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"Now works fine—if I can think straight." Or if I want to, Sabrina added silently to herself. She took a fortifying gulp of sangria.
"Let's start with the biggie." Dylan wasn't mincing words. "You're going through a lot of upheaval right now. An affair with me would be another complication."
"True. But maybe it wouldn't be an affair. Maybe it'd be something simple, like a one-night stand."
"Uh-uh." Dylan pushed aside his glass. "Not a chance. Not with us. One night would merely whet our appetites. Trust me."
She arched a brow. "About this, I guess I should. You're the one who discovered sex the day he reached puberty. That makes you a pro."
"It makes me experienced enough to know that with us—" He sucked in his breath. "Let's just say that once I get inside you, neither of us will be coming up for air for a long, long time. That's a given. Now, is it what you want, even with the complications?"
"Yes." Sabrina had never run away from anything in her life, and she wasn't running away from this. "It's just what I want. I only hope it doesn't push me past overload. But if it does, so be it. I'm a big girl. I can cope—I think. There's only one way to find out."
"Ditto, on all counts." He noted the dubious expression in her eyes, and addressed it. "Don't kid yourself, sweetheart. Experienced or not, I'm way out of my league on this one. I told you so last night. And I meant it." He reached over, took her hand, and brought her palm to his mouth. "But the bottom line is, I no longer give a damn."
Sabrina had to grit her teeth against the pleasure of his touch, his breath against her skin. "O-okay, we covered complication one. What are the others?"
"Mixing work with play. Becoming part of the media hype when your relationship to Carson gets out. Other things I can't come up with right now because all I can think about is getting inside you." Dylan's warm, open mouth moved against her palm in slow, teasing sweeps. "Your turn. Do any of those complications matter enough to change your mind?"
"No. There's only one potential obstacle that matters—and I'm not even sure it's valid."
"You're talking about Carson, and the way he'll react when he finds out."
"Y-yes." Sabrina caught her breath as Dylan bit down lightly on her palm, sending shock waves shimmering through her. "But after the way he just acted..."
"... it could be that that last complication's nonexistent." Dylan was tasting her skin, lingering at all the pleasure points.
"So you did notice."
"Um-hum."
How was she supposed to think straight when every caress was shooting straight to her loins?
Carson. They were talking about Carson, and whether or not he would be bugged by their getting together, or cheering them on.
"It wasn't my imagination then. Carson was pushing us into bed together," she managed weakly.
"Sure seemed that way to me." Dylan's tongue traced the inside of her wrist. "Unless it was a coincidence that he happened to be out of it just long enough to tell us both to get drunk and sleep in—and then, wham-o—he was wide awake when Susan walked in."
"That was my take on it, too." Sabrina tried to recall the conversation, but all she could think about was her libido, which was screaming at the top of its lungs. "I wonder if he has an agenda when it comes to us."
"Maybe. Maybe not." Dylan's breathing had become uneven. She could feel it against her damp skin. "Frankly, I don't care. I want you. You want me. We're consenting adults. Yes, I respect Carson's opinion of me. But that doesn't include needing his approval to take you to bed. The only person whose approval I need is yours." He dragged her ringers slowly across his parted lips, circling each fingertip with his tongue. "Do I have it?"
She would have replied, if she could speak. All she could muster was a nod.
Dylan took in the play of emotions on her face, and his jaw tightened. "Is there anything I'm forgetting on the complications front?" he demanded. "Because I thought I could wait. I can't."
"Neither can I."
The tension peaked, and splintered.
"Forget the second pitcher of sangria," Dylan ground out, releasing her fingers to shove his hand in his pocket and grope for his wallet. "I want you sober. I want your mind totally clear. That way, you'll know when I make you lose it."
That did it for Sabrina.
She was shaking as she tossed her napkin on the table, pushed aside her still-full glass. No arm-twisting was necessary. She wanted her mind as clear as Dylan did. "Get the check."
