by Lisa Swallow
I have my head down, hair falling into my face in an attempt to avoid the cameras so when Dylan spins me around I’m caught unaware. He circles an arm around my waist and pulls me to his hips. With the other hand, he holds the back of my head and digs his fingers into my hair. My mouth opens to protest and is greeted with his lips pressing firmly on mine and his tongue pushing into my mouth. I place both my hands on his chest to shove him away, embarrassed by his public display.
He feels the tension in my arms and stops, whispering in my ear. “You are exactly the girl Dylan Morgan should be seen kissing. Give them their picture and let’s go.”
Dylan rests his head on mine, and amidst the chaos and shouting round, only he exists. The darkened eyes of the man who stole my heart and soul when we hid in Broadbeach are here with me now, and we’re completely unhidden.
Giving him one of my ‘you win’ looks, I tiptoe and wrap my arms around his neck, placing my lips on his. The warmth and taste of Dylan does exactly the same as always and I spin back to the edge of his universe; the one we now belong in. I dig my fingers into his hair, holding him close, and we kiss as if we need each other to breathe. When he pulls away, the cool air fills the gap between our lips and I’m back in the world of flashing cameras and demanding voices. Dylan doesn’t need to say anymore, to the media or me. Despite my annoyance at him putting me through this, I understand.
This final step into each other’s worlds is needed, but when we get back to Bristol, he’ll find out this works both ways.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sky
Onto my third cup of coffee in half an hour, I flick through the news channels catching up on the news before I go to the hospital.
“Up already? Aren’t you tired after last night?” asks Dylan from the bedroom doorway.
I gesture at my coffee mug in response as I take in the, ‘I’ll never get fed up of taking in’, sight of Dylan in just his jeans, the muscular lines of his chest, those abs, and that line of hair disappearing into… I blink.
“Aren’t you cold?” I throw him a discarded t-shirt from last night’s sofa sex (or was that this morning?)
“I’m tired. Are you going to the hospital already?”
“You know I am; I can’t miss visiting hours,” I say defensively.
Dylan pulls the t-shirt on, mussing his hair as he does. How can Dylan look as sexy getting dressed as he does getting undressed? “I know, sorry. Do you want me to come with you?”
I shake my head. “No way. I’ll tell the press outside to wait for you to come out later, should I?”
“Seriously? They’re still out there?”
A week back at my flat and the press presence is thinning. “Some of them have gone, I think they got bored.”
“They’re not the only ones.”
“Go back to the Morgan Mansion then!”
“Not until you’re ready.” We have this conversation daily and my answer is always the same. Of course, I want to move out of this crappy flat and take time out with Dylan to plan our next moves, but not yet.
“When Tara gets better, then I’ll go wherever you want. I’ll even let you pay.”
Dylan straightens. “Anywhere?”
“Anywhere.” I hope I know what I’m agreeing to.
“And do anything?”
“Within reason, Dylan.”
He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. “Like I’d make you do something, you don’t want to do! Indulge me; I’ve worked years for my holiday.”
Bizarre. Most people would see being in a famous rock band one long holiday, although I’ve seen the reality. Dylan’s current holiday destination is my crappy flat in Bristol sitting around while I visit my friend in hospital. I guess I owe him.
I wander over and slide a cold hand under his t-shirt. He winces as I run a finger down his stomach. “I’m going to see Tara. Clean up the flat while I’m gone,” I say and giggle. “Then you can pick me up from the hospital later.”
“Cheeky!” He slaps my backside as I turn and leave the flat, smiling at the normality in my world which will never be normal again.
****
Before Tara, hospitals were somewhere I rarely visited. Now the nurses, and even the cleaners, on her ward know me by my first name. Probably my connection to Dylan aids in that, but feeling ‘part of the family’ on an ICU isn’t a positive thing.
Tara woke up briefly while I was in the States, a big step in the right direction. She’s still heavily sedated and isn’t conscious often, and they haven’t been able to fully assess her brain for damage yet. This mars the huge relief I feel.
