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"I'm in love with you.” I blink at him. “Is that strange? Yes, but I am. You fill a gap in my soul, Sky, and I don't want to lose you."
Nobody has ever spoken to me in this way, and he doesn’t need to. Dylan has no reason to seduce me with clever words and subtle seduction—he had the chance in Cornwall.
Dylan places his lips on mine, sending a wave of sensation through my body, and the last part of my wall falls away. I’m lost the moment his mouth touches mine as the connection he talks about fuses us. Dylan can’t love me; people don’t fall in love after a week. Yet if I go with the unspoken ways we understood each other from the first day, and the speed in which we opened up to each other, maybe there is something more. Perhaps not love but the something he’s fighting for in his weird way.
Hesitantly, he pulls me to him by my hips and slides his hand up my back. The way our bodies shape against each other pulls us into our intense world where only we exist. The moment I respond to his kiss, his mouth claims mine. He runs his tongue along my bottom lip and I part my mouth, allowing him to kiss me deeply. Losing my grasp on anything but Dylan’s warmth at the places our bodies touch, I grip his short hair and tangle my tongue with his. He tastes of the whiskey he drank before, and of the Dylan I kissed on the beach.
Dylan moves to kiss my neck, his stubble scraping along the skin firing heat to the centre of me. He places his lips gently against the sensitive spot beneath my ear, encircling my waist so the charged gap between our bodies disappears completely. His hair tickles as he moves to planting kisses along my throat, before crushing his mouth against mine again.
Unable to breathe from the intensity, I pull away air pushing from my lungs in short bursts. Convinced my legs are about to collapse, I hang onto his arm, and his grip around my waist tightens. His arousal is evident against my hip, spiking my own in return. Dylan places his forehead on mine, and his breath heats my skin.
In the moment with Dylan, we return to our illusory world and I finally understand what he means. With him, where I am doesn’t matter because the world we exist in follows us everywhere. We don't need to be in Broadbeach, and we were never in a bubble. This is real.
"Let’s leave the party. I can’t do this. I want them all to go away and for the world be me and you again," he says, running his fingers long my cheek.
"Aren't we supposed to put on a show for everyone?" I whisper, sliding a hand along his hard back.
"Fuck that," says Dylan. "I'm stealing you away with a bottle of champagne to somewhere quiet where you'll have no choice but to listen to me."
