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“Dylan…” I arch my neck back, about to come. “God, you’re so tight.”
Chatter goes off outside, she moans, and I start to come. “They’re coming.” I breathe hard. “They’re coming.”
“You want me to stop?”
“Fuck,” I grunt.
I pump her from the bottom, and she lets her head fall back, both of us convulsing as our orgasms rock through us.
“God, your dick feels so good,” she breathes.
I run my hand up her back, feeling the poolwater or her sweat, but we stay there for only a moment before she slides off me, and we quickly dress.
“Dylan!” Tate calls.
Dylan casts a worried look to the door, and I grab her and kiss her.
“I’ll meet you at the dance tonight,” she tells me.
And that’s all she has to say before she leaves.
A half hour later, I’m showered again and dressed, and I’m still not sure what I’m going to wear tonight. We have hours yet, though. I walk to my window, seeing the rain has ended yet the clouds hang low, and my grandfather’s car is in the driveway. He must’ve just arrived.
Dylan’s car is still here, too, and I smile a little, relieved that she didn’t run.
Heading to Kade’s room to search for a suit, I open his closet door and my eyebrows immediately nosedive, seeing the shit all over his floor. A pile of shoes and junk that I can’t even make sense out of. That’s him, all right. I laugh, shaking my head. When told to clean his room, he just hides the mess.
I sift through his clothes, veering for the back where the garment bags hang. There are a ton. He’s kept every suit he’s ever owned. I go for the last one out of the bigger ones and unzip the bag, seeing a navy-blue three-piece. I inspect it closer, checking the size of the pants.
It’s the right size.
And I like the color.
But it’s fitted, and I don’t need anyone but Dylan seeing my dick.
I open another, seeing a black single-breasted coat with pants, and I check the size. Thirty-two. That works.
I close his closet door and lay the bag on his bed. I’ll ask him first. I don’t think he’ll say no, but I won’t deny him the opportunity to give me shit about finally taking advantage of his superior fashion sense.
I start to leave, but I spot the three tall, green lockers, side-by-side and anchored to his wall next to his closet. I look around, seeing he still has the two dressers he always had. Did he need more storage space for something?
I check his door, making sure no one’s coming, and reach out, picking up the combination padlock hanging from one of the lockers. All three doors have one, and I tug on it just a little, but of course, the door is secured. Is my dad not worried he’s keeping something he shouldn’t in here? Each one’s not big enough to fit a body but definitely liquor or drugs.
Not that I’ve ever known Kade to smoke, snort, or swallow anything illegal other than alcohol, but the need to lock up whatever’s in here makes me wonder. Who would care if it was anything else?
I head downstairs, stopping in the foyer and pulling on my hoodie.
Maybe Dylan knows why Kade has the lockers. Unfortunately, she’s seen him a lot more than his own brother has over the past year.
And it’s her last night with me tonight.
Maybe.
I don’t know if I’m coming home, nor do I know if Jared will even let her stay in Weston this evening. He’s pretty fucking upset.
But as I head toward the kitchen, I hear soft talking and I slow, in case I don’t want to intrude.
Hanging back near the doorway, I peer in, seeing my grandfather, Ciaran, sitting at the island, mixing pancake batter. Jared and my dad hover around the stove, making eggs, bacon, and toast, and I’m guessing Tate and Fallon put them to work, making breakfast for the family.
