Logically I knew Dylan was the one in front of me, not Blake, but my brother’s face was all I saw as the years of violence surged to the surface.
"Brooklyn Lawson!" There was command in his voice, but it wasn't as shouty as before. "I will never hurt you, baby. Come back to me. Let go of whatever has you, and get your ass back to me."
His use of the wordbabywas the very shock I needed to break myself out of the cycle of abuse and fear I'd found myself in. And as I shook my head, Dylan's face swam back into view, his forehead creased in concern as his gaze ran over my face.
"Shit, sorry," I cried, trying to pull away so I could hide from him. His grip, while not hurting me, didn't loosen as he held me trapped between his huge hands.
"What just happened?" Again, he sounded calm, but there was a brewing storm deep in his eyes.
Since I was still off-kilter, I found myself spilling out information that I never should have given him. "I’ve spent so many years taking his abuse and never speaking up, and I knew if I ever broke and fought back in any way, that he would probably kill me afterward. Then kill anyone I loved, too. I think my body went into shock because I don't usually get confrontational, and... it was survival mode after that."
"Who?" Dylan snapped, and as his fingers flexed on my cheeks, I flinched. He gentled his hold immediately before he dropped his hands. He didn't let me get away though, one arm sweeping around my waist in a loose hold. I didn't feel trapped, but I also couldn't have gotten away easily.
"No one," I said. "Not worth you worrying about. I'm fine. I shouldn't have told you that."
Fucking fuck. What had I been thinking spilling all that shit? I had to get it together because when Blake strolled back into my life, he was not going to accept this fractured version of me who had forgotten the rules.
"Brooke, you need to tell me now. I can find out, of course—as you pointed out, I have a lot of information at my hands—but I would prefer it came from you."
If he’d been wearing a shirt, I would have grabbed it at this point. As it was, my hands tried to wrap around his biceps, but they only made it about a quarter of the way around.
"If you care about me at all, Dylan, you'll let this go. I promise, it's no drama you want part of."
His eyes drilled into me with their intensity, and I knew there was nothing in this world that could stop him from looking into this now. Nothing.
Except maybe... I pushed myself up, slamming my lips against his. Opening my mouth, I sucked his lip in and bit down on it gently. "Brooke," he rumbled, and I groaned as his taste flooded my mouth.
"Dylan, it's been so long," I said, pressing myself harder against him. He still only wore sweats, and they were doing absolutely nothing to hide his growing erection. Now that I'd settled on this new plan of action to distract him, I was all on board with seeing that fucking amazing cock again.
"We haven't finished talking," he said, but he wasn't pushing me away. If anything, his hands dragged me closer, and when I opened my mouth to him, his tongue clashed with mine. Dylan took control of the kiss, as per usual. He was dominating, and what should have scared me didn't when it came to this man.
"Give me one more night," I said when he pulled away, and I caught my breath. "I wasn't done either, and it's been a long six weeks."
Dylan knew what I was doing, but he could also hear the truth in my words. This might be a convenient distraction, but it was also something I wanted with a desperation that took my breath away.
There was a long pause, and I prayed he would give me a few hours escape from the world. From my world.
The green in his eyes turned darker, and in a single second, he’d made his decision. I was hauled up into his chest, and we were kissing. I wrapped my legs around his waist and ground against his hard cock.
"Brooke—" he tried to protest, pulling his lips from mine, even as his arms banded tighter around me. I didn't give him a chance to think any harder about it, though. I badly didn't want him chasing that discussion about my abusive older brother, but more than that, I badly wantedDylan.
I'd been fucking kidding myself that I could just cut him out of my life. The idea that I could simply block his number and never look back? Total joke. I'd been weakening just from seeing him in the glossy magazines that Mary liked to read over breakfast. Seeing him here at camp had all but broken my resolve entirely.
Then he had to go and tell me that Iwasn'tjust a booty call? I mean, he was full of shit; that's exactly what we'd been. But maybe,maybe... he wanted more. Like I did.
"Dylan, please," I breathed against his lips. "Please, I need you. Ineedto feel you inside me; don't make me beg..." Or not any more than I already was. Holy hell, I was already soaking and hot, aching for him.
He didn't make me plead anymore, carrying me through to his bedroom in just a few long strides, then dropping me onto his bouncy mattress. His body blanketed mine, and for a moment my entire world was Dylan's kisses. His lips claimed every single fraction of mine, his tongue tangling in my mouth and utterly stealing my breath from my lungs.
Kissing Dylan always killed me. He kissed like he was in love, and despite knowing it was an illusion, a figment of my own imagination, I couldn't convince my heart.
I rolled my hips against him, feeling his huge, hard length crushed against my core. Holy hell, Dylan Grant was blessed in the pants department. I didn't need experience to know that much wasn't the norm.
He knew what I wanted. He needed it just as much as I did. So in no time at all, he'd stripped me out of my seriously unsexy—yet practical—camp clothes.
"Brooke," he murmured, kissing his way down my body with worshipping lips. It was barely even dusk, and the lights were all on. For the first time, he could seeallof me.
I cringed when he paused over my left ribs. After almost a week at camp, I still had lingering marks from Blake’s parting gift to me before he left town, not to mention Jonnie’s boot to my side.
