Paige’s hands anchored in his hair as she went from being the one controlling the kiss to the one being controlled. Dylan’s kiss went from wow to ohmygod in less than a second. He kissed, he tasted, he devoured, and Paige was more than willing to be devoured.
For hours at a time.
When his lips left hers to lick the shell of her ear—she really liked that—and her throat, she let her head fall back as she fought to catch her breath.
“Come home with me,” she panted. “Please. Please, Dylan.”
He bit her gently and then soothed that tender spot with his talented tongue and she was certain they were on the same page. She ran a quick checklist in her head: Bed made? Check. Bedroom clean? Check. Legs shaved? Check. If she could just get him to the car…
Dylan lifted his head, and she could feel his entire body practically vibrating. Good. She wanted—no, needed him like that. Turned on and unable to say no. Playing the seductress was so not her thing, and she had never been sexually aggressive, but everything about this man brought that out in her.
“Paige,” he said breathlessly.
“Yes?” This was it!
“I… We can’t do this.”
Say what?
“What do you mean we can’t do this? We already are doing this!” It was pointless to pretend she wasn’t pissed off. There was only so much a girl on the verge of climbing a man could take!
Dylan took a step away. And then another. And another. He raked a hand through his hair, making it stand on end, and even that managed to look sexy on him!
The bastard!
“Look, I think lines are getting blurred,” he began. “We talked about this, Paige. I told you why we can’t get involved.”
“And you know that, to the world, it’s going to look like that already. I don’t see why we can’t take advantage of this situation. It’s obvious we’re attracted to each other. I don’t see what the big deal is!”
He studied her for a long moment and Paige wanted to walk up to him and shake him.
But she didn’t.
“Because you deserve better than this,” he said, his voice void of emotion. “You deserve better than a fake relationship with someone like me. Trust me.”
“Dylan…wait…”
But he didn’t. He turned and walked away, and Paige watched him go.
There was a part of her that said to run after him and make him see that he was wrong. But the logical, regular part of her told her to respect his wishes and let it go.
With a weary sigh, she collected her things and made her way out of the studio. She stopped at the front office and thanked the receptionist on her way out. As the warm afternoon sun hit her face, Paige reached in her bag for her sunglasses and slipped them on.
And then stood on the sidewalk and contemplated what to do next.
She didn’t have errands to run, and she didn’t want to go into the office. She could drive around the city, but traffic was always a nightmare, so that wouldn’t be a relaxing endeavor either. Pulling out her phone, she checked the time. Three o’clock. There was always… Nothing. There was nothing she wanted to do. No hot yoga, no Zumba, no spinning class. Then she laughed at herself because it had easily been six months since she’d been to the gym, so why even consider those activities?
“Because I have way too much pent-up energy and need to do something with it,” she murmured and walked to her car. Inside, she started the car, turned on the air, and still tried to think of what to do. She didn’t want to go home. Home was where she had hoped to be with Dylan right now.
Dylan.
Why did he have to be so difficult? Why did he have to choose to be a good guy with her? Why couldn’t he just hold on to those bad-boy morals a little bit longer?
Who was she kidding? She liked Dylan exactly the way he was. Thinking back to their first meeting, she realized how much her feelings for him had transformed. His looks were always something she admired, but the more she got to know him, the more she saw beyond the sexy rock-star looks and saw a man with a kind heart who still struggled with far too many demons. And who could blame him? That tabloid story about him had to be painful for him. Here he was doing everything he could to change his public image, and on his first real outing, someone had to take him down.
Paige silently prayed there was video of Morgan’s drunken walk from the hotel with another man. Though the footage of her and Dylan going into the elevator would be more than enough proof that he hadn’t done any of the things he’d been accused of, she wanted to inflict some pain on Morgan too.
Wow. Who was she all of a sudden? She had never been a spiteful or vindictive woman. And she’d never been one to stand up for herself or for…
She’d stood up for Dylan.
Her heart kicked hard in her chest. Yes, she had stood up for him to her father and his manager, to defend him—his character. The look on her father’s face had been one flash of disbelief before he’d schooled his reaction and kept it strictly professional. Talking to her father about her sex life had never come up and should have been a pretty big roadblock to admitting she was with Dylan.
But it hadn’t.
Today she had broken through so many of her own obstacles, so why was she quitting now? Why, when she was so close to having what she wanted from Dylan, had she let him walk away?
“Because he doesn’t want me,” she said, banging her head on the seat. “Well, he does. But not enough to take the risk.”
A soft gasp came out as the thought took hold.
He’s afraid.
And who could blame him? Look at what had happened with Morgan, and she had a feeling Dylan didn’t have a whole lot of reason to trust anyone right now. Hadn’t she just said he was fighting his own demons? What if intimacy, sex, relationships were part of those demons? Why couldn’t she be the one to show him there were still good people in the world and how it was okay to take a risk?
