off of you. Love you like this. But I love you all rumpled and covered in paint too.”
Tears blurred my vision for a second, and I shook my head. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
“Just taking a mental picture. Because this is the only thing I want to see when I close my eyes—you all spread on a pillow looking up at me like that. I feel like a fucking king right now, knowing that I put that look in your eyes. Fuck. You’re so fucking perfect.”
And then he was kissing me. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I closed my eyes against them. I didn’t want to ruin the moment. It was just so much emotion. Everything I’d wanted was finally happening. And I was half afraid he was going to freak out and stop.
But Dylan knew me.
“These the happy kind, yeah?” he asked as he pressed kisses on the side of my mouth, then my cheek, and finally followed the dewy trail down my neck.
“Yes,” I moaned. “Please don’t stop.”
“Never, sweetheart. I finally got you where I want you. Never gonna let you go now.”
He nudged my straps down, pulling at the fabric until I felt a whoosh against my aching nipples.
“Perfect,” he murmured. “So fucking perfect.” He gave a happy little hum and then ducked down and nuzzled my breast with his lips. The stubble on his chin rasped against my skin, and I whimpered even as I arched into his mouth.
I wanted to feel him. I wanted to feel everything.
He flicked his tongue over my aching tip then suckled it deep into his mouth, pulling insistently. I almost came right then. Everything inside me was so keyed up. And despite my protestations of “experience” I’d had only one lover who’d been so inept I hadn’t had an orgasm with him—before, during,orafter. It’d been a wham, bam, whoops it’s over, ma’am.
But with Dylan. It was like everything was heightened. Everything was sharper.
More.
