Page 76 of Sweet Chaos
He looked annoyed like he’d been questioned before, most likely by Remy. “She just had a baby. I didn’t want to fuck that up for her.”
He was trying to give her that time to be happy, I guess. But why did everything have to be so complicated with him?
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“It’s all good.” I gave him a skeptical look. He cradled my face in his hands and tipped it up, his eyes searching mine. “Are you okay?”
A lump formed in my throat from those words. It was such a simple question, the kind of thing people asked each other all the time without really wanting an answer. But when Dylan asked, it sounded like it really meant something. Like the answer mattered.
I nodded a little. “I’m okay.”
He kissed me softly. His tongue swept over my lips and I parted them, letting him in, my arms wrapping around his neck as he deepened the kiss. I got caught up in the taste of him. His heady scent. The feel of his hands on my body.
It was too easy to get lost in this kiss. To get lost in him again. I pulled away and took a step back.
He ran his hand through his hair and raised a brow in question, his unspoken words asking what’s wrong.
“What are we doing? What are we, Dylan? You say it’s notjustsex, you say we’re notjustfriends, so what are we?”
He sighed in exasperation and carved his hand through his hair. “You wanna slap a label on it?”
“No. I want an answer.”
“I don’t know what we are. But I know that I want you. And I don’t want anyone else to have you.”
To me, that sounded a lot like a relationship. But with all the obstacles in our way, how could that even be possible? “You’re still my sister’s ex-boyfriend,” I pointed out.
“I can’t change history and that’s all we are. History.”
But she was still my sister and always would be. “My dad’s out to get you,” I admitted. “I overheard him on Saturday night.”
“Don’t worry about him. That has nothing to do with us. We’ll figure it out,” he said, sounding so confident. He checked his Omega Speedmaster for the time. “I need to get to a meeting. Wish me luck.”
“Why? Who’s the meeting with?”
“The planning commission, the council, the mayor. Pretty sure daddy dearest will be there,” he said calmly, like none of this fazed him.
My eyes widened and then I started laughing.
His thick brows drew together. “What’s so funny?”
“You.” I looked at his ripped jeans and combat boots. On closer inspection, they looked like the ones he used to wear, the leather cracked and worn, the laces undone. He looked like trouble and I loved it. But not exactly what you’d wear to a council meeting.
“Are you trying to make a statement with this outfit?” I asked, laughing again.
He winked at me. “Once an asshole, always an asshole.”
“Good luck. I believe in you, Dylan St. Clair.”
His eyes softened, the cocky expression disappearing as his eyes roamed my face searching for the truth in my words. “I don’t deserve it. But those words… they’re fucking everything.”
My eyes filled with tears. I was such a cry baby. But I knew how much those words meant to him.
He left me with a ‘see you later’ and a soft kiss on my forehead that was sweeter than the chocolates he’d sent.
After the door closed behind him, I plopped down on the swivel chair and took a sip of the Starbucks he’d brought me. Caramel macchiato. He remembered. I lifted the lid off the box of chocolates and popped a cherry into my mouth, moaning softly when the tart and sweet juices exploded, blending perfectly with the milky chocolate.
Food porn right there.