“Sure, one stupid confession in front of Dad and all of a sudden I’m the poster girl for taking risks?” she said with a snort. And then she thought about it. “Why can’t I be that poster girl?”
And that was exactly what she was going to be.
Brave.
Bold.
And hopefully…very satisfied.
It took her an hour to get to the hotel; she made one stop for a quick wardrobe change, and traffic had been a complete pain. Then she had circled the block three times to give herself one last pep talk.
You can do this.
She wanted Dylan. She wanted to help Dylan. But more than anything, she needed Dylan.
You can do this.
Pulling the car up to the valet, she grabbed her ticket, climbed out, and walked determinedly into the lobby. While her immediate thought was to go right up to his room, she realized she was thoroughly unprepared. With a quick look around, she spotted the gift shop and ran in for a few necessities—breath mints and condoms. She paid and slipped the bag into her purse before heading to the concierge desk. There she told them exactly what she needed and gave them Dylan’s room number and asked for it to be brought up in an hour.
That was enough time, wasn’t it?
“Make that two hours,” she said with a shy smile and was thrilled when the woman behind the desk simply smiled and nodded.
Feeling confident, she strode to the elevators and was fortunate enough to have one arrive seemingly just for her.
Three minutes later, she was standing at Dylan’s door.
She knocked and held her breath.
He pulled open the door and the ability to speak simply deserted her. His shirt was open, his shoes were off, and his hair was still a glorious mess.
He was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.
“Don’t say a word,” she said when he went to speak. “I heard everything you said earlier and I r
emember everything you said to me last Saturday night. I’m not asking you for some sort of long-term commitment. I’m not even asking you for a serious relationship. All I know is that when I’m with you…I feel…everything. You make me feel so much, Dylan. I look at you and I’m not seeing the celebrity with a troubled past—I’m seeing you. The man. The one who plays chess and brings me turkey sandwiches. The one who went food shopping with me and held me up while I walked around in those ridiculous shoes. That’s the man I see. The one I want.”
She saw him swallow hard as he stood in the doorway and she stepped in close, pressing her body against his.
“You can tell me to leave. You can tell me it’s all a mistake.” She leaned in and kissed his chest. His magnificent, tattooed chest. “But tell it to me later. Please.”
He let out an audible groan as he hauled her into the suite and slammed the door shut.
Thank God! she thought.
* * *
Relief, pure and simple, swamped him.
The entire drive to the hotel had him questioning everything: Was leaving the right choice? Was he wrong for walking away from something that could be incredible because of previous bad decisions? How long was he supposed to keep punishing himself? Wasn’t he entitled to some happiness? And now that Paige was here and in his arms and wrapped around him like she was afraid to let go, he had his answer.
Yes.
Yes, dammit. He deserved to have a little happiness.
He had to admit, the sight of her standing in his doorway had floored him. From everything he had learned about Paige over the past month, she had not seemed like someone who actively went after what she wanted. She accepted other people’s decisions and went on with her life—even if she didn’t agree with it. After all, she certainly didn’t fight for her position at work where their campaign was concerned. So that could only mean one thing:
She really wanted him.
Reaching down, he cupped her ass and lifted her. Those wonderfully sexy legs of hers wrapped around him, and he had to fight the urge to take her against the wall. Although…
“Bed,” she said, lifting her lips from his. Lips that were wet and red and swollen from the force of their kisses. “I’ve been dreaming about being in that bed with you.”
Her honesty was probably the biggest turn-on of all.
Turning with her still in his arms, he strode to the bedroom and lowered her onto the bed. He meant to stand up, to strip his shirt off, but Paige was having none of that. Her legs tightened, effectively holding him to her, and he had to admit the position had promise.
“Take your shirt off,” she said as she began pushing it off his shoulders. “I want to kiss and lick and touch all your tattoos.” Then she let out a sexy giggle as she looked up and met his eyes. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”
This girl.
Because she was turning him inside out, he was willing to do whatever she wanted, give her whatever she wanted.
This time, when he went to pull away, she let him. Dylan quickly stripped off his shirt and sent it flying. Paige’s hands were on his chest before the garment even hit the floor. Her hands were smooth and hot and felt so good that he groaned with pleasure. When was the last time anything had felt this good? When was the last time he had gotten this turned on by the touch of a woman’s hand? His eyes closed and his head fell back while he allowed her to explore him.
He was straddling her, and all he could think of was how much he wanted to reverse their positions. While he had been more than willing to let Paige take the lead so far, he just… He needed to do this. Now.
In the blink of an eye, he slid his hands under her back and rolled them until she was the one straddling him. Her swishy little skirt bunched up, and he had to fight to keep his hands from sliding underneath it. Instead, he looked at her, met her heated gaze, and said, “Now you can kiss and lick and touch all you want.”
And holy hell did she.
