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"Be with me, Sky," he says softly. "Not now or tonight. Be in my life."
"You're already in my heart and head. I've spent two weeks trying to prise you out and you won't leave," I whisper.
"Because part of me is part of you—I believe that. This isn’t fate, or chemistry, but deeper." He holds my face in both hands, tone earnest and I know he truly believes his words.
"Don't get talky again."
Laughing, Dylan pulls me onto his lap the way he did when we snuggled at the beach house. He grips me around the waist, thumbs rubbing the sensitive spot on my back through my dress.
"I can't out talk you and your smart mouth, but I think I'll always know how to shut you up," he says, looking up at me with an unmistakable intensity.
My breath hitches, because I know he's right. I have no smart comebacks to the silencing kisses and touches. "Shut me up, then," I say.
A knowing smile hovers on his lips and he looks at my breasts, which are at his eye level. "One of the reasons I like this dress? Buttons." He undoes the top button. "Buttons all the way down."
He kisses the skin he exposes, lips cool against the heat, as he slowly unbuttons the rest. The soft touch lights the fuse paper on the repressed desperation for his hands on my body. I run trembling hands along his back, dragging my fingers across the ridges of muscle hidden beneath his shirt. Dylan leaves the buttons and grips my hips, pulling me close, and I drown in Dylan, his touch transporting me back to the night at the beach house. He runs his nose along the sensitive spot at the base of my neck, his breathing heavy to match mine.
"Tell me to stop if this isn't what you want," he says against my neck, the heat of his mouth burning my skin.
The shaking mass of arousal I’ve become could never refuse. I’ve stepped away from my opportunity to step out of his life and I know why—because Dylan’s filled a gap in my soul too. I don’t know why, or how, or what’s next, apart from I’m giving my mind a sabbatical and going wherever Dylan is taking me.
Slipping the floral dress from my shoulders, he nips my shoulder then plants soft kisses towards the top of my breasts, palming the soft mounds through my cotton bra.
I fumble with the buttons of his shirt, and once I've undone the minimum to fit over his head, I pull the shirt upwards. Dylan helps, exposing the smooth lines of his chest. I run my fingers along his chest, across his shoulders, then trace his tattooed arms. This man's hard, muscled body never left my fantasies.
In a swift movement, Dylan unclasps and dispenses with my bra, tongue teasing my nipple before I have a chance to react. The sudden intensity pools hot desire between my legs. I moan and grip his broad shoulders, digging my nails into his smooth flesh.
He stops and looks up at me. "Good job those aren't as sharp as your tongue."
"Oh, very clever," I say, "Now who has a smart mouth?"
Not listening, Dylan rests his head against the back of the sofa, rubbing my exposed thighs. "I have a lot of difficulty controlling myself around you. So I apologise now for what I'm about to do."
A million scenarios crash into my head; the inevitability of the chain reaction we caused when we kissed in the house is finally here.
"What are you about to do?"
Dylan skims a hand across my belly, fingers hovering at the edge of my panties. "Remember when I said I'd never fuck you?" he whispers. "Do you remember what I said?"
I want to speak but my brain is mush, waiting for those fingers to explore, so I shake my head.
"I told you, you’re worth so much more than that…the things I could do to you..."
I groan at his teasing and his arousal straining his trousers pushes against my thin underwear makes his delay a hundred times worse.
"I dreamed about touching your curves and enjoying the softness of your skin from the very first night in Broadbeach. Every single minute your mouth was close enough, I obsessed about kissing you."
As if making up for lost time, he runs his fingers along my back, stroking gently before moving his hands and cupping my breasts. As he circles his thumb around my hard nipples, I shuffle backwards on his knee so I can reach the button of his trousers. Unlike the night in the kitchen, he allows me to unfasten them with my shaking fingers.
For a heart-stopping moment, I think Dylan might change his mind again, because he lifts me from his lap then sets me on the sofa.Oh, god, please don't say no again...Instead, he stands and shuffles out of his trousers, the expensive suit pants landing on the floor next to his shirt.
At last, I get to see Dylan in his briefs in real life—I’ve seen a couple of pictures on the internet but in those photos his black briefs didn't include a barely restrained erection.
Oh, holy fuck.This is the definition of a killer body—dangerous and threatening to any girl's self-respect. And this god of a man wantsme.I hungrily drag my gaze across his chest, taking in the sight of his rock hard abs and the lines disappearing into his briefs. Dylan doesn’t stand for long, pushing me backwards onto the sofa and when his skin meets mine, the contrast of the softness over the unyielding strength of his muscles undoes me further.
I arch my back as he slides a hand beneath my ass, my hardened nipples brushing against him. Dylan groans, and his rigid length presses against my increasingly sensitive sex. He pulls my leg around his waist and nibbles on my lip as I gasp for breath, drowning in the moment with Dylan.
"Oh, fuck!" Dylan stops and sits back, raking his hand through his hair.
