“It bought you a one-way ticket to getting ruined against my kitchen counter,” he muttered, dragging his mouth along her jaw.
Ali gasped softly as he nipped her earlobe.
“I missed you,” she said, suddenly quiet again, sincere.
He pulled back just enough to look at her. “Yeah?”
She nodded, biting her lip. “Every day.”
Dylan let out a slow breath, pressing his forehead against hers. “Me too.”
His hands moved to the small of her back, tugging her flush against him.
“I’ve got you for the whole weekend,” he murmured. “And baby, I’m not wasting a single second.”
He kissed her then—slow, deep, and possessive. Like they hadn’t been apart. Like this was their life now. No missed calls. Just them.
Ali sighed into it, arms winding around his neck as he lifted her to sit on the edge of the marble counter.
He pulled back just enough to say, “We’ve got time. No rush.”
But the look in his eyes told her exactly how much hewantedher.
And the way her knees fell open beneath his hands told him she felt the same.
She was already breathless when he kissed down her throat, her skin warm and tasting faintly of coconut and nerves.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned against her collarbone. “You havenoidea what you do to me.”
Her thighs clenched around his waist, pulling him in, her sundress bunched high on her hips now. His hands roamed overher, greedy, reverent—squeezing her hips, dragging his palms up to cup her breasts through the thin fabric.
Ali gasped, arching into his touch.
“You don’t have to hold back,” she whispered, voice shaking but sure. “I don’t want soft right now.”
He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, pupils blown, cheeks flushed.
“Say it baby.”
“I want you to fuck me, Dylan.” Her voice cracked on his name. “Right here.”
It lit something in him—hot and primal.
He reached down, dragging her panties off her thighs and tossing them to the floor, then unbuttoned his jeans with one hand, his other hand already stroking through her slick folds.
“Already so wet for me,” he rasped, thumb circling her clit, watching her hips jolt. “You don’t even know what that does to me.”
She whimpered, hands fisting his shirt.
“You wore that dress for me.”
“Yeah,” she breathed.
“You sat on my stool all smug, knowing I couldn’t touch you yet.”
She nodded, frantic now.
“You thought about me bending you over the counter, didn’t you?”
