Page 167 of Dirty Like Dylan

The feel of him, his nearness, the smell of him… all of it was familiar. It didn’t repel me.

But it didn’t turn me on.

And he felt it; that this wasn’t gonna end well. I felt it, with a shocking kind of nakedness I’d never felt before.

This wasn’t about Amber.

It was about Ash.

It was about me.

Which meant I needed to be straight with him—no fucking pun intended.

I had to let him go. Because including him in my intimate life, sharing a bed with him in any way, was only hurting him.

I knew that now. It was obvious to me, grossly obvious in a way that hit me with a wave of shame, because I’d never even realized it before.

I should have.

I just didn’t.

He broke away. We stared at each other for a long, intense minute. He was still gripping my face in his hands. He was breathing hard.

I wasn’t. I could barely breathe at all.

“Ash…” I pretty much whispered. “I’ve gotta tell you something…”

And for sure, he knew.

I knew he could feel it when he looked at me with that fucking wounded look in his eyes, when his hands dropped from my face like I’d burned him.

He knew he wasn’t gonna like what I had to say.

But I had to say it anyway. I had to. I knew it with every fucking part of me.

It was beyond time.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Ash

“I’m sorry,” Dylan said, like that was the most important thing. Like he had to lead with that, no matter whatever shit came after.

That he was fucking sorry about whatever he had to say to me—right on the heels of me admitting I fucking loved him.

That I was in love with him.

“Don’t tell me you’re fucking sorry,” I said. “Just tell me the truth.”

“Okay.” He swallowed. He looked fucking scared. I’d never seen Dylan look so fucking scared, and it was pissing me the fuck off. “I just… I can’t…”

“Can’t what?”

“Be with you.” He swallowed again. “Like that.”

“Like what?”

“I can’t kiss you back, Ash.” His voice was pained and too fucking quiet.

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