I look out his floor-to-ceiling window. “You can see all of Los Angeles from here.”
Dylan stands next to me. “I’ve always loved that part of it. I’ve been here five years, so it’s been like home.”
“You sounded like you wanted to leave it when you were talking earlier.”
“Yeah.” He takes a seat on the bed and pulls me onto his lap. “I’m ready for something a little quieter. Malibu’s more my speed right now.”
“I’m sure you’ve had lots of women up here already,” I tease him.
Okay, sort of tease him. I think I felt more comfortable in Malibu where at least I knew he didn’t spend much time.
He kisses my cheek tenderly as I put my arms around him. “Literally every woman I’ve dated was a temporary distraction,” he says. “From injuries, from stress, from loneliness. I actually didn’t understand love. Annabella was the only woman I was with for more than a few weeks, and like I told you, we were more good friends than anything else. I didn’t know what real love felt like in the least.”
I trace my initials on his chest. “I guess we’re more similar than I realized, Dylan Wild.”
He takes my hand in his and plants a kiss on my palm. “You’ve had to follow an unbelievable road to get where you are. I’d never compare my life to yours. But I guess we aren’t as different as we thought.”
I lean in and kiss him. When things turn passionate, I pull back and look at him for a second, and then I gently press him back against the pillows. He resists me at first—I know he’s not used to giving up control and being vulnerable.
But I persist until he relaxes. Then I lean in and take off his shirt, pants, and shoes.
And boxers.
When I abruptly lean over his waist and put my mouth on him, he calls out my name in surprise.
“Jasalie, you don’t have to…”
I know I don’t have to. That’s one of the things I love about Dylan. He never demands anything from me. And in return, he gives me more love and affection and care than I’ve ever had in my life.
But right now, all I want is his hard length in my mouth. I shush him as I kneel between his legs. I lick him gently at first before I suck hard, and then I continue in a way where I think I’m going to lose my mind with lust.
I normally hate giving a guy head. Loathe it. The joke about women giving blowjobs for no reason other than to shut their boyfriend up? I should have invented that joke.
But when my lips land on the soft, velvety tip of Dylan’s erection, I actually do it because I want to. I want to take him this way. I want him to buck off the bed like he’s doing right now, and I want him to come in my mouth so I can taste him.
He gets high off what we’re doing, so high he’s moaning out my name in between a long string of curse words. And then…
He lets go.
“Christ, Jasalie. God, I’m gonna come—”
He tries to push my head away, but I hang on, and when he comes on my tongue his strangled sounds of bliss nearly send me into orbit.
I keep my eyes trained on his face and as he’s coming down, he gets emotional. He’s shaking and his eyes are filled with sadness.
I pull off of him and crawl up to his chest. He brings me close and kisses my lips.
And I forget where I am. I forget I’m in L.A. and that I said I’d never stay here with him. I forget why I ever said that in the first place. I can’t imagine ever being apart from this man.
“You’re the only woman who likes me as I am, for me,” he whispers.
I widen my eyes like I’m seeing him for the first time. “Do you feel you need to be perfect or no one will love you?”
Dylan tries to shrug off my question, but I take his face in my hands and force him to look at me.
“I don’t know.” He looks down.
“You’re shaking, honey.” I thread my fingers through his hair.
