I stood still just watching him, taking in his broad shoulders, slim waist, and strong hands. An involuntary shiver skipped through by body as I remembered how those calloused hands had handled me so gently. He was more beautiful than his outward appearance. Beneath the spiky dark hair, piercing green eyes, and flawless complexion was a good soul, a good man. I no longer saw the bad boy who jumped from bed to bed like a game of hopscotch. Dylan was so much more than his reputation, so much more.
His head lifted, and our eyes connected. Surprise filled his features, his brows drawing together as though wondering if he was imagining what he was seeing. I smiled and started toward him, my hands itching to feel him again. It’d been so long, too long.
“What are you doing here?” Dylan asked, his voice barely audible above the music. For a moment, I thought he sounded mad.
“I …” I began. “I wanted to say thank you for coming by last night and apologize for the way my father treated you.”
He regarded me, his eyes studying my face. “How’s your ma?”
I didn’t want to talk about her, but it would be impolite to ignore his question. I could tell he genuinely wanted to know. If I started thinking about her, the way she looked in her hospital bed, I’d lose all sense of composure and get mad at my father all over again.
“Not good,” I whispered, “but if you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk about her right now.”
He walked over and turned the music down enough that we could hear each other better.
“What do you want to talk about then?”
My tongue froze in my mouth. I hadn’t rehearsed a speech or even thought about what I wanted to say. I just knew that I wanted—no, had—to see him.
“How have you been?” I asked lamely. Jase’s words echoed through my mind. I almost wished he hadn’t told me all of that, because knowing made me more nervous. While I drove over here, I’d had the fantasy that at first seeing me, Dylan would scoop me up into his arms and all would be good. But Dylan didn’t scoop me into his arms; he didn’t even make a move toward me. His eyes were more shielded than I’d ever seen them before.
“Brooke?”
I’d been looking around the garage, avoiding his eyes. At the sound of my name coming from his lips, I looked up.
“What do you want?”
What do I want? There were so many things running through my head: I wanted his hands on my body, his mouth on mine, and for him to awaken me as he’d done so many times before. I wanted him—all of him—but I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t force my lips to confess why I’d come to his garage at seven o’clock at night. For the first time in a long time, I felt vulnerable. I couldn’t get a read on what he was thinking. Was he happy to see me, pissed off I was here? Could I withstand confessing everything and then having him laugh in my face? The answer was easy: no.
“I’m sorry,” I said, hating how shaky my voice came out, “I shouldn’t have come down here. It’s just … I tried calling, and … never mind. I’m sorry.” Before I turned to leave, Dylan spoke.
“You know we were a mistake, right?”
Whatever I thought he was going to say, it hadn’t been that—never that. His words had a direct line to my heart, causing it to speed up and break all at once. When I thought back to last summer, a lot of things went through my mind, but I’d never regretted my time with him. Hearing he had was almost too much. I stood frozen before him, unable to move or get my mouth to work. I was completely and utterly ... speechless.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way you looked at me yesterday,” he continued. “I’ve been up to see Dana a lot and made a point to not run into you. You told me that it would be better if we went our separate ways, so I made sure not to step into your path.” He took a step forward, and my heartbeat amplified. Those penetrating green eyes I’d loved looking into before were hard and guarded now.
“But yesterday,” Dylan breathed, shaking his head, “you looked at me as though I was rain, and you’d been suffering through a drought. You wanted to drink me in, wanted me to fill you up. Even now, you stroll in here and devour me with your gaze. You have no right to look at me like that, Brooke. I gave you what you wanted, kept my word, and stayed away. I thought it would be easy.” He took another step toward me, his hands fisting at his sides. Still, I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.
“You’ve haunted me,” he said, his voice losing steam and trailing off. He shook his head again as though refusing to believe whatever was going through it.
“You’ve haunted me, too,” I heard myself saying.
“I don’t want to want you,” he said. “I don’t want to think about you. I don’t want to be fucking some girl and remember that night in my truck.”
