Page 22 of Dylan (Bad Boys After Dark)
“Just trying to be nice. Hey, I have pizza and beer. Stick around for a few?”
She glanced up at the mirror. The woman looking back at her was flushed, her eyes soft and sated. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she looked a lot like Tiffany’s younger self.The self that got hurt so badly it nearly ruined me.
“Summer girl?” he said through the door.
She closed her eyes, reveling in the sound of his voice. “Yeah?”
“No pressure.”
She sighed. Why couldn’t he be a dick? That would make it easier for her to walk out the front door and never look back. She heard him walk toward the master bedroom. Then a door closed and the sound of running water came through the wall. His bathrooms, like hers, were back to back. She stared at the wall. He was a few inches away,naked. Her sex clenched with the thought. She looked down at her betraying body and said, “No. Stop it. Just stop.”
After washing up, she opened the bathroom door and found her clothing folded at her feet. Her heart squeezed. Thankful, and touched, she glanced around but didn’t see Dylan, so she dressed quickly and hurried into the living room, knowing if she saw him it would be even harder to leave. But staying would mean she was letting him get to know her. Letting him in. The boxes of chocolate she’d dropped by the door were stacked neatly on the coffee table beside the rest of her belongings. He’d turned down the stereo, which was playing softly now. He was so thoughtful, and being intimate with him was incredible. She felt her resolve chipping away.This is dangerous. I have to leave.
She picked up her belongings and held them against her chest, wanting one last minute to revel in the room where he’d made her forget her fears—and her work, which was a first. No man had ever made her that mindless.
“Hey there.”
She startled at Dylan’s voice and spun around. He had on his cargo shorts. His hair was wet from his quick shower. A few droplets of water clung to his chest. God she loved his chest. The urge to run her fingers through his chest hair was so strong she fisted them in her belongings to keep from reaching out.
“Hi.” Her heart hammered against her ribs as she tried to pull her mind from the depths of lust, but she couldn’t stop looking at him. She was used to seeing impressive physiques. Heck, she was surrounded by them at every event. But Dylan wasn’t built like the athletes she represented. He was big and broad but not overly bulky. His muscles were defined and well proportioned, like the rest of him.And boy do I like the rest of him. But to Tiffany, the most alluring things about Dylan were the ones that weren’t visible to the naked eye. He was kind and generous, funny and thoughtful.
Clearing her throat to try once again to get control of her emotions, she said, “Thanks for bringing me my clothes.”
He opened his palm, revealing her phone. “You dropped it with your purse when you attacked me.”
She snagged her phone, feeling her cheeks flush. “I can’t believe I didn’t…”
“Miss it?” He stepped closer as she scrolled through her messages. “You were a little preoccupied with getting into my pants.”
She cringed inwardly. There was no denying it. She mustered all the confidence she could, which was still not nearly the necessary cold-as-ice level, and met his gaze. “I had to get you out of my head once and for all.”
His lips lifted into a smile as his hands circled her waist, drawing her against him. “And how’s that working out for you?”
Considering my heart is doing a happy dance, not very well.
“Great. I’m done. You’re totally out of my system.” She pressed her lips together and took a step back, but he held her prisoner. “Dylan, look.” She held up her phone, showing him a list of messages she had to respond to.
“All I see is your gorgeous eyes telling me you want to stay and eat pizza and have a beer with me. No sex. Just two people eating dinner together.”
She sighed. “I have a contract to go through, and—”
“So do it here.”
She dropped her eyes to her phone, weighing the possibilities. With a gentle touch beneath her chin, he lifted her face so she had no choice but to look at him.
“You can work. We can get to know each other better. I just want to spend some time with you.”
Her heart told her to stay, but her brain was smarter than her heart, and remembered the pain of being hurt. It took all of her willpower to say, “I told you we were done.” Her hands were shaking again. Even she didn’t believe the lie.
His gaze softened. “We’re not nearly done, pretty girl, but I’m not asking you to stay so we can fool around.”
He cradled her face in his hands, and she liked the feel of his big, warm palms on her so much, she forgot she shouldn’t. He was solely focused on her, making her feel special and wanted. Anyone could send flowers and candy, but no one could fake the look in his eyes.
“I have work to do, too,” he assured her. “I was supposed to paint my kitchen tonight, but you had your wicked way with me instead. You work, I’ll paint. We’ll eat and talk.” When he lowered his lips to hers and brushed a kiss over them, her remaining resolve slipped away. “Please? Our first date.”
“Okay.” She relented so breathlessly she didn’t recognize her own voice. “But it’snota date. And you have to let me work.”
“Absolutely.” He laced his fingers with hers and led her past the construction site that had taken over his kitchen, to a beautiful dark wood dining room table, where there was an open pizza box and two bottles of beer.
