“Chocolate ice cream.” His lips turned up in a sexy grin. “With the brownie bites.”
I attacked his mouth with a bruising kiss, blinded with lust and affection that he remembered my favorite ice cream. Being with someone I’d known for my entire life was both exhilarating and comforting. Knowing him on this intimate level was my every dream come true, but I wanted more. A lot more.
“You are so getting laid, Matthews.” I leaned in to bite his lip but flinched when he pulled away.
“Did I say something wrong?” I shrank back, the sexy spell between us now broken and my rush of excitement deflated.
“No, sweet girl.” He pecked my lips, cupping my cheek before leaning his forehead on mine. “I know this sounds crazy after everything but, I don’t want to … rush that.”
“Rush that?” I squinted at Dylan as I sat up on his lap. On the night of my birthday, only a couple of weeks ago, his mouth and hands had been everywhere. My skin wore the bruises of his touch and his teeth, only fading to yellow patches a week ago. I’d had zero complaints at how far we’d come and how fast, but why was he pumping the brakes now?
“Have you ever done that before? Gone further than you have with me?”
Something about his tone infuriated me. Yes, there was an age difference, but even before we were together, Dylan had never treated me like a child. That was … until this moment.
“What does that matter?” I scoffed and climbed off of his lap. “Right, because I’m a kid.”
“Patricia,” he began with a raised brow. “Why I’m asking doesn’t have anything to do with you being a kid. You haven’t been a kid in my eyes for … quite a long time.” He laughed to himself. “You should know that, at least.”
“But you don’t want to have sex with me?”
His eyes widened as he studied my face as if I’d lapsed into a foreign language. “Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to take you into my bedroom and make love to you until we both pass out. If you haven’t, I need to make sure that when we do, it’s perfect. That’s a big deal to me.”
He leaned over and threaded his fingers into my hair, pulling my face toward his. I felt the burn of his eyes until I met his gaze.
“You and I … we’re intense. We feel a lot, and we’ve gone fast, but I won’t rush that.”
My eyes darted from his, tears still scratching my throat from what felt a lot like a rejection.
“I’m not naïve. I know you’ve had other girls here and—”
“They weren’t you. No one is you. And while I can’t keep my hands off of you most days, I want to wait, for that. And it doesn’t mean you’re just a kid or that I care about you less. I care about you more, so much more.” He lifted me back onto his lap. “Okay?” He kissed my cheek, peppering kisses down to my ear and sucking on my lobe until I let out a giggle.
I nodded, but couldn’t shake the sting. I was ready for everything with Dylan, and although I believed that I meant more to him than anyone who’d come before me, it still felt as if he was keeping me on a long leash. I’d loved him for most of my life, and I was ready to give him everything now. I wanted it just as much as I wanted to tell my family about us.
Being away from Dylan for all that time had been awful but being held back was proving to be even worse.
11
PJ
Two weeks later
“I could get used to this.”Dylan had a wicked glint in his eyes as he shut his front door behind us.
“Used to what?” I peered up at him from where he’d pinned me against the wall. I was sick to my stomach of being “used to” checking our driveway to see if my parents were home and then checking the windows to see if they were looking outside. Going out to dinner and having someone see us was on par with being seen at his house. Even when my parents weren’t around to avoid, we still had to sneak around.
We’d had a beautiful dinner at a great restaurant—over the bridge in New Jersey—and Dylan asked me to come over after. My curfew hadn’t been an issue since turning eighteen, but there was no freedom to it if Dylan had to sneak me back across the street in the wee hours of the morning. Any day, we’d get caught. The maddening anticipation of the other shoe finally dropping had me almost wishing for it.
After almost a month of this annoying game, “becoming used to” was one inch away from becoming “had enough.”
“I like you in my house.” Dylan plopped onto the couch and pulled me onto his lap. I found it difficult to hold onto my irritation when he looked at me like that. His molten eyes would rake over my body, and I’d forget about this secret game we needed to play only to have dinner together.
“You on my lap doesn’t suck either.” He shifted under me and called my attention to exactly how much he liked it.
“That’s a very caveman thing to say.” I lolled my head to the side, my eyes fluttering when he sucked my earlobe into his mouth.
“Because I like you all to myself?” His hands slid under my shirt, his fingers tracing the outline of my bra before pulling it down and cupping my breasts. A shiver ran through me, along with the sting of equating “all to himself” with “where no one can see us.” It reminded me of how thin my patience was, but being with Dylan was so damn good that I forced myself not to care. Or at least forced myself topretendnot to care.
