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“I’m saving your ass; that’s what I’m doing.” He downed the rest of his drink, sliding the empty glass away from him along the glossy wood.
Skylar waited a breath before she continued. “Kade told me about your friend, Jax.”
“Kade had no business talking to you about that.” Dyllan stared straight ahead, avoiding her.
“Maybe, but if how you’re acting plays into some hero complex, I don’t want a part in it. I can handle myself.” Skylar sat straighter on her stool. The alcohol made her vision spin a little as she moved, but she refused to show it.
Dyllan grunted, “Obviously. Not like you just about threw yourself at the bartender there while trying to order a drink.”
“I didn’t throw myself at anyone. The alcohol lowered my filter, and I didn’t realize what I was saying.”
Dyllan shifted beside her, pressing his leg against hers harder this time and lowered his lips to her ear. “Really, babydoll? It didn’t cross your mind that when you asked him for those drinks, he wouldn’t picture those red lips around his cock? Or see you sprawled out on a sandy beach underneath him? No, I think you knew exactly what you were doing.”
Skylar gasped at his words, turning her gaze to his. His eyes were so dark they were almost black. “Is that what you pictured?”
“What do you think?” Pools of desire swirled in his eyes as he leaned closer to her.
Her core clenched, and Skylar found herself picturing that. Her body laid out on the hot sand, sinking as the body above her pressed her farther down. Only it wasn’t the bartender; it was Dyllan. Closing her eyes, she could feel the weight of his skin on hers, the feel of him lengthening along her thigh. Like the feeling of a phantom limb, she could feel his outline, her body remembering how it felt when he pressed himself up against her on the plane. Inwardly moaning, she knew she wanted to feel more, explore more, and it pissed her off.
She snapped her eyes open, looking straight into his, issuing a silent challenge. “I think you’re full of it. So, what if I wanted him to think that? I’m here in Vegas, might as well have some fun.”
“You’re playing with fire, babydoll.” He leaned in closer, his lips a breath away from hers.
She wondered if they were soft or rugged like the rest of him. If his beard would burn her skin as they moved in sync with their desire. She wondered if he’d grab her and take control as she’d always wanted her partner to, but they never did.
“Maybe I want to get burned,” she whispered back to him.
She didn’t move an inch, knowing that if anything were going to happen, she wouldn’t be the first one to make a move. It needed it to be him. She wanted it to be him.
He held her gaze while fire coursed through her veins. She couldn’t move. She felt paralyzed by the depths of emotions that flashed in his eyes. Skylar was overwhelmed by her senses as she drank Dyllan in. She could almost taste the smoky aroma of the scotch on his breath as it mingled with the spicy scent of pepper and ginger from his cologne. He always carried an air of the outdoors with him, something fresh and crisp that always made her sigh and long for the woods.
The heat from his leg pressed against her fuelled the fire already burning deep within her. It had already become a part of her now, and the more he pressed his powerful body up against hers, the more she felt shielded, protected. His quickening breath in her ear told her he was just as affected by their proximity as she was.
“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Dyllan said, breaking their connection and righting himself in his seat.
Skylar closed her eyes and shook her head as she hugged her stomach.
Stupid. So stupid to think this oversized oaf could feel anything, especially for me.
A new bartender came over, and Skylar put all her fleeting focus on ordering more drinks. Skylar felt her eyes drooping as she nursed her latest Hurricane, her finger trailing up and down the glass, collecting the condensation on her finger.
“I’m sorry,” Dyllan grumbled from beside her. With the music and conversations around him, mixed with all the alcohol she’d consumed, she wasn’t sure she heard him. He didn’t face her; instead, he looked down at the nearly empty tumbler in his hand.
“Did the great and powerful Dyllan Thompson just apologize to me?” Skylar turned in her chair, nearly falling off but managing to right herself at the last moment.
“Don’t push it, babydoll.” He gave her a sideways glance before shooting back the last of his amber liquid. “I’ve got shit going on, and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. So yes, I’m apologizing.”
“You can talk to me, you know. I’m a good listener.” She placed her hand on his arm, relishing the feeling of the connection that only happens with him.
He looked down at her hand and back at her. “No comment on ‘shit’?”
“I’m drunk; I’ll let it slide. But just for tonight,” she joked.
“Hmm, drunk Skylar is a little funny too.” The corner of his mouth ticked up.
“Drunk Skylar is a lot of things.”
Heat flashed in Dyllan’s eyes, causing her to realize what was implied by her statement. She slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean. Well, I mean, I am but not that you would be interested—and I’m not. Oh, shut up, Skylar.”
