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Instead of pushing me away, he held me closer.
He circled one hand around my waist, cementing my body against him. His other hand crept up to the back of my head and cupped the back of my neck, ensuring that there was absolutely no chance in hell I could pull away.
I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
Kissing Dylan was everything I’d ever imagined it to be. A literal fairytale, everything I’d ever wanted any kind of kiss to feel like.
I felt warm and safe and content wrapped up in his arms, and as he took control and gently moved his lips against mine, I melted against him, unable and unwilling to pull myself away.
For just this once, I wanted to feel the way I did when I read a first kiss in my books.
Helplessly given over to the moment, where no escape was possible, and I had to keep going just to see what would happen next.
Dylan’s lips brushed over mine, getting ever softer with each kiss, and my heart finally slowed to a gentle beat that didn’t feel like I was going to burst.
“You didn’t push me away,” I whispered, so vulnerably it was like someone was ripping my soul in two.
“I didn’t want to push you away, love,” he replied just as softly, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. “I just didn’t want you to regret kissing me.”
“I did, though. I regretted it anyway.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Saylor. So bloody sorry.” He raised his hands so they cupped my face and pulled back enough to look me in the eye. “If you want to cross the line we set, then we’ll cross it together. Slowly. At a pace you’re comfortable with.”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“Then it doesn’t work.”
“You’re confident.”
“No, I’m realistic.” His lips pulled up. The same lips I just kissed. “I’m not going to lie to you and tell you this is going to work, because I don’t know. I’m not a fortune-teller, nor do I know anything for sure. But if you want to, we can try. I’m willing to take the risk. I always have been.”
I swallowed, then drew my lower lip between my teeth.
“You can be scared.” His voice was but a whisper. “It’s all on your terms, Pinky.”
“I fucking hate that nickname.”
“I know. It’s why I use it.”
I peered up at him. “Stop.”
“No.”
My giggle escaped me before I could stop it, and I extracted myself from his arms. Dylan joined me in laughing as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and looked at me.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“I had pizza not long ago.”
“You ordered pizza without me?”
“For a guy who’s a personal trainer, you eat like shit.”
“Wrong. I know my balance.” He uncapped his water. “Pizza and beer today, water and salad and chicken for the next three days.”
“That’s a sad balance.”
“That’s why I have abs.”
“I guess it’s why I don’t have abs.”
“I don’t have abs for me. I keep them for other people.” He winked and walked toward his room.
Something flashed through my mind. “Hey, Dylan?”
Stopping, he turned around. “Yes?”
“You know that date the other day? With Stacy?”
“Her, again? Really?”
“You told me she isn’t your type.”
He took a drink of his water, making his throat bob. A little escaped the bottle and ran down his jaw and neck, and he rubbed his hand over his jaw right as his lips curved to the side. “She isn’t. I guess my type is a little shorter, a little sassier, and with hair a hell of a lot pinker.”
My cheeks burned, and he held my gaze for a moment longer before he disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door.
I wanted to kill the butterflies in my stomach, but they just wouldn’t stop.
And you know what?
I wasn’t mad about it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN – DYLAN
RULE SIXTEEN: FLIRTING IS HARD. LIKE A DICK.
I needed a day off more than I needed anything right now, so waking up with the knowledge that I had one was enough to put a spring in my step.
After I’d woken up properly. Just because I was awake didn’t mean I was awake.
Especially after last night.
I didn’t know if I was more physically tired or emotionally tired after the insanity of the last couple of days. Saylor kissing me, me stopping it, then her coming clean about her feelings yesterday…
I hardly dared believe it was true.
I just needed to figure out where we went from here. I knew she still had some reservations, and I was absolutely fine with taking it at her pace.
Working out what that pace was would be the hardest part of this.
I got out of bed and pulled on some sweatpants. I figured she’d have less of an objection to me not wearing a shirt now, given how things were going, if she was even still home.
Yawning, I stepped out of my room, and my nose twitched at the scent of bacon.
