by Marian Tee
****
Dylan tossed back his fourth shot of whiskey, the liquor burning its way down his throat. But its heat couldn’t compare to the fiery sensation residing in the pit of stomach – a sick sensation that had stayed with him since he had learned Bree hated his guts.
But being a fucking masochist, here he was, in the same hotel hosting the senior prom for Bree’s school. Thinking about Bree in the arms of a boy from her class – some fresh-faced jerk who would do his best to take her virginity in his backseat – made him clench his teeth hard.
With a muttered curse, he swung away from the one-way window of his VIP suite which overlooked the entire lobby of the hotel.
He lowered himself to the couch and grabbed the pen and paper from the coffee table. Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate on making more music, but nothing came to him.
He heard the door open. “You went to Bree, didn’t you?” He had known just by looking at Ariadne’s face earlier that she had planned to plead his case with her. He had also known it wouldn’t make a fucking difference.
No girl would willingly take someone back when that same person couldn’t even say sorry—
“Yes, she did.” The voice, shaky but beautiful and familiar, made Dylan suck his breath in. He twisted around in his seat, wondering if missing Bree so much had made him start hearing things.
But it really was her.
She looked like a goddess of seduction in her red silk and lace dress. It had a full skirt at the back and an extremely short layered skirt in front. Combined with her lipstick-red stilettos, it looked like she had her entire legs on display.
Bree looked exquisite, but what made him feel like someone had sucker-punched him was her eyes.
She looked like she still loved him.
When Dylan’s face whitened, Bree knew that he understood what she was unable to say. Terror – the paralyzing fear of rejection – had negated her ability to speak and all she could do was look at him and plead with her eyes.
After what she had learned from Ariadne, she didn’t care about what she had seen – what millions of people had seen. They thought they knew and understood what was going on, but they didn’t. Even she didn’t – hadn’t – known the truth. And now that she did, Bree no longer cared that he still hadn’t said sorry or that - if it was up to Dylan – he would never ask her to take him back.
When he didn’t speak, tension apparent in his profile, Bree knew it was up to her to take the next step. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t say no. Now that she understood where he was coming from, she knew that all these years he had been trying his hardest to distance himself from her.
Swallowing, she whispered, “Dylan, could you please—”
When he swore, it was like a knife in her heart and she was unable to speak. He was going to rebuff her. He didn’t want her. She lowered her head, not wanting him to see how his refusal was killing her.
She struggled to breathe, struggled to be strong and figure out how to survive.
“Bree?”
Oh God, he was standing right in front of her!
What did he want now? To twist the knife in deeper? Wanted her to see up close how unwilling he was to take a risk on her—
“Bree, please.”
She shook her head without raising her gaze to meet his. “No.”
“Bree—” His voice broke.
It undid her, the way he sounded like he needed her more than she needed him. Slowly, she lifted her gaze—
In the next second, he was kissing her.
Dylan was kissing her.
The rock star she had loved so long was kissing her.
With a shaky sob, Bree wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
Chapter Four
Her first kiss.
It seemed ironic that in the four years she had been in the company of the world’s most promiscuous rock star, Bree was only having her first kiss now.
But she wasn’t complaining – not when it was Dylan giving Bree her first kiss.
His hands cupped her face like she was the most precious thing he had ever held. His lips were warm as they covered hers again and again, each kiss deeper and lovelier than the rest.
Dylan was still shaking, a part of him still reeling from the reality of having Bree in his arms. After everything he had done, she was still here. After everything, she had come to him—
He lifted his head to look down at her. “Bree…”
She looked up at him like he was everything she had wished for, and it made Dylan want to curse again – wanted to curse himself because, goddammit, he wanted that to be true.
But it wasn’t.
“I love you.”
She started to cry.
He wanted to wipe the tears from her eyes, wanted to kiss them away, wanted to promise that everything was going to be all right again. But he did not. Because he was a bastard, would always be a bastard, and he needed her to understand that.
“Dylan, I—”
“No. I need to…”
“I know.”
The words rendered him immobile, the meaning behind it throwing Dylan into an abyss of the darkest memories – the kind that he had spent so many years trying to bury into obscurity.
Bree forced herself to meet his gaze even if it meant that for just a few seconds, she would need to unman him, forcing him to face the truth of his past. “I know…I know that when you were young, your mother forced you and your dad to watch her…”
Her words slashed him, forcing Dylan to once more face the hideous truth of his past.
In that instant, he was no longer Dylan Charbonneau, the rock star every girl loved and the rock star who loved every girl who came his way.
In that instant, he was young Dylan, forced by dysfunctional parents to learn – to fucking experience – just how repulsive adultery could be.
A father with a borderline obsession…
A mother with schizophrenia…
It was a match made in hell and he had lived in that hell almost his entire life, with so many nights spent sleeping on couches of his friends’ homes, in night clubs – anywhere but home, where his mother would force both Dylan and his dad to watch her copulate with her lovers.
