“Want—need—more—there—aaaahhh!”
He hits that spot inside me just right, and my world explodes in a Technicolor landscape of glory. My inner walls clench hard around his fingers while he teases and coaxes me higher and harder. “That’s it, beautiful. Come for me. Come all over me.”
My head is thrown back against the crude headboard, my eyes squeezed shut, all of me basking in the glory of this orgasm to end all orgasms.
And just with his fingers tonight.
The thought makes a mini climax erupt too. “God,Dylan.”
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
All my muscles give at once, the tension leaving me and theoh God, I’m nakedfeelings taking over.
Still.
For all the times he’s seen me naked, Istillcan’t shut down that fucking voice.
Dammit.
I probably deserve the bad feelings, though, considering he’s gazing at me with the kind of adoration I usually only see in the movies.
The kind that I’ve never thought could be real.
I move to pull my shirt down, but even in the dim light, he knows what I’m doing, and he catches my chin in his hand. I smell my own orgasm on his fingers.
“Youarebeautiful,” he says quietly. “You’re kind. You’re funny. You’re smart. You’re strong. And you’re beautiful. Exactly as you are. Anyone who doesn’t see it isn’t someone who deserves you.”
“Stop,” I whisper, the word clogging my throat.
“Front-row seat here,” he whispers back. “You’re fucking beautiful. And for the record, Tavi Lightly, I want to be the man who gets to spend the rest of your time here sneaking into that church basement helping you make chocolates. I want to be the man you ride along with on horrible plumbing jobs. I want to be the man you call when your family is driving you crazy and the man you call when you need help. But most of all, I want to be the man who deserves you.”
Tell him,my conscience screams.Trust him. Let him in.“I—” I start, and then I hear it.
The click.
The telltale sound of someone sneaking out of my bedroom.
Usually, it’s me making that noise.
But tonight—
“Stay,” Dylan orders.
He doesn’t leap off the bed.
Instead, he leapsontoit, expertly avoiding my fake bum ankle, and peers over my privacy screen. “Oh fuck,” he whispers. “Tavi, I think we have a problem.”
Chapter 30
Dylan
There are very few things I know for certain these days.
Used to be, I knew I used to be a fuckup, I’d turned my life around, and I had onebestfriend, severalgoodfriends, and a family that half accepted me and half rejected me. That was all on me, and I’d made peace with a lot of it.
I knew I helped people by going into the trades and being on call twenty-four seven.
I knew I owed my mom for sticking by me during my shithead years.
