Physical Distraction (The Physical Series Book 3)

by Sierra Hill

  It was sheer madness. Blinding perfection. Sloane arched her back, letting out a piercing shout of ecstasy. Dylan canted his hips, so close to coming it wasn’t even funny. From the sounds, and feel of it, though, Sloane wasn’t too far from the edge, either.

  “Dylan…faster. I need this…please.”

  He could do nothing but obey, working her from the inside, and the outside, as he pressed his knuckles against the hard nub of nerves between her legs. Sloane’s body instantly tensed, her head thrown back as she cried out in climax.

  Gripping her hips roughly, knowing he couldn’t stop himself even if he tried, he moved her forward and back several more times before pumping out his own release. He came hot and loud deep inside her, flooding her with his desire.

  “Baby,” he gasped, failing to find any other words to sum up his state of contentment at the moment. Sliding his hands up the smooth expanse of her back, the warmth seeping from her body into his bones. “I’ve missed you so much, Sloane.”

  Dylan snuggled his face into the side of her neck, three little words lodged in the back of his throat, trapped somewhere between his brain and his tongue – desperately trying to get out. The words that described how he truly felt about Sloane. How he couldn’t stop thinking about her. How he wanted to be with her. How he needed to be near her. How he couldn’t sleep at night knowing how far away she was from him.

  Sloane squirmed on his lap as her face turned pale, a look of genuine alarm sprung across her features. Her head swung from side to side, a sudden realization of where they were and what they’d just done in broad daylight. On a Sunday afternoon. In full view of her neighbors.

  “Um. Dylan…we, uh…” She couldn’t finish her thought as they burst out in laughter in unison. The bubble of happiness popped in the same minute as they became aware of another predicament that might trump their current exhibitionism.

  Dylan pulled back from the warmth of her body, looking down between them.

  “I didn’t wear a condom, Sloane. Shit,” he muttered, hoping and praying that they were at least protected on her end.

  Lifting his eyes back to hers, he saw exactly what he needed know. Her sweet smile reassured him that at the very least they’d deal with the consequences together. “You drive me out of my fucking mind. That has never happened to me. I’ve never forgotten to suit up.”

  Sloane slid from his lap, returning to her seat while doing her best to right her panties and clothing. She grabbed the door handle to open her car door, but swiveled her head to give him a view of her bright smile before she stepped out.

  “It’s okay. I’m protected from getting knocked up,” she said, her voice light, but with a bit of seriousness. “I need to go clean up. Then we can talk about the other implications of what just happened. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  This day could not have turned out any more differently if she had woken up on the planet Mars.

  Dylan showing up at brunch was the first surprise. And that was putting it mildly. Sloane was so stunned and caught off guard, she barely had words to convey what his appearance did to her.

  The second surprise was learning that her mother was not only aware of Dylan’s existence, but that she was now in cahoots with him. Either Dylan had charmed the living daylights out of her, or she was feeling extremely charitable over the current situation Sloane had going on in her life and decided to be a conduit.

  Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to question it, because right now, she felt too happy to question why Dylan was here with her. She just wanted to soak it up, like the sunflower basks in the sun, before he had to leave.

  Sloane listened to Dylan’s slow and measured breathing as her head lay across his chest, her naked body sidled up to his in the queen size bed that she once shared with Blaine. It felt like a million years ago already. That entire chapter of her life closed – a history lesson she’d never use in the classes she taught – but one that taught her a very hard life lesson. And now the future chapters in her book were still left unwritten – the ending uncertain.

  After she and Dylan had gone at it like horny teenagers in the front seat of her car – in broad daylight, no less – they’d managed to make it into her house with the intention of cleaning up and sitting down to talk.

  The best laid plans – and all that. Sloane had gone into her master bathroom to freshen up and when she’d stepped into her bedroom to get a clean pair of panties, Dylan was standing in her doorway, his feet rooted to the hardwood floor, looking uncertain as to whether he should come any further.

  Sloane took the choice out of his hands as she slid the straps of her sundress off her shoulders, moving slowly toward him. He captured her in his arms, hoisting her up as she flung her hands around his neck and her legs circling his waist, and he carried her over to the edge of the bed without uttering a single word.

  They’d spent hours exploring and reclaiming each other’s bodies. Relearning every sweet spot, erogenous zone, and even finding which ribs were most ticklish (hers on her right side – him, not ticklish at all). The connection between them was palpable.

  “Your thoughts are so loud I can hear you thinking.” Dylan tapped the top of her head with his knuckle.

  Sloane jerked in surprise at his voice, bumping the top of her head on the bottom of his chin.

  “Ow. You’ve also got a hard head.” Dylan gave a grunt of laughter, rubbing the spot that took the brunt of the blow.

  Shifting her body up on her elbow, she leaned in to kiss the indentation at the base of his face, his head bent to catch the kiss against his lips. Maneuvering the weight of his body, Dylan rolled on top of her and continued to make her dizzy with his mouth, working his way along her jawline, down her neck, the spot underneath her ear, her collarbone. They’d just made love twenty minutes before and yet she could feel his arousal already growing hard against her hip.

