Page 64 of My Infatuation with Isabella

“That’s not something I’d necessarily brag about.” I shift, trying not to pay attention to his hand or what it’s doing to me. “Tell me a fun fact, something that you would tell your listeners if you had a show.”

“Well, I was also excited when I bought myself a new car.”

“Yeah? Another Jeep?”

“Nah, I got a Lamborghini this time.”

My eyebrows furrow together. “You’re not the type for a sports car.”

“See? You do know me. It’s not a sports car. I got a matte black Lamborghini Urus. It’s atank, about the size of an SUV, but the power on this thing...shit, it just flies, and if you hear the engine...man, Ilovethat car.” And it shows by how excited he is just talking about it. “Pretty heavy price tag, but I have no regrets. Peter wanted me to get the Aventador, but that’s a bit too...gaudy and flashy for my taste. I told him I’ll save that one for my mid-life crisis. The Urus suits my quarter-life crisis just fine.”

If there’s one thing I do know about Dylan, it’s that he knows how to hide a serious situation behind a joke. His tone is playful, but he meant that last comment. I don’t get a chance to analyze it because his hand creeps further up my thigh, the tips of his fingers moving beneath the hem of my dress. My breath staggers as the warmth of his hand spreads over my skin. This is a very bold move, and my eyes quickly scan the room only to discover that we’re completely alone. Even the two gentlemen who were smoking at the door leading outside have disappeared.

“Your hand is creeping up my dress like it has a right to be there.”

He smirks, his brown eyes daring me to challenge him as his hand moves up an inch higher. “It has every right to be there.” He lifts his other hand from the back of the couch to tuck my hair behind my ear. Tilting his head slightly to the side, his focus shifts to the tattoo on my neck. “It’s still a K.” He leans closer and his warm breath tickles my skin. “So, I’m guessing this spot is still mine.”

His lips ghost along my neck and my body tenses with anticipation, goosebumps rising on my arms. Between the hand caressing my thigh and the lips lightly kissing the side of my neck, I’m about ready to burst. This dude does not understand. I haven’t been touched in almost two years and the only touch I have ever yearned for is his.

“There’s a disparity here,” he whispers against my ear. “You allocated this tiny, little spot to me, and it seems so small...because I wantedallof you.” The hand on my thigh moves to my face, clasping my jaw to keep me in place. “I think...I’m just going to take back every spot that’s supposed to be mine...starting here...” I feel the subtle moistness of his tongue on my neck, and I shut my eyes, biting my lip to stifle a gasp. “And here...” He kisses every heart leading up from my jawbone to my cheek. “And here...” His mouth moves across my cheek until it reaches my lips. “And here...”

“Dylan.” I press my finger against his lips before he kisses me and push him back an inch. “What are you doing?”

I don’t know what’s going on between him and Fran, but that reference to his quarter-life crisis was a clue for me to steer clear of this mess. I don’t want to be the substitute or the escape or the other woman this time around.

“I think this has gone far enough,” I say, standing up. “Goodnight.”

“Bella.”

I ignore him and walk toward the door that leads back to the party. I’m almost home free when Elenore blocks my path, and Dylan grabs my arm at the same time.

“Say cheese,” Elenore says, lifting the camera.

If she wasn’t head of HR, I would probably cuss her out right now. Instead, I fake a smile so she can take the picture and I can get out of here.

“Oh, wait. He’s very tall, so he’s not fully in the picture.” She takes a step back, then gasps. “You guys are under a mistletoe. It must be a sign.”

Dylan and I both look up to see the small tuft of green leaves and branches.

“Give him a kiss,” Elenore says, focusing the camera on us again. “A quick one on the cheek.”

“No,” I reply, and Dylan chuckles at the panic in my voice. “Just take the picture.”

She isn’t happy with my tone but doesn’t argue. “Move a little closer.” Dylan takes that as a cue to put his arm around my shoulder. “Okay, ready...one...two...”

Right before she snaps the pic, the hand on my shoulder tips my chin up and his mouth drops straight onto mine. My body freezes and explodes with heat at the same time. The feel of his mouth is familiar, yet the newness of the sensation encapsulates me, and I melt into him. A big hand cups the side of my face. I feel the cool metal of his thumb ring when his thumb tugs my chin down, and his tongue slides into my mouth the next second. If I wasn’t utterly overwhelmed by the exhilaration pumping through me, I would moan, scream, I’d be clinging to this guy, but his kiss has rendered me motionless.

He's the first to pull away and I’m still dazed. I can’t figure out how long that kiss lasted. It felt like a mere second, and it wasn’t enough. It’s been a lifetime since I felt his mouth on mine, and one measly second in no way makes up for every kiss I’ve missed in that time.

Another click of the camera reminds me that we aren’t alone. He takes a step back and slides his hands into his pockets, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You got her,” Elenore teases playfully.

“I did.”

And the somewhat arrogant smile that quirks his lips up tells me that he knows the effect that kiss had on me and just how good he got me. Elenore takes one more picture before she walks away.

“I don’t know about you, but that wasn’t enough for me,” he says once we’re alone.

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