Her hands roamed his torso, his arms, and then rested on his chest. Her lips—God, those soft, wet lips!—kissed the trail her hands had set. Dylan reached out and anchored his hands into her hair because now that he had her here, there was no way he was ready to let her go.
It had been too long—too damn long—since he’d been so consumed with need, with want. And if he allowed himself to think back, Dylan knew it had been years since anything sexual had felt remotely like this. Back then, his senses had been dulled by alcohol. But this? What was happening right now in this very PG-rated encounter was better than any porn he’d ever seen.
And that took his mind to a whole other level.
“Paige?” he asked huskily.
She lifted her head from his chest and looked at him, her expression dazed.
“What are you wearing under this skirt?”
A slow smile played at her lips and he watched as her hands lowered to the hem of the garment and then slowly slid it up. And…
“Those are… I mean…they’re not…”
Running her hand over her thighs as she lifted her skirt ever so much higher, she let out a sexy little moan. “They’re thigh-high stockings.”
His mouth seriously began to water. “Were you… Do you normally…?”
“I bought them on my way here,” she said softly.
He tore his eyes from the sight of her thighs and looked up at her. “You did?”
She nodded. “I was thinking…well, hoping…”
Dylan reached up and cupped her cheek. “What? What were you hoping for, Paige?”
“I hoped you’d like them. That you’d see them and…not want me to leave.”
He inhaled deeply. “Baby, I don’t want you to leave. And it has nothing to do with these sexy stockings.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled at him, the relief on her face was obvious. “So you like them?”
He grinned as he nodded. “Oh, I like them all right. I like them a lot. And…I think I want you to keep them on for a while.”
A breathy little “oh” was her only response.
“Promise me something,” he said gently, his tone going serious.
“Anything.”
“Promise me you’ll wear these when we’re working, like at a public appearance or maybe at a meeting. The thought of you having these on under your skirt and knowing I can reach out and touch you…”
She hissed out a breath and ground herself against him.
So fucking sexy.
And then he did it—he reached out and touched her, and it was better than he imagined. “Yeah. I want to know I can touch this soft skin of your thighs and no one will know but me.”
“Dylan,” she panted, still wiggling, still grinding.
“Tell me, Paige. Tell me what you want. Tell me.”
“I want you to stop talking and touch me. Everywhere. Now. Please.”
His hands inched higher and touched the soft lace of her panties. “Well…since you said please…”
He didn’t stop talking. In fact, his words got dirtier and his hands got way more involved. And judging by the way she cried out his name, Dylan knew he was giving her exactly what she wanted.
* * *
If this was what it was like to go after what you wanted, Paige was seriously rethinking how she currently was living her life.
When she’d shown up at Dylan’s room, she wasn’t sure how it was all going to play out. Turns out, it was better than anything she could have ever imagined. Never before in her life had she been more thankful than she was right now that she had gone after what she wanted.
Turning her head, she looked over at Dylan and had to suppress a proud grin.
He was on his back—his body slick with sweat, and he was still trying to catch his breath.
Yeah. She’d done that to him.
As soon as he had p
ulled her into his suite, Paige knew she was out of her element. The men she had slept with in the past were far more…reserved where sex was concerned. It had always been pleasant but not passionate. Dylan’s hands and lips and body oozed passion.
And she wanted it again.
Tentatively, she reached out and touched his hand.
“If this is part of your evil plan to kill me so I’m out of the campaign, I give up,” he said breathlessly, and Paige couldn’t help but laugh.
Laughing while in bed after sex? Who was she?
“First of all, killing you would be a bad thing.”
“Don’t look good in orange?”
She swatted playfully at his arm. “No…I mean, I don’t look good in orange, but that’s not the reason.”
“You enjoy your freedom?”
His playful side was something she loved about him. Scooting closer, she placed her hand on his stomach and waited for him to face her. “I enjoy you.”
There must have been a million thoughts going through his brain because she could see in his eyes that he wanted to say something but didn’t. It was okay. She wasn’t fishing for compliments. She wanted to let him know how she felt.
“Dylan,” she began softly. “This has been the greatest afternoon for me. Maybe I should have respected your wishes and kept my distance and kept things professional between us, but…”
Reaching out, he placed a finger over her lips. “I’m glad you didn’t listen to me. All week, I’ve been going crazy.” He paused. “Actually, that’s not true.”
Her heart sank.
Oh God. What if this was like…pity sex? Pulling her hand from his body, Paige immediately began to think of how she was going to get up and get dressed and leave while she had a trace of her dignity still intact.
Grabbing her hand back, Dylan held it against his chest, over his heart. “Paige, you’ve been making me crazy—in a good way—almost since we met,” he said solemnly. “I meant what I said to you last week—you deserve so much more than I can give you. You deserve a man who doesn’t have so much baggage and who isn’t so…”
One More Promise Page 16
