Page 84 of Dirty Like Dylan

“Okay,” I said. “Fuck off.” Then I glanced at him. When I met his bright eyes, I actually had to try really hard not to crack a smile. But I forced myself to frown instead. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea about me.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.” At least, I think so.

But now Ashley’s words to me replayed in the back of my mind…

I knew you were kinky.

I knew it the moment I saw you.

And then those four other words…

Do you want him?

I was looking at him now. And yes, I wanted him.

I’d had sex with Ashley just last night, and I still wanted Dylan.

But.

“I’m just not used to this,” I told him. I could feel the tears coming, quivering, tickling my eyelashes and threatening to betray me, to streak down my face. I couldn’t blink for fear that they’d fall, so I turned away and dabbed at my eyes.

Dylan moved in behind me. I felt him there, so crazy-tall and imposing, but so cool about everything when I was so freaked out; it made me want to reach out and close the gap between us. Yank him to me. Hug him. Actually, right now, it kinda made me want to throttle him.

He’s used to women pursuing him.

The pussy just magically materializes in his presence…

Right. Well, maybe I just wasn’t that kind of pussy.

“I’m not… that kinky,” I confessed, and he laughed.

I turned to face him, too pissed to care that he could now tell I was crying.

“What’s so damn funny?” I demanded.

His smile fell, and he shook his head a little. “You.”

“Why?”

“I don’t care how kinky you are or aren’t, Amber. All I care about is you, wanting to be here right now, with me.”

Shit. How much I would’ve loved to hear those words… like yesterday.

I took a breath and looked up at the sky. At the sparkle of stars that could barely be seen beyond the glow of the skyscrapers towering around us. And I felt weirdly trapped, the way I always felt when I was in a city too long. Did I want to be here? “Yeah. I love having emotional conversations in random parking lots with the smell of piss in the air.”

He said nothing, and when I looked at him again, he was smiling.

And for some reason, I wanted to make him stop smiling.

“I took some photos of you yesterday. On the deck, by the pool,” I said. “Ashley wanted me to take them. It was his idea.”

Not that the thought hadn’t occurred to me, but I never would’ve done it if Ashley hadn’t suggested it.

Probably.

“So…?” I prompted when he offered nothing. No look of surprise. No request for an explanation, and none given.

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