“Fast asleep,” I whisper.
And this time, there’s no hesitation. No teasing slowness. Dylan’s lips press hard against mine, deepening our kiss and the want in my core.
“Fuck,” he groans into my mouth, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers skating down my spine. “You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are.”
His hands roam from my waist to my ass, gripping me like he’s afraid I might vanish. My fingers drag down his broad shoulders, over every hard line of muscle, before finding the buckle of his belt. I can feel him, thick and hard against me, and the thought of how ready he is so quickly makes me dizzy with want. I stroke the hard length of him through the denim, and my core coils tight. This man has spent the last month infuriating me with his arrogance, his walls, his refusal to admit he made a mistake buying Bill’s horses. The way he carries the weight ofthe world on those shoulders like no one else could possibly help him.
But he’s also the man who listened without judgment when I opened up about my past. Who coaxed me down from the roof of my trailer and made me hot cocoa. Who is kind and attentive to Madison, showing her how to play football, always listening when she speaks. Dylan has folded us into his family and this ranch like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like it’s no big deal—when really, it’s everything.
And now? Now I ache for his touch. For the heat of his mouth and the rough slide of his hands on my bare skin. It feels like we’ve been circling this moment forever, like every lingering look and almost-kiss has been leading to this. My body is humming, pulsing with need. And nothing is going to stop us this time.
My hands fumble with the button of his jeans just as Dylan drops to his knees, tugging down the straps of my dress until my breasts spill free into the cool air of the barn. His eyes blaze and a second later, his tongue flicks over one nipple, swirling, teasing, until I arch into him.
“Dylan,” I gasp.
He stands, lips meeting mine again in a kiss that steals the air from my lungs. Then his arms sweep beneath me, lifting me like I weigh nothing. My legs wrap around his waist as he carries me to the workbench and sets me down. Our clothes are gone in a blur of tugging hands and frantic kisses. Our bodies press together, hot skin on hot skin. I reach for his rock-hard length, sliding my hand all the way down, loving the way it makes Dylan growl. His beard scrapes deliciously along my collarbone as he kisses his way down to my breasts, tongue and teeth driving me wild. Then his fingers slide between my legs and he groans.
“Is this for me?” he asks, touching my slick heat.
“Yes,” I breathe, hips bucking toward him.
“Lie back,” he rasps.
Every inch of me is humming as I lie across the bench. His lips blaze a trail over my breasts. His tongue circles my nipples, biting and nipping as strong hands slide over my legs, pushing my thighs wide. His hand never leaves my center, cupping me, fingers stroking in teasing circles that drive me to the brink. A thick finger slides into me, pumping in and out. I gasp again, my body tightening, every nerve sparking.
“Dylan,” I cry out.
His mouth lingers on my nipple before he pulls back, his hand still working me into a frenzy, firm and confident. “Open your eyes. I want to see you when you come.”
My gaze locks on the dark pools of his eyes as his fingers continue to rub slow, urgent circles over my clit. Heat coils tighter, sharper, winding deep in my core. His dick is hard and ready and so close. My entire body aches for him, my hips tilting toward the thick length I’m desperate to feel buried inside me.
He slides a second finger inside me and I almost beg for him to fuck me. But the intensity is building fast. Every muscle is tight and vibrating with need. I’m teetering on the edge.
So close.
Then his thumb shifts the pressure and it’s more than I can take. My breathing is ragged, his name is on my lips, and his hands—his strong, unrelenting hands—are touching everywhere, winding me tighter and tighter. His dick moves closer. He’s right there at my opening and fuck if it isn’t enough to shove me over the edge. With a final gasp, I shatter. My thighs tremble, my breath stutters, body shuddering. Pleasure crashes through me in deep, rolling waves, leaving me undone. His name spills from my lips in a desperate, gasping plea.
Only then does Dylan move his hands to my hips, dragging me closer to the edge of the bench and to him. His eyes bore into mine. “You sure you want this?”
I glance down at him—so big, so hard. A breathless laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. “Hell yes.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, that cocky, self-assured smirk that so often infuriates me but only fuels the fire right now. Before I can say anything else, I’m reaching for him, legs wrapping around his waist, drawing him close. The heat of his body against mine sends another jolt of desire through me.
He groans asI guide the thick head of his dick to my entrance. His hands grip my hips as he begins to slide slowly inside me. The stretch is… fuck, it’s incredible. It’s everything I want and need in this second. Intense in a way that steals the air from my lungs. I cry out, my head falling back as he fills me inch by inch.
“Fuck, Izzy,” Dylan says, voice strained as he pushes all the way in.
The fullness is overwhelming, quickly melting into pleasure as he starts to move, slow and steady. Each thrust sends another spark of electricity shooting through me until I’m clinging to him, nails digging into his shoulders, until all that exists is this moment between us.
He leans forward, his beard scratching my cheek as he growls in my ear, “You feel so fucking good.”
I don’t answer, can’t answer, because all I can focus on is the way his body moves against mine, the way every thrust is hitting just the right spot. My nails rake down his back, and he groans again, his hips snapping harder, the rhythm picking up, the bench creaking beneath us. Tension builds low in my belly, sharp and insistent. I think I’m going to come again. What the hell? That’s never happened before. My heart is pounding, my breath ragged.
And still, a thought presses in. Not just this hot need, but something deeper. And God, I want to trust that feeling. Trust this man. But I’ve been burned before. Left to pick up the piecesfor myself and Mad. And Dylan? He might be all steady hands and scorching heat, but I still don’t know if he’s the man who stays. All I know is that no one has ever touched me like this, wanted me like this, made me feel this way. Dylan Sullivan knows exactly how to ruin me.
THIRTY-ONE
DYLAN