Soft hands cupped his face and he gasped, his eyes dilated. He didn’t realize he hadn’t been breathing all this time.
“Dylan, it’s okay,” she whispered, her heart crying for the pain she saw in his face.
“It’s not okay,” he grated out. “I’m fucked up – I’ll always be fucked up and that’s why I can’t ever be the man—”
“But you already are.”
Words failed him at the emotions shining in her eyes.
“I already love you, I’ve loved you since that first day, and I won’t ever stop,” Bree whispered achingly.
With a groan, he hauled her into his arms. He didn’t think he could ever let her go after those words.
She kept saying I love you, her voice soothing, comforting him like a child even though he had been a bastard to her. It made tears sting his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to cry like a fucking child. Even back then – the tears had stopped early.
“Stop,” he whispered, kissing her hair, inhaling its fragrance – that beautiful scent he had missed so damn much all this time she had been gone from his life. “Please, babe, stop,” he said hoarsely, knowing he didn’t deserve her love.
“I love you,” she said fiercely, tiptoeing to hug him more tightly. “And I’m going to make you realize that your past doesn’t—”
He bit out, “Schizophrenia is genetic. Even my father’s obsessive personality has a genetic factor—”
“But you’re not them. I’ve been with you for four years, and you haven’t hurt me until—” She faltered.
He knew she was remembering the video and at that moment, he would have given his life up if it meant erasing the pain he had made her feel.
“I’m sorry, Bree.” He sa
id the words with quiet and complete humility, knowing it would never be enough – nothing would ever be enough to make it up to her.
Stroking her petal soft cheek, still slightly wet from her tears, he said grimly, “I’ve always loved you.”
She let out a watery chuckle. “It’s not a death wish to love me.”
“It is,” he said seriously. “For you.” He expelled his breath heavily. “I’m not the man you need – the man you deserve. I’m too messed up. I will always love you, but I won’t – I will never let my guard down completely with you. I’ll do everything possible to prevent myself from depending too much on you. I—”
“—love you, too,” she finished passionately. “That’s the only thing that’s important.”
He closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him. “What did I do to ever deserve someone like you, Bree?”
“You loved me without the words.” Tears clogged her voice, making her choke. “You loved me in every way possible except for the words and the kisses.”
He bent down, kissing her, his tongue sweetly then boldly sweeping inside, making her gasp. Another first kiss of a different kind, and it was beyond beautiful. It was almost transcendental, changing every cell in her being, transforming her from a girl into a woman – his woman.
When he lifted his head again, Dylan had to smile in complete, manly satisfaction. He loved the dreamy expression on Bree’s face – she wasn’t the type to look like that and knowing that he had been the one to put that expression on her face…
It tempted him to just sweep her off her feet and take her body the way he had always dreamt about.
But he couldn’t.
Or at least, not yet.
“Give me five minutes, babe.”
Her eyes widened in confusion. “Why?”
“I have a prom to attend.”
She got all choked up when she understood what he was saying. “We don’t have to—”
“I missed your graduation. I’ll always hate myself for that, but this one I won’t miss. Not one special event in your life, babe. Never again.”
It took him less than five minutes to shower and dress up and when he came out of the bedroom, hair still wet, he asked, “This okay?”
Seated on one of the plush high-backed stools in the suite’s wine bar, Bree looked up from the magazine she was reading – or at least, was trying to read when all she wanted to do was relive the past few minutes over and over in her mind.
Dylan was gazing at her questioningly, looking utterly gorgeous in a silver and black three-piece suit, the kind that screamed rock god and billionaire at the same time. Only few men could ever carry this look as brilliantly as Dylan did, and the sight of him took her breath away.
He raised a brow. “That good?” Arrogant, wicked, playful – it was the Dylan she had first met and fallen in love with.
She gave him a small nod.
“Hey,” he exclaimed, a bit surprised. In a few strides, he reached her side and knelt in front of Bree. Tipping her chin up so he could look into her lovely brown eyes, Dylan asked, “Are you shy?”
She shrugged.
He leaned back a little to take a better look at her face. Seeing that, she tried to turn away, but he didn’t let her. A smile curved on his lips. “You are shy.” It was cute – and hot, and for a moment Dylan regretted promising going to the prom with her.
But the moment passed quickly enough, the need to atone for his past mistakes overpowering his selfish desires.
She hated and loved the look of arrogance on Dylan’s face. Grumbling, she lied, “I’m not shy.” She made a show of checking her bracelet watch. “Are we still going or what?”
Laughing, Dylan surprised her by sweeping her up, making Bree shriek.
“Let’s go, Cinderella.”
“I’m nothing like Cinderella!”
“Yes, you are,” he countered. “When midnight strikes—”
“I’ll lose my lovely dress?”
He looked at her, the glitter of desire in his gaze making her shiver. “Not just your dress,” he said huskily, “—but your virginity, too.”
“Dylan!”
