“Wow. Okay.” He reaches out to stroke my hair. “Are you all right?”
The elevator is suddenly feeling very claustrophobic. “Do you think there’s enough air in here?” I say.
“What? Of course there is. We’re fine, baby. Someone will get the car moving any minute now.”
I take a deep breath. And I realize that he’s right. There is enough air. I’m okay.
I look into Dylan’s dark eyes, and the gold sparkles so brightly I feel like I see all of him. Who he is underneath the fame and the football and everything the world sees. I get to witness this man’s gentleness and tenderness, and I get to feel his love. All that other stuff just fades away.
Before I can stop myself, I take his face in my hands and kiss him. “I hate thinking about the ending,” I say into his mouth.
“Me too. So let’s not think.” His fingers unhook my bra in a second. “I want to be with all of you. Right now. There are no cameras in these elevators—Tim checks all of that crap before I go anywhere. He’s freaking paranoid about everything.”
“I don’t know.” I look up at the elevator panel. “What if they call to us again?”
Dylan’s hot breath on my neck sends chills down my spine.
“Then I guess we’ll answer them. But maybe we’ll be breathless.”
He runs his warm hands over my ribs, pulling up my satin shirt at the same time. When he lifts it over my head, my nipples immediately pucker from the cool breeze of the air-conditioned elevator. Dylan’s gaze is fiery as he notices, and suddenly I’m flat on my back.
“I want you to come so hard you forget you were ever upset with me.” He kisses each of my breasts, and uses his free hand to pull down my jeans at lightning speed.
“I wasn’t up—”
Before I’ve finished speaking, he flips me around to my hands and knees.
Uh-oh.
I’ve never had sex in this position before. I never trusted the guy I was with enough not to see his face.
“Dylan.” My voice is halting.
His hand is between my legs. “I’ll make sure you’re ready, Jasalie. Don’t worry.”
“No, I…” I bite my lip and then spill the truth. “I’ve never done this with someone before.”
He flips me back around so he can meet my gaze. “Which part? The elevator or the position?”
“Well, both. But the part I was talking about was…you know. The doggy-style thing.”
He bites back on a smile. “That’s a horrible description of it.”
“That’s what I’ve always heard it called.”
I glance away. But Dylan tips my chin up with his hand so I have nowhere to look but into his eyes.
“We’ll do something else then. Okay?”
I nod, trying to squash the disappointment I feel.
Because…
Dylan’s gaze flies to mine. “Wait. Do you want to try it? Hell, whatever position you want will make me happy. But you look curious.”
My cheeks are flaming. “No, I don’t.”
His dimples get bigger. “You do. You look very curious. And I’m more than happy to help.”
