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Rose always knew what the answer to that was going to be, whether he had been on the verge of a panic attack or not. He had a power over her, one that made her feel like she’d do anything he asked of her. She would crawl on her hands and knees for that man.
“Of course,” she whispered, trying to contain herself.
She threw her drink back and then left cash on the bar for the barkeep. When Dylan tried to take it and replace it with his own, she squeezed his leg and then pushed her mouth into his. He was startled backward, feverishly running his hands up and down her ass.
Rose had no idea what had come over her. The man had put some kind of spell on her, surely.
“Don’t you dare,” she whispered with raised eyebrows.
Dylan flashed her a handsome smile, then gave her bum a light pinch. She winced, a part of her wishing they could forget the whole strange moment from earlier and get to the fucking.
But she had to stand her ground. She deserved someone willing to share themselves with her, not someone who hid all their ugly bits away.
They left the restaurant hand in hand, returning to Dylan’s car. Rose thought the entire way back about what could have been wrong and if she was ready to hear any of it. She told herself that once he told her his secret, she could tell him hers. Being in a punk band while also teaching at a prestigious school of the arts wasn’t so bad, right?
Rose was flung into the past as she thought about her parents on the car ride back to Dylan’s place. They would be aghast to find her in a punk band, as would their contingent of friends. They were the judges she worried about most, so she figured that her mind projected that onto the rest of the world.
For all she knew, Dylan would find her even sexier. She knew that the longer she kept it to herself, the harder it would be to explain why she had kept it hidden. She felt the warm squeeze of his hand on her thigh as he drove on and told herself to take each revelation one at a time.
ELEVEN
DYLAN
Despite his surge of confidence in the bar, Dylan was feeling nervous as they drove back to his penthouse. Not only was he going to have Rose back at his place, but he was going to have to expose the deepest, darkest corners of his soul. He had to if he wanted her to continue seeing him. She was right about what she said. If he wasn’t willing to share every part of him with someone, then what were they even doing together?
A rush of orange blossom fragrance moved from between Rose’s cleavage, racing through Dylan’s nostrils as he drove. His hand was on her thigh, a reassuring gesture, but inside, he was stirring, feeling as lost as a balloon set free into the sky.
They traveled up the elevator silently. Dylan could hear his heartbeat in his ears, thoughts swirling inside his head like birds stuck in a cage. He didn’t know how she would react. Would she accept him? Or would she think who he was beneath his mind and brooding exterior was actually someone entirely not worth loving?
Rose slipped her hand into his on the elevator, making him shake like he had just been electrocuted.
She smiled, so cute and calm.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
They walked down the hall, hand in hand. Dylan unlocked the door, letting Rose in behind him. He flicked the lights on, and she looked up at the high ceilings. Her green eyes dazzled, gazing up with a look of astonishment. Dylan motioned toward the couch, smiling small at the gorgeous woman in his living room. “You can take a seat, lovely,” he said. “Would you like another drink?”
She nodded, her eyes still on him as she moved toward the couch. Dylan grabbed the whiskey from the bar by the window, feeling Rose’s presence vibrate beyond him like a screaming siren.
“How long have you lived here?” Rose asked.
Dylan poured the drinks carefully, noticing his hands shaking. He closed his eyes, then placed the bottle down on the bar.
“Five or six years now,” he replied, swallowing hard.
When he turned, she was sitting on the couch, her purse on the coffee table, and her heels kicked off. He loved the casual look about her, leaning against the couch, looking like an art piece that belonged in his home forever.
He handed her the drink, and then they clinked them together. Rose held the amber liquid close to her lips, then slipped her tongue out between her beautiful lips before speaking.
“It’s lovely,” she said, politely smiling as she took a sip.
Dylan took a large gulp of his whiskey ... which was admirable ... and placed the glass down. He shifted his body toward her, took her drink, then placed it next to his on the table. He closed his eyes and did something he had never felt the need to do. He prayed.
He prayed she would understand that he was taking a proper risk, that the pain, which felt like long nails running up his ribs, would all be worthwhile.
Dylan took her hands in his, then opened his eyes.
She was an angel sent to him, sitting there in her skirt and blouse, gazing up through her bright blonde hair. Her eyes were something else, something cosmic, like planets orbiting the sun. He saw his future within them, swimming in some far-off glistening sea, drowning in her body and mind.