Today, our old school crowd arranged to get together and visit Tara. I promised Dylan I wouldn’t stay all day and he said he’d pick me up this afternoon, mostly because he doesn’t believe I’ll leave. Fair enough, because I do lose track of time when I’m at the hospital.
School friends, unfortunately, include Grant. Chloe and Simon hang around longer and we head to the hospital cafeteria for lunch. We sit and chat like we were back in the school cafe, rewinding our lives to back then. Reminiscing about teachers and teenage parties brought the old world closer as we passed a couple of hours, lost in memories. I rarely see them now I’m not with Grant. We used to go out with Chloe and Simon to pub quizzes, and spent a couple of holidays together in Ibiza. She’s cut her long hair into a bob, and Simon has put weight on. Despite the past being with us, we’re clearly different people now. The gap left by Tara is felt.
Time passes quicker than we realise, and my phone beeps alerting me to a message from Dylan. This is the cue for others to check their phones and the goodbyes follow. There’s something bittersweet in the fact we’ll catch up again next weekend, sit together with Tara if we manage to sneak past the nurses who only allow two of us at a time by her bed. We’re already organising a party for when she comes home because she will come home. She’s out of danger and time will tell what happens next.
Chloe kisses me goodbye, her bob sweeping my cheek as she does. Simon grins, hands in his pockets, unsure whether physical contact is appropriate, as usual. I hesitate. If I hug him, will Grant expect me to touch him too? Hugs for both guys? When Chloe wraps her arms around each of them with a peck on the cheek, I remain seated, suddenly aware we’re not school friends and life is a hell of a lot different.
When Grant doesn’t stand and waves them off, I groan inwardly and text Dylan, asking him to meet me outside. Left alone with Grant in a quiet corner of the hospital cafeteria, I brace myself for whatever is coming.
“Do you need a lift home?” he asks, as I put my phone down.
“No, Dylan’s coming for me.”
A muscle in Grant’s cheek twitches. “It’s true then? You and him still together?”
“Yes. Why? What’s it to you?”
When you’ve spent the majority of your teenage life, and then most of your adult life with someone, they’re not difficult to read. Apart from when they’re having affairs with mystery blondes apparently, but anyway. I know exactly what is whirring in Grant’s brain from the soft and sorry expression in his face.
“Don’t even say the words,” I mutter.
“I made a mistake, Sky.”
“You’re damn right you did! But thank you for stopping me making an even bigger one!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We weren’t happy really, were we? Our relationship was just a habit like wearing a comfortable pair of jeans that we couldn’t bother replacing. Better this happened now than later.”
Grant twists his empty coffee cup in his hands. “I miss you. Seeing Tara, it made me realise what I’d lost too.”
I sink back in my seat. “Didn’t we have this conversation in August? Can you remember what I said then?”
Grant gives a small smile. “I think it was along the lines of ‘go fuck yourself’.”
“Well, there you go. Why ask again?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I thought you might f
eel the same. You could’ve changed your mind.”
I can’t decide whether he’s arrogant or stupid or both even to contemplate that I’d want him back. “I’m with Dylan now.”
“How long for? You don’t really think the fantasy will last?” he eyes me warily.
“Don’t,” I warn.
“Sky, people get through stuff like what happened with us. Maybe I had to do what I did to realise what I had was better.”
“Oh, my God! Are you saying you screwed a girl to make our relationship stronger? You’re an idiot!” There are a few different words I could use, but I bite them back.
Grant reaches across the table and touches my hand. “Five years is a long time, Sky. I can’t switch off how I feel.”
I snatch my hand back. “You were doing a good job when I saw you in our bed with someone else!”
“I made a mistake!” He drags his hand through his short brown hair. “As soon as you left, I knew that.”
“And as soon as I left, I knew we were over long before this happened. Be honest, Grant.”