She was still red-faced by the time they reached the elevator, unable to believe that Dylan, who used to be so careful about treating her like a friend that he just liked to flirt with, was now saying something so…explicit.
Dylan only gazed at her, the gleam in his eyes mocking her. He was Dylan Charbonneau. Did she really think that was the dirtiest thing he could say?
Fortunately, she was saved from defending herself when the doors slid open and the uniformed attendant welcomed them in, his eyes widening at the sight of Dylan carrying a girl in his arms.
“Put me down,” she hissed.
“G-good evening, ma’am, Mr. Charbonneau.” The younger guy was trying very hard not to stare.
“Dylan!”
He let her down slowly but didn’t let go. Instead, he captured her face and kissed her.
She tried to struggle, conscious that they weren’t alone, but Dylan pushed her back against the elevator’s wall instead, kissing her more passionately.
Bree couldn’t count how many kisses she had by now, but all she knew was that each kiss just made her feel more and more drawn to Dylan. Passion won over inhibitions and with a little sigh, she clutched the lapels of his evening jacket, using it to keep her upright. The way his tongue was playing with hers, teasing and seducing her, was seriously threatening her balance.
When he let her go, she could only stare up at him, wondering why the kiss had to end.
The attendant cleared his throat. “Lobby now.”
Bree’s head snapped towards the other occupant in the elevator, totally forgetting the attendant’s presence. Oh God! Had she just—
Putting an arm around her waist possessively, Dylan appeared completely unbothered by their extremely public display of affection. “Thanks, man,” he said with an easy grin.
The lines between flirtation and friendliness were often blurred when it came to Dylan and women. It was a fact that bothered her a lot, but Bree knew the trait was also responsible for how approachable he was when it came to his fans.
Dylan smirked when he caught Bree staring at him, and the message behind it was patently clear. You really can’t get enough of me?
She wanted to groan. Now that he knew – really knew how much she loved him, was Dylan really going to be like this all the time?
Two hours later, and she knew that the answer to her question was yes.
Throughout the evening, Dylan had been at his most arrogant – and sweetest. One moment, he would crook his finger from across the dance floor, not saying a word, demanding that she come to him. Most times, that would be when she had found herself cornered by guys, all of them totally smitten with her transformation overnight from tomboyish dork to seductive siren. Other times, he would act impossibly affectionate, twining his fingers with Bree’s as he spoke charmingly to the girls who came on to him even with her around.
She had wanted to be jealous during those times – she really wanted to, but how could she be when he would keep touching her, twirling her hair around his fingers, squeezing her hand in his. It was as if he was silently comforting her, reminding her that although he wouldn’t stop being his flirtatious self, his heart would always belong to her.
And that was enough for her, Bree told herself. It had to be. She had no choice.
Before midnight struck, Dylan had already made sure they were saying their goodbyes. Most had bid them goodbye happily enough, if not in an awestruck way, except for Lindsay Ellis, who had been crowned prom queen.
“Don’t leave,” Lindsay begged, shamelessly brushing her barely-there breasts against Dylan’s other side. She had the kind of body Bree secretly envied, mostly because stick-thin figures would look good in any kind of outfit.
“We’re just getting started. There are lots of after-prom parties, more fun—”
Dylan said with a smile
, “Perhaps next time, but tonight we really have to go.”
Lindsay pouted. “What’s the hurry?”
“We have plans.”
“Like what?”
Dylan’s patience, normally longer than most, stretched to its breaking point. Without losing his smile, he said very clearly, “Because I have a girlfriend to fuck.”
Lindsay gaped. Everyone gaped except Bree, who let out a long moan – and which Dylan immediately cut off with a kiss, the kind that did not hide the fact how much he desired her.
When he allowed her to breathe and regain her senses, Bree sputtered, “You—”
“—prefer to have you moan only in my presence and not anywhere else,” he finished smoothly, pulling her to his side. “Now, come along. I’ve been waiting to have you for years. Don’t make me wait a second longer.”
The moment they got inside the elevator, which was fortunately empty this time, he pulled her to him, backed her against the wall, and kissed her.
Passion kept simmering for four years exploded to life as their lips met. He was devouring her. It was the only way to perfectly describe the way he took and took and took and made her want to yield and yield and yield. With a little cry, Bree sank against him, lips parting so that his tongue would take her mouth – she wanted him to take her, in every way, forever.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, and Dylan groaned when she pressed her breasts close to his chest while her legs wrapped more tightly around his waist.
“You taste better than I’ve ever dreamt,” he rasped against her lips before kissing his way down, wanting to know if the feel and taste of her skin, of the rest of her body, was also better than what he had imagined.
Bree’s skin was soft and fragrant, making his balls ache painfully because they were near to bursting. He wished he could fuck her now, with the way his cock was throbbing so badly. But he knew anticipation would make their union sweeter and, more than that, he wanted Bree to experience the sweetest pleasure in his arms.
