She held it tight.
And waited for what came next.
Closure
Dylan
Dylan was half-sprawled across the hotel bed, one arm behind his head, the other holding his phone like it might slip from his grip if he exhaled too hard. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the screen since she sent that first message.
I keep thinking about what you said earlier.
About my mouth.
…I think you’d like what it’s been thinking about too.
He’d practically groaned out loud. His cock had stirred instantly, twitching under the thin sheet. He hadn’t even tried to hide his reaction— he was alone, and her words lit him up like a live wire.
But her last text?
I don’t think I’m ready for a fridge yet…
But I think about your bedroom. A lot.
Fuck.
He sat up, running a hand through his damp hair. “Jesus, Ali,” he muttered, the smile tugging at his mouth sharp and slow. His whole body felt like it was vibrating with want.
She didn’t even know what she was doing to him.
Or maybe she did.
She was teasing him in the sweetest, shyest damn way— and it made him want her even more. Not just to touch her or bury himself inside her again. But to know her now. All the ways she’d changed. All the ways she hadn’t.
He stared at her words again.
Your bedroom.
It knocked the air out of him a little.
Because that— that was a line. A soft one. Careful. But real. And honest. And she’d sent it anyway.
He swiped open his keyboard and started typing, slow and deliberate.
Dylan:
You just say when, babe. The bed’s big. The sheets are soft. And I promise— No one will hear you but me.
He hesitated.
Then added:
I’ve been thinking about your mouth too. Ever since you wrapped it around my name last night.
He stared at that line, then hit send before he could overthink it. Because she deserved to know— he hadn’t stopped thinking about her either.
And if she was really ready for more?
He was already halfway gone.
