He said nothing for a moment, just dipped his face to mine and kissed my lips ever so softly. Dylan had the most incredible way of kissing me like he actuallycared. Sometimes I would close my eyes and imagine for a moment that he was in love with me for real. That we were an actual couple...
Yeah, I was a delusional twit and clearly a masochist to torture myself with an impossibility like that.
"I get that," he murmured, his lips moving to my ear and his teeth teasing my earlobe. "Maybe I can help you forget for a few hours."
I skated my hands up his chiseled sides bringing them to his face to cup his rough, stubbled jaw. "I'm counting on it, Dylan."
He huffed a short laugh but was all too eager to deliver on that offer. His lips captured mine once more, and his hips moved between my legs. Within moments, every thought of my brother was erased from my mind. All that mattered was the gorgeous man fucking me like I was the only woman on earth.
Dylan seemed determined to fry every damn braincell in my head, and when he eventually came all over my tits, I'd lost count of the number of orgasms he'd given me.
For a long time, we just lay there beside each other in the darkness, our chests heaving and our breathing rough. Usually, that was it, I’d clean up and kiss Dylan goodbye with promises to see him again next time he was in town, but this time was different. When I left the hotel room tonight, that'd be it.
Because of that, I found myself reluctant to move. I didn't even want to speak for fear of breaking the bubble of peace and calm we coexisted inside.
"You know," Dylan said in a husky, sleep-thickened voice, "if you want my help..." He trailed off, but I knew what he was talking about. His fingertip traced down my side, and a dull ache radiated through my skin. Even with the lights off, my bruising must be dark enough for him to see against my chalk-white skin. I’d noticed he'd been gentler than usual, but had ignored it when he'd said nothing sooner.
I shook my head, letting out a sigh. "You did help, Dylan," I whispered, my voice edged with sadness. "I should go." I started to sit up, gathering the sheet around my body, but he caught my wrist to stall me.
"Serena, say a name and I can make sure whoever did this pays dearly." His tone was low and threatening, sending a shiver of unexpected excitement through me. I briefly entertained the possibility of accepting his offer, of having him make Blakepay. But just as quickly, I dismissed it. Unless Dylan was willing to kill my brother—and I doubted he was—then it'd only make my situation worse in the long run.
As I turned to look back at him, just a shadowed figure reclining against the hotel sheets like an art piece, a wave of desperation and dread rolled over me. I was doomed, and there was nothing my high-profile booty call could or would be able to do about it. Better to cut my losses and walk away with my dignity intact.
"Nah, I've got it handled," I told him with an easy laugh. "But thanks."
He released my wrist almost reluctantly, and I quickly gathered my discarded clothes before I scurried to the bathroom to wash up. I needed to scrub every inch of skin and wash my hair thoroughly before I could return home. The last thing I needed was for Blake to smell another man's cologne on my hair at breakfast or some shit. I didn't hate livingthatmuch.
The whole time I cleaned up, though, I couldn't stop the nagging anxiety in my belly. It felt so anticlimactic to just walk away and never look back. So empty and unfinished. Stepping out of the bathroom again, I had the most overwhelming desire to tell the truth, to confess that I wasn't, in fact, twenty-one-year-old Serena Michaels from New York.
"Hey, Dylan?" My voice was hesitant as I paused in the doorway. The light from the bathroom at my back filled the room, but now that I was dressed again, I wasn't worried.
He looked up at me from where he sat on the end of the bed, buttoning his dress shirt over that sharply muscled body of his. Fuck, he was gorgeous.
"Yes, Serena?" He quirked a brow at me, his green eyes sparking with curiosity.
I drew a deep breath, working up my courage. Was I really going to do this? How was he going to react? I knew my brother had some business dealings with the Delta-Huntley Group, but I also suspected he wasn't on the most cordial terms with them.
"I need to tell you something," I started to say, my heart racing.
He waited patiently for me to continue, but before any more words could leave my lips, his phone rang on the nightstand. His brow furrowed, and he raised a finger to me, indicating I should wait a second as he grabbed the phone and checked the caller ID.
"Sorry." He shot me an apologetic glance. "Just give me two seconds; I have to take this." He tapped the answer-call button without waiting for me to reply and brought it to his ear with a faint smile. "Riley, what's up?"
My heart sank, and a wave of disappointment washed over me. That, right there. That was the biggest reason I was walking away from Dylan tonight. In the months we’d been sleeping together, we’d managed to have the odd conversation or two—shocking, right?—and he often mentioned his best friends. Especially Riley. The way he spoke about her… only an idiot would miss the obvious deeper feelings he held for the Delta princess. And I was falling way too hard for a guy who only used me for sex while probably completely in love with someone else.
Dylan indicated again for me to wait, then stepped out onto the small balcony to take his call in privacy, but I was on the verge of tears before he’d even closed the sliding door. The second he’d turned his back to me, I grabbed my shit and left.
I may be a weak, broken doll, but I still had some shred of dignity left. I wasn't going to throw that away on delusions of a future with Dylan Grant. Nope, his heart belonged to Riley—whether she wanted it or not—and I wasn't woman enough to fight for it.
Tears streamed down my face as I made my way home, planning to block Dylan's number the moment I had my phone in my hands. No more Dylan Grant with the magical dick and multiple orgasms. That was officially the last time I’d get to see my secret lover and soak in everything about him. Everything that turned my insides and brain to mush and made me crave things that were never going to be mine.
He was the dream of the life I’d never live, and it hurt to know that I wouldn’t even have my dreams now. But it needed to be done. I simply had to move on with my life and leave those dreams in the dust.
4
The next six weeks were some of the easiest and hardest of my life. Easy because Blake was gone a lot so I was left alone, but hard because I wasn’t able to go out of the house at all and I knew there was no night with Dylan on the horizon to ease the pain.
I was an addict in need of my fix, but thankfully, deleting and blocking his number really helped with that issue, no matter how many times I wished I could text him one more time.