Grant’s green eyes have looked into mine over the years, but never in the same way Dylan’s do, and hold something different to Dylan even now. What does Grant really feel? Loss? Frustration? Jealousy? Because I don’t see love in his eyes.
“I’m sorry I never showed you how much I cared about you. We just got a bit… stuck.”
My phone beeps, jolting me out of the conversation. Dylan. I text him back, ignoring the rising irritation with Grant. “Grant, I don’t want to dig this up. I’ve moved on.”
“Really? You’re still in Bristol. You can’t let go of your life here. I don’t think you have moved on yet.”
“I have to go.” I stand, scraping the chair across the tiled floor. Grant stands too.
“I’ll be there for you, when he dumps you.”
“What the fuck? Are you deaf? Haven’t you listened?” I walk across the cafeteria, digging my nails into the strap of my bag.
The cafeteria is at the front of the hospital. I’m relieved I don’t have far to go to get out and away from him.
Grant strides alongside me. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I stop suddenly and he nearly crashes into me. “Don’t be such a fucking hypocrite!”
“I mean it. I still love you,” he says softly.
“Shut up!” I half yell at him. An orderly with a metal trolley eyes us suspiciously.
Weirdly, I think I believed Dylan the first day he drunkenly told me he loved me more than I believe Grant now.
I don’t dignify his words with an answer and we stand opposite each other, silence hanging as I attempt to form a response that will get him never to broach the subject again.
And of course, Dylan appears, his tall frame moving through the corridor and presence catching the attention of everyone around. People are magnetically drawn to him, stopping what they’re doing to look - even those I’m sure don’t know who he is. They don’t need to be aware of his name to be caught in his pull.
Grant’s body language shifts and he edges toward me, putting his hand on my arm. Dylan stops and looks between us before fixing Grant with an impassive look.
Awesome. Perfect addition to the afternoon.
“You ready, Sky?” he asks, not taking his eyes off Grant.
My ex, who had his fair share of girls at school crushing on him as captain of the football team and one of the hottest guys at school, is eclipsed by Dylan. Grant has the looks and the charms, but next to Dylan Morgan, he’s as average as they come.
I slip my hand into Dylan’s and his fingers crush around mine. I squeeze his in warning. “This is Grant. Grant - Dylan.”
Neither of them moves; no hand shaking here I guess.
“I thought so.” Dylan finally looks at me and leans in to kiss me softly on the lips. “How’s Tara?”
“She wasn’t awake today.”
“Oh, sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, but it was nice to catch up with everyone?” puts in Grant. “I enjoyed having lunch with you.”
Again with the hand crushing. I move closer to Dylan and glare at Grant. “You and the others, yes.”
Dylan as usual is gathering some attention and a couple of nurses are at the edge of the corridor whispering. If we stay much longer, he’ll be descended on for autographs.
“You’re not what I expected,” says Grant.
I tense. Grant and Dylan speaking wasn’t something I wanted. “Oh?” asks Dylan.
“You look different in pictures.” The innocent comment is loaded. “But I hear things have been tricky for you recently, with the rape allegation and everything.”
Dylan’s finger crunching extends to an increasingly stiff stance. He’s spoken to Steve recently about Lily, but not communicated to me. Lily hasn’t been in touch and I get the impression I’m being squeezed out of any involvement. I don’t believe everything is laid to rest yet and I’ll get the truth somehow.
“Grant, don’t be a dickhead,” I say.
“Leave him. It’s okay,” says Dylan.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” says Grant to me, ignoring Dylan.
“I think Sky makes wise decisions,” Dylan says, “She knows her own mind.”
Apparently lost for anything else in his arsenal, Grant leans in and kisses my cheek. I freeze, hoping to hell Dylan isn’t one for testosterone-fuelled displays. The last thing we need is an assault charge. “I’m here when you need me again,” he says and steps back. “Good to meet you, Dylan Morgan.”
Grant strides away before either of us can react. Warily, I look to Dylan who’s watching Grant go with a hard-set mouth. Eventually, he blinks and looks back to me. “Let’s go home.”
