Page 34 of Sunshine
“You’re doing it on purpose.”
“Doing what?”
“Flirting with Wade because you know it makes me crazy.”
Flirtingwith Wade? If believing that is what’s required for Dylan to act like a caveman, I’m not going to correct him. It’s too satisfying. Too arousing.
I drop a cool glance at Dylan’s hand wrapped around my arm tight enough to pinch. He lets me go, but he doesn’t back out of my space.
“What happened to your date?” I ask.
Dylan’s gaze moves over my face, his breath coming hard through his nose. “Over.”
I can’t hide my surprise. “Already?”
“Already.”
There’s a beat of silence as I wait for more information, but Dylan’s jaw remains clenched. His hands curl into fists at his side, and suddenly words I shouldn’t say come tumbling out.
“IfI was flirting with Wade,” I poke, “and I’m not saying you’re right, butifI was, why do you care?”
A low sound rumbles through his chest, so much like a growl that a rush of wet warmth pools between my legs. “Because he’s not—”
“Donottell me he’s not good enough for me,” I snap. “I’m not sixteen, and I don’t need you to save me from my own bad choices. We’re not children. I’m not your problem anymore.”
“Why are you like this?”
“Like what?” I try not to tremble as his eyes flash and desire twists tighter in my core.
“Frustrating. Challenging.” His eyes drop to my mouth. “Exasperating.”
“Andstillnot your problem.”
My heart races as I push a little bit more. I’m playing with matches. Please let us burn.
Dylan’s blue eyes turn hooded and tortured, and he moves a step forward, making me step back. He takes another, forcing me to give way, crowding me until my back hits the wall. His hips meet my stomach, and I gasp at the hard hint of his cock.
Dylan dips his head until his mouth brushes my ear. “You’ll always be my problem.”
He swallows my whimper with his lips against mine.
Dylan’s mouth is hot and demanding, and the tears that threatened to spill over earlier leak down my cheek. Only now they’re tears of disbelief and desperation and release. I clutch at his shirt and meet his greedy tongue with my own as his hands slip under my shirt.
“Fuck,” he mutters, pressing me harder against the wall. “I knew you’d taste like cherry.”
I moan against his mouth, the salt of my tears mixing with the slippery sugar of my lip gloss and the delicious flavor that is Dylan Davenport. His fingers brush the underside of my bare breast, his dick twitches against my body, and my nipples harden into tight, tingling furls.
Is this real? Are we doing this? Oh, God.We’re doing this.
Without warning, his hands disappear, his mouth pulls away, and a cool air-conditioned draught passes between us. Dylantakes a long step back and pushes his hands into his hair, tugging at the ends and staring at me like he doesn’t know me—or doesn’t know himself.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I touch my burning, swollen lips, and then the remnants of tears clinging to my cheeks. “You’re…sorry?”
“Fuck,” he whispers, then louder. “Fuck! I never should have— I lost control for a minute. This was a mistake.”
My throat closes enough that it’s painful to swallow, and suddenly I can’t breathe. I can’tbreathe.