  “I’m not the only one with a hard head,” she giggled, proud of her silly play on words. That gained her a swift thrust of his hips into her happy place. God, she could she get used to more Sunday afternoons like this. Staying in bed all day with a naked Dylan.

  Sloane slid her hands around to his backside, grabbing his ass as she sunk her nails in deep. The action garnered her another hard nudge, his erection now clearly looking for admittance between her legs.

  Her body was so quick to comply to his request, even though her brain was shouting warnings to slow down. To stop for a second so they could talk. To find out why he was there and what he expected from her.

  There was so much she’d kept hidden from him, that he was in the dark about. Things she’d left unsaid, purposely, that once Dylan learned about, would cause him to look at her differently. A lie of omission is still a lie nonetheless. It scared her to think he might not believe her about the truth behind her break-up and her time away from teaching.

  And could she blame him if he got upset and wondered about her character? She hadn’t been upfront and truthful with him since she met him. And the irony behind it didn’t go unnoticed. It was because of Blaine’s dishonesty that she was in the position she was in now.

  She wanted to tell him. To let Dylan in. Because avoiding the topic and keeping the biggest thing in her life a secret was as impossible as it was wrong. She had to tell him, sooner rather than later. And she would, when the time was right.

  But right now, all she wanted was to feel his body on top of hers. Inside her. Moving in her, and making her forget how low she’d been. How Blaine’s actions made her worthless and unwanted.

  Dylan made her feel better about herself and her life. The way he touched her made everything around her disappear. All her worries over what the school board decision would prove to be and the fate of her career. None of it mattered when she was surrounded by Dylan.

  Just as he hovered over her, ready to slide into her depths, Dylan’s commanding voice told her to look at him.

  His dark hazel eyes he
ld the sentiment even before his voice expressed the words out loud.

  “I love you, Sloane. God, I am so in love with you.”

  ###

  Dylan stretched and yawned, groaning as the lengthening of his body served to unwind his tightened limbs. Sore from the excruciatingly long flight out the day before, and the acrobatic maneuvers in the bedroom over the last four hours.

  Although he ended up in her bed less than two hours after seeing Sloane again, he’d been honest when he told her he hadn’t come out to San Diego just to sleep with her again. That was simply an unexpected gift.

  What he needed to do, though, and what his plan had been all along, was to have a serious talk about what was going on in her head, and how she felt about him. About them. About their relationship and how they could keep it going.

  Long-distance wasn’t something he’d wanted when he was in the Marines. That’s why he’d never been in a relationship during that time of his life. Dylan wasn’t willing then to put in the time and effort it required to keep the home fires burning while he was overseas. He didn’t see the point.

  But with Sloane? Love was the point with her.

  He’d meant what he said when he told her exactly how he felt about her. And he wasn’t about to let things end just because they lived on opposite coasts. If it called for a sacrifice, then by God, he’d step up and make that happen. He loved her and would prove it. He was willing to sacrifice everything for her.

  So the words finally slipped from his mouth and it felt so good to give them a voice. At first, it seemed like wrong timing. It was a classic, idiotic male move to express his love at the same time he was sliding in and out of her tight body. He worried she’d think him insincere, or that he only meant it during the throes of passion.

  Dylan hadn’t known what to expect, considering he’d never told anyone that he loved them before. But he was so overcome by her presence, her scent, her body, her heart – that he couldn’t help it. So he let the words fly as he made love to her for the third time that day.

  It was almost laughable, the reaction on her face. In Sloane’s defense, she didn’t kick him out of her bed or call him a freak, but she did appear a bit stunned when he dropped the L word on her. Dylan didn’t expect her to return the sentiment immediately, but had a flash of hope that she might feel the same way toward him.

  Slightly disappointed that she didn’t say it back to him, she’d just closed her eyes tight, and let out a sound of happiness as she came all over his cock.

  Yeah, that was romantic.

  They lingered in bed for a while afterward until she decided she needed to take a shower, promising to cook him dinner. Dylan was a patient man (for the most part), and he’d wait to bring it up again before he left the following day.

  Dylan reluctantly got out of bed and found his pants that had been carelessly tossed on her bedroom floor earlier that afternoon. Stepping in and pulling them up, he zipped up and then ran a hand through his hair as he walked into the kitchen. The house had grown dark while they’d been in bed, so he flipped on some lights and grabbed a bottled water from the fridge.

  Her house was small, about the size of his own home, but it was a rambler instead of a two-story. From what he’d seen of it before rushing back to her bedroom, it had two other small bedrooms besides her master – a guestroom, and the other was a den or office. The living room was a great room design, separated by an island off the kitchen. A long, rectangular dining room table, with eight white upholstered chairs, sat near a large bay window in the front of the house. All her décor was very Pottery Barn-esque.

  Classic. Simple. Elegant.

  Just like Sloane.

  In the kitchen as Dylan waited for Sloane to finish her shower, the Sunday paper lay on her counter. He unfolded it, eager to check the sports highlights, when an article at the bottom of the front page, along with a picture, caught his attention.