****
Dylan
The moment Sky closes the door to her flat; I turn her around and cage her with my arms, pressing myself my hips against hers. The little gasp she makes when I surprise her stirs arousal. I crush my mouth against hers and take her head in my hands, pushing her face to mine.
She tastes fucking amazing, of Sky, of love, of everything that’s good in my world.
“Dylan,” she breathes as she pulls her head away, disentangling my fingers from her hair.
“You’re mine, Sky. Tell me you’re mine.” My tone is harsh, head filled with images of her and Grant.
Her eyes soften in realisation and she runs a finger down my face. “Of course I am, jeez, Dylan.”
“What was he doing?” I ask hoarsely.
“Being Grant,” she says. “Forget him.”
“I can’t. He’s part of you.”
“No!” Sky pushes me. “How can you say that? He stopped being part of me the day I saw him with that girl. No. Before then, months ago.”
“Here. Being here in Bristol makes him part of your life.”
“Being here, pinned against the wall by you makes you the man who’s my whole fucking world!” She pushes me again and anger darkens her eyes.
“Prove it!”
“How do I prove it? Shit, Dylan. Don’t you trust me or something?”
I need her naked, to touch the reality of Sky and join the truth of us; to drown out the noise of the outside world and show her how much we are to each other. My fingers go to the buttons of her jeans and I undo them, yanking them down. My eyes remain fixed on her widening ones, but she doesn’t move. Still holding her with my hips, I pull at her panties and she inhales sharply as the thin lace rips.
“Tell me you’re mine,” I say gruffly, pushing my hand between her legs. As I glide a finger along her sex, I smile. She’s fucking wet already and she’s mine.
“Dylan.” Sky slides her hands around my waist, digging her nails into my sides.
“Tell me you’re mine,” I repeat and thrust a finger inside her. Touching her hot, wet arousal shoots straight to my hardening dick.
Sky moans but won’t answer as she fixes me with a defiant stare. This turns me on more and I grab her hips, lifting and ho
lding her up against the wall. Sky wraps her legs around my waist as I continue to explore her with my fingers.
Sky’s hand goes to my jeans, freeing me as she curls her hand around my cock. I groan and close my eyes as her soft fingers stroke me.
“No. Say you’re mine,” she whispers.
I open my eyes and rest my head on hers, her game turning me on further. “That’s how things are? You think you’ll win?”
“Yes.” She strokes me teasingly and I reciprocate, swirling her clit with my thumb.
“I should fuck you right here against this wall,” I growl at her, “remind you that you belong to me.”
Sky leans her head on the wall, lips parted as her breathing speeds up. “Do your worst, rock god.”
“Don’t fucking tempt me.” I step back and release her legs so she’s standing again. Sky doesn’t protest when I roughly remove her jumper and bra. Holding her against the wall by the waist with one hand, I tease her hardened nipple with my fingers.
Despite being naked, Sky’s challenging look remains when I look back for a response. The touch of her warm fingers along my hard dick almost allows me to give in to her, but she’s not winning this time. Controlling the desire to get lost in what she’s doing to me, I grab her hair and pull her head back, biting her neck.
“Say it,” I whisper, nipping along her neck until my teeth close around her earlobe.
Sky doesn’t say anything. She pushes at my jeans and briefs, and I shuck them to the floor. As Sky follows their progression downward, and then kneels on the floor, I figure out her next move. No way. I’ll be fucking lost then. I grab her head and tip it toward me before her face gets close enough to my dick.
“No.”
“You don’t usually complain.”
A girl looking up at you from that position? It’s fucking distracting and my eyes glaze as her soft, wet mouth touches the tip of me.
With an inordinate amount of self-control, I move away. Before she has a chance to react, I shove her backwards on to the floor and pin her arms above her head. “Nice try,” I say.
Sky giggles and wriggles against me. I press against her, keeping her still. “You’re mine, Sky. Always mine.”
