Page 86 of Dirty Like Dylan

Unbelievable…

There was a giant billboard on top of a nearby building, all lit up in the night—a photo of Dylan, his muscular bod leisurely stretched out in a pair of skin-tight Underlayer briefs.

I turned back to him, shutting my eyes. I didn’t want his beautiful face or his adorable crooked smile confusing me. I jabbed a thumb at the billboard over my shoulder. “Did you bring me to that restaurant because you knew that was there?”

I heard him sigh softly. “No, Amber. I brought you to that restaurant because I thought you’d like the food. And I was hoping to show you that I have some class.” I peered at him and he smiled again. “Guess that’s blown, huh?”

As I forced myself to meet his eyes, I felt the smile pulling at my own lips. This time, I couldn’t even hold it back.

Maybe because, womb-fluttering aside, the truth was that I felt something for Dylan Cope. I felt how much I liked him, already. How drawn to him I was. How intrigued I was by him; by everything about him, and not just because he was so damn sexy.

How much I’d been trying to convince myself I shouldn’t be attracted to him, because I thought he was gay.

Or maybe… I’d just wanted to believe he was gay because it made it easier to leave.

Yeah. Unfortunately, that sounded about right.

Which meant… shit.

Ugly truth time…

I’d liked Dylan first… but I’d had sex with Ashley. Because deep down, just maybe, I wanted to ruin this before it had any possible chance of getting started.

Well, that fucking backfired.

Because it didn’t even bother Dylan. At all.

And now, if I was really being honest with myself, I not only liked both of them… I wanted to have sex with both of them.

And they were best friends.

And they possibly wanted to share me.

This was definitely outside of my wheelhouse. Maybe that was why I was so freaked out, so scared to take a chance on this? To try?

Because I really had no idea what I was doing. Or who I was doing it with.

This tall, gorgeous and seemingly-uncomplicated man in front of me was a complete mystery to me. I’d thought he was uncomplicated. You know, just your run-of-the-mill gorgeous, rich, gay rock star. But I was wrong. Way wrong. Like he’s-actually-straight-but-willing-to-share-me-with-his-BFF wrong. Now, his washboard abs and green-gold eyes and kinky mind seemed like incredibly uncharted territory.

But his kindness was, too.

And that made me more than nervous. The reality was, it was easier to handle Ashley with all his thorns than it was to look into the compassion in Dylan’s eyes right now and not squirm.

God, I had so many layers of fucked up.

I knew I’d been scared Dylan wouldn’t like me. But I was more scared, maybe, that he would—and I’d screw it up.

I took a deep, deep breath. “I’m sorry I called you a pig. You’re not a pig.”

“Apology accepted,” he said. “And I’ll try to live up to that pronouncement.”

“Just tell me one thing. Why do I make you nervous?”

“Because, Amber,” he said, his voice low and gentle as he shifted closer to me. So close, his heat poured over me and his body brushed mine. “You act like you don’t need me. And that puts me in a weird place. If I have nothing you need, why would you stick around?”

“Sorry,” I replied softly, not sorry at all. “That’s just how it is.” My hands went up, landing on his biceps, and squeezed. Kind of holding him off, when I really wanted to pull him closer. “I don’t need a man, Dylan Cope.”

I didn’t. I didn’t need one at all.

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