  A picture of someone he was familiar with.

  He skimmed it briefly, catching a few keywords.

  Blaine Holloway.

  Sexual misconduct.

  Trial.

  Fiancée.

  Sloane Fitzgerald.

  What in the fuck?

  San Diego teacher accused of sexual relationship with student gets March trial date

  A San Diego high school teacher is scheduled to face trial March 10, over allegations he carried on a one-year sexual relationship with a student.

  Blaine Holloway, 26, was arrested January 5 and charged with three counts of sexual misconduct with a minor and two counts of sexual exploitation of a minor. The state alleges Holloway and the student, now 18, engaged in their first act over a year ago, and continued to see one another at various locations in San Diego County. Regardless of whether the sexual acts were consensual, sexual activity with a minor who is under the California Age of Consent of 18, Holloway can be prosecuted under California Sexual Abuse laws and charged with a number of crimes.

  Holloway’s fiancée, Sloane Fitzgerald, also a teacher at a different school, was not arrested, but has been questioned by authorities over what she allegedly knew about the trysts with the student and if she failed to report them to authorities. The San Diego School Board Administration declined to comment on the current status of Ms. Fitzgerald’s position, but sources say a hearing was held and she is currently on administrative leave pending outcome of the investigation.

  The paper crumpled in his tight fists as he continued reading the rest of the story. Dylan could feel the rage boiling inside him, ready to spill over the edge and erupt in a very ugly way. He vacillated between protectiveness and anger.

  His initial instinct was to find a way to keep Sloane from experiencing any further pain this situation had caused her. And yet his temper, hissing and slithering like a rattler in a box, was about to be unleashed.

  He felt duped. He’d laid it all on the line for Sloane. Flying cross country to see her again, meeting her parents. Expressing his love. And how does she repay him? By lying to him? Letting him believe that her visit to Boston, her break-up with Blaine, and her leave of absence was somehow by choice?

  So wrapped up and seeing red, Dylan hadn’t heard Sloane enter the kitchen until he felt her hands slide over the exposed skin on his back, her wet lips placing a kiss on his tatted shoulder blade. His body went rigid, his mind clouded with a resentment he’d only experienced once before in his life. When his mother walked out on him and his family.

  Sloane moved around him to the other side of the counter, her bright smile dimming as soon as she noticed the obvious outrage on his face.

  “Dylan? Is everything okay? You look –”

  He scoffed, slamming his hand down on the article in front of him.

  “I don’t know, Sloane. You tell me. Do I look like a fool? Like a fucking idiot who you’ve just been playing around with? Because it’s obvious you don’t hold me in very high regard, otherwise you’d have trusted me with the truth.”

  Sloane’s look of confusion was quickly replaced with something entirely different as Dylan slid the newspaper over for her to read. She threw her hand up to cover the gasp from her mouth, but the sound was as loud as a backfiring diesel truck.

  “Oh my God, Dylan…I…you don’t…it’s not…”

  Dylan wasn’t in the mood to hear any excuses. He only gave people one chance. If they messed up, that was it. And in his mind, Sloane just lost his trust.

  “You lied to me, Sloane. You’ve kept this from me. All of it,” he seethed, his temple scrunching in the beginnings of a migraine. “You’re obviously pretty good at covering things up, since you’ve had so much experience with it. And all this time I didn’t think I was good enough for you, lil’ Miss Susie Sunshine. But apparently, you’re just as tarnished as the rest of us. You’re no better than anyone else, are you, Sloane?”

  Not realizing the level of his anger, Sloane stepped in front of him, placing her small, shaking hands on his biceps.

  “Please Dylan.
No…you don’t understand. Please let me explain.”

  Dylan gave her a violent shrug, pushing her hands off his arms as he took a giant step back and turned to head toward her bedroom.

  “I think you’ve had plenty of time to explain over the last two months, don’t you, Sloane? You’ve just proven to me exactly how you feel about me. I’m just nobody to you. Definitely not someone you’d share your life with. So it’s too late for explanations now.”

  He waved his hands in the air, trying desperately to drown out the sound of her tears and remove the image of her sad, disgraced face from his mind for good.

  “I don’t know what I was thinking coming out here. I’m done.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Three Weeks later

  Sloane held the letter in her hands, examining the envelope like she was conducting an autopsy. She could provide the exact dimensions of the tri-folded sheet of paper, but had no idea what the contents of the letter might actually say.

  All she knew was that regardless of what it said – or the ramifications on her teaching career – the result was that the entire ordeal had changed her life. Irrevocably. It forced her to reexamine what she thought was true, reassess her values, and consider alternatives that she may or may not have ever considered prior to this.

  The phone beside her contained several unread texts (two from Trista and one from her mother), along with a voicemail message from her attorney. Two weeks had gone by since Dylan had left. One week she’d given her statements to the District Attorney. She was informed that no charges would be drawn up against her, but she needed to remain available if anything new should arise.

  News vans and reporters were still camped outside her house but had finally started to pack up and leave a few days ago, finally giving her some sense of normalcy.