AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Confusion grows in me, followed by a far more unfamiliar emotion that seems to always crop up around her. Concern? I can’t help it. I’m worried when she doesn’t answer me. And I have no right to be worried about anything to do with her. She’s not mine to worry about. Deep down though, I’ve already claimed her. I shove down the unpleasant feeling and storm up the stairs, catching the sound of music floating down.
She’s singing along to a catchy pop song I don’t know, her voice barely audible over the loud music. I’ve still got the guy on hold as I yank open the door to the right, the one I know leads to the bedroom she’s living in while we renovate.
“Don’t disappear on me like that—”
The rest of my words are cut off with a choked noise as my brain catches up to my eyes, and I register what I’m seeing.
This room is clean, so clean it’s clear she spent a hell of a long time ridding it of every single fucking particle of dust. Though it’s still worn down and old, it no longer gives off haunted house vibes. She doesn’t have a bed, just a camping mattress and cushions on the floor made comfy with a plush pillow and two huge blankets. But none of those things are what snags my attention so thoroughly every muscle in my body is pulled taut.
Dahlia’s on her knees on the floor, a suitcase open in front of her, half empty. There’s stacks of folded, organized clothes lined up against the wall. And I’ve fucking managed to walk in at the precise moment she’s unpacking and folding her underwear. Not just underwear. Fuck, the thing in her hands can’t be considered clothing at all. It’s all elastic and lace and ribbon, a deep purple color that I immediately know would look fucking incredible against her pale skin.
My cock twitches in my pants. I can’t help but picture her in it. Dahlia is sweet and innocent, despite how much sass she possesses, but holy shit the image of this deceptively angelic girl wrapped up in the sheer lace of that contraption like a fucking birthday present is pure sin.
Yeah, sinful’s right. Because she’s Harry’s fucking sister,the logical part of my brain reminds me but it’s drowned out by the animalistic, need-driven parts of me that are screamingMINE.
“Oh. Hey, Dylan,” Dahlia says as she turns her head to look at me, shuffling slightly so she can face me fully. That infernal outfit is still clutched in her hands like she doesn’t have a care in the world. I feel feral, as though I’m about to start salivating at the simple vision of her in it. “Are you okay?”
No. I’ve gone half mad.
“Can I…I mean, do you need something?” Dahlia asks, face morphing into what I think is an expression of concern or confusion but only makes me want to taste those pouty lips for myself.
Fuck, I’ve always been good at controlling myself. It’s never been a problem before, given that I rarely actually want anything badly enough for it to be. But this girl…
Do I need something? Absolutely I do.
“You,” I growl, barely catching the way those mossy green eyes of hers widen before I’m on the floor with her, her face in my hands.
Unthinking, I tilt her head back and slam my mouth against hers.
5
DAHLIA
Shock rockets through me.
One minute Dylan is glaring at me from the doorway, looking like he can’t decide whether he wants to slam the door closed and leave or eat me alive to live up to his grizzly bear nickname, and the next…
The next he’s kissing me.
For a brief second, I think I’m dreaming. Maybe I fell asleep face first into my suitcase. I had been up late after all thanks to the hefty dose of jet lag that comes with the eight-hour time difference, and it makes sense that my unconscious mind would dream this up given how hot Dylan is and how he makes me feel all twisted up inside. But no. No dream could even come close to this.
His mouth is warm and insistent against mine. The kiss isn’t soft or hesitant. No. It’s as harsh and all-consuming as the man himself. I gasp into it, lips parting, and he tilts my head up, angling me the way he wants.
I push up on my knees to get closer, flicking my tongue against his bottom lip, needing to taste him. His beard scratches my cheek a little, but I sort of like it. It makes me wonder how it would feel scratching my thighs. It’s just a kiss but he may as well have struck a match and lit me on fire. My body comes alive, warmth covering me before it settles into a tight, flaring coil of need between my legs.
I feel myself react, wetness flooding my thong. Oh God. I’ve never reacted this way to anyone before. I’ve been kissed, sure, but not for a while. I swore off men after a series of disastrous dating app attempts that resulted in multiple dates that were so boring I nearly fell asleep on my dinner plate. There had been absolutely no chemistry, even if I found the guy objectively attractive, and it was a waste of time.
Butthis…I don’t even have the brain cells to worry about how out of practice with kissing I am. It’s like he’s fried my brain and robbed me of any and all logic with just a few strokes of his tongue against mine.
Dylan’s tough, grumpy exterior should probably have sent me running for the hills…literally since there’s a range of them practically on my doorstep now. But instead, I can’t help but see all his prickliness as a challenge. A test I’m determined to ace. Because I’m sure there’s more to him than frowns and harsh comments and gruff, snappy words. I take the fact that he’s clearly annoyed by me as a total win. It means I affect him, it means I’ve already managed to find a crack in his hard shell.
But I never expected to get through those walls so fast. In all the thoughts I’ve had in the days since I saw him again, this scenario was not on the list of possibilities.
Dylan releases me, and immediately, I miss his touch. His panting breath puffs against my lips as he goes to draw away and sever the connection between us.
No! The last thing I want is for this to stop. It’s wholly unfair of him to reduce me to a puddle with just one kiss and then pull away. Undoubtedly, he’s going to turn around and leave, tighten all the security to keep that grumpy shield in place, and be even more standoffish and mean than usual. I won’t accept that.
He’s just proven to me that he feels this tug between us, that I affect him at least a little. I don’t care if he’s conflicted about that fact. He can’t hide from me now. And the idea my mind conjures up of him insisting this was a mistake, of him telling me this never should’ve happened…well it might just break my heart.
