"Okay, let's get some things straight, Dylan," I announced, still covering my eyes with my hands. It seemed stupid, talking to him like this, but it was actually helping my confidence. "Ben is not my boyfriend. I wasn't fucking flirting with those douchebags earlier. And you—" I broke off, my mouth going dry as I felt him standing way too damn close. Holy hell, I couldfeelhis heat right in front of me. If I reached out, I'd probably touch his—
"Why are you covering your eyes, Brooke?" he asked when I didn't continue with my mini-rant. "You've seen my dick plenty of times before. Hell, you had no problem showing me exactly how much youlovedmy dick in the back of that limo the night we met... Remember that,Serena?" He brushed a lock of my messy blonde hair over my shoulder, his fingertips grazing my neck in a way that made me tremble. But he was just making a point. That much was clear by the way he’d called meSerena.
Fucking hell, why'd I have to lie to him all those months ago?
Oh yeah, 'cause I wanted hot, anonymous sex with the sexiest man alive. I just hadn't expected him to want to see me again—or for me to stupidly fall for him.
"Can you put some pants on or something?" I pleaded, pressing my hands tighter over my eyes in an effort not to look. Because if I looked... I was going to want to do a whole lot more. Andmorewas firmly off the table right now.
Dylan didn't do as I asked. He just scoffed a small laugh. "Why? You scared my dick will seduce you, Brooke?"
Yes. "No."
"So what's the problem? We've both done a whole lot more than justseeeach other naked, so why act like a blushing virgin now?"
My whole body stiffened with tension. Did he know? No. No, of course not. He'd have said something at the time... and seeing as we'd been in the shower with nothing but soft candlelight illuminating the room, all theevidencehad been easily washed away. No, Dylan had no clue he'd been my first—and only—lover.
"This is stupid," I announced, spinning around to give him my back. Yeah, I felt dumb as crap with my hands over my eyes, but I also didn't trust myself not to crumble like wet paper if I saw him all naked and sexy and in my personal space. "I'm going for a walk."
I made it all of half a step before his arm snaked around my waist and yanked me back against him. Every damn inch of him. My clothes may as well have been nonexistent for how aware of him I was.
"I think it's about time we talked things out, don't you?" Dylan's lips were so close to my ear that his breath fanned my skin, and I couldn't hide the shudder of arousal that rolled through me. Six weeks was a long-ass time when I had gotten used to seeing him every two weeks.
But still... I gritted my teeth and shook my head. I couldn't forget the way he'd lit up when Riley called him that night, and I refused to put myself on the line to have my heart broken. No way. I needed to get the fuck out of this situation before I forgot my resolve completely.
"Dylan," I snapped, peeling his fingers off my stomach where he held me against him. "I don't want to talk while you're naked. Shower or whatever; I'm going for a walk."
This time I moved faster, rushing out of the cabin and down the short flight of stairs to the dirt path. I thought I had made a clean break, I really did. But a second later I found myself swept up in a tight hold and tossed over a broad, dark shoulder. A naked shoulder.
"Dylan!" I shrieked. "What the fuck? You're naked!"
He just snorted a laugh and jogged back up the steps. I heard a thump as he kicked the door open, then he strode through with me hanging limp over his shoulder like a prize buck he'd just shot.
"No one is out here, Brooke," he replied with an edge of amusement. "Even if they were, it'd be their own fucking fault for spying on us."
He dropped me down on the couch, then mercifully reached for his sweatpants. Not before I got a good eyeful of hiseverything, though.
Groan. Why did I have to be so goddamn dick-drunk on Dylan Playboy Grant? Why couldn't I have met some nice, normal,availableguy that night?
"This alpha-male behavior isn't cute, Dylan," I lied, licking my suddenly bone-dry lips. "You can't just pick me up and carry me around when I don't do what you want."
His brows quirked up as he sat down on the couch beside me, hooking his ankle up on his opposite knee, casual as all fuck. "Can't I? I'm pretty sure I can, Brooklyn. Who's going to tell me off?"
My lips parted in outrage, but he wasn't bluffing. Heownedthe camp, there was no higher authority than Dylan Grant. I certainly couldn't see any of the other guides or campers calling him on his behavior, and I wasn't exactly going to run crying to my big brother...
Fucking hell. Blake. That was a pit of darkness Ididn'twant in my brain right now.
"Look," Dylan continued with a heavy sigh. "We're overdue a proper conversation, don't you think?"
My brow wrinkled, and the last remaining scrap of my stubborn pride wiggled its way to the surface. "About what, Dylan? I lied about my name, so what? That's not exactly anything new. People use fake IDs all the time. I'm sorry I never told you, but, you know..." I gave an awkward shrug and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "People make mistakes."
His eyes locked with mine, and I was helpless to look away. Dammit.
"I'm not talking about the fact that you lied about your name or yourage, although that could have gotten me into a whole world of shit if people had found out I was fucking a seventeen-year-old. Thanks for that,Brooklyn." I cringed, but he continued. "I was talking about the fact that you just walked out of the hotel that night, didn't even say goodbye, then dropped off the fucking earth. You didn't take my calls or return my texts."
A small part of me was quietly shocked—and delighted—to hear he'd been trying to contact me.
"I'm sorry," I whispered and bit my lip anxiously.