My eyes blurred with tears, and I willed them not to fall. I would not cry in front of Dylan Crawford. The only person my tears would fall for were my mama.
“I don’t want to see that look in your eyes when you look at me,” he continued, slashing me with his words. “I don’t want to remember …”
I nodded, silently vowing that I would never bother him again. I didn’t trust my voice not to crack, and if I didn’t leave now, those tears I was holding back were going to fall. I’d been foolish to think that we could pick up where we’d left off and everything would be okay.
I spun around and started toward the door, resisting the urge to run. Fingers clamped around my upper arm and stopped me. I kept my back to Dylan, unable to turn around and face the boy who’d broken me. I felt him step closer, his hard body against my back. I could literally feel the thumping of my heart against my chest.
“I also can’t forget,” he whispered against my ear. “I’ve tried letting you go, Brooke. I’ve done everything in my power to move on. No matter how many girls I fuck or alcohol I drink, you’re always there.”
He spun me around, his eyes searching my face. “If I can’t be with you, I don’t want the memory of you. It pisses me off.”
Then his mouth was on mine, moving fervently and almost painfully. His tongue teased the seam of my lips, asking permission for entry, and I obliged. A deep groan traveled between our kisses, and I was unsure if it belonged to him or me. At the moment I didn’t care. The only thing I could focus on was the way his tongue twined around mine, making my knees weak.
Dylan bent down, wrapping an arm around my waist and hoisted me up. I willingly wrapped my legs around his stomach, never breaking contact with his mouth. The hard planes of his chest melded with the soft curves of mine. The strong band of his arms around my back held me tighter against his body as though afraid I’d slip away.
In the back of my mind, I heard something slamming shut and then he sat me down. Dylan broke away from my mouth, and I realized he’d carried me to the car he’d been working on, the hood now closed. His fingers gripped the hem of my t-shirt and dragged it up my torso and over my head. My hands instantly went to the waist of his jeans, and I tugged open the button, quickly drawing his zipper down. His jeans fell to his ankles, exposing navy boxers and strong legs. Dylan gripped the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head, discarding it on the grimy concrete floor. His hat fell off his head in the process. He was just as glorious as I remembered—strong shoulders, defined chest, and rippled stomach.
Slowly, I traced my fingers down his stomach, loving the feel of the ridges and valleys beneath my fingertips. Looking up, I met his eyes and loved the burn within them. No longer were they guarded or angry, just … hungry. Reaching behind me, I unhooked my bra and slid it over my arms, never breaking eye contact with Dylan. As soon as the lacey garment was removed, his eyes fell to my bare breasts and drank in the sight of my nudity. I loved the way he could produce heat in my body with a single look. The fringe of dark lashes intensified the smolder in his eyes.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, meeting my eyes. “I know when you leave it’ll be ten times worse, but I’d gladly go through hell just to be inside of you again.” He reac
hed for the button of my jeans. I reclined back against the hood of the car and watched as he slid them off my legs.
“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. “You’re a goddamn fantasy come to life.”
I took in my position: half-naked and stretched out on a car. Yeah, that would be a mechanic’s—or rather, most guys’—fantasy, and it made me giddy to be Dylan’s. He’d always been mine.
I started to sit back up when Dylan said, “No, stay lying back.
He hooked his fingers in my panties and slowly withdrew them. I watched as his tongue slipped out and rolled over his lips. The ache between my legs intensified with the gesture.
Bending down, he stepped out of his jeans and retrieved his wallet from the back pocket. I should have known a guy like Dylan Crawford would have a condom on hand at all times. I didn’t want to think about that right now, though. When he withdrew his boxers, the thought slipped completely away. The only other guy I’d been with never commanded my attention the way Dylan did. Foolishly, I thought sleeping with someone else would eradicate Dylan from my mind. I’d met him at the Halloween Party Lily dragged me to and we dated for just two weeks. The two times I’d had sex with Chris it’d been in the darkness of either his bedroom. There was something erotic about seeing a man’s body in the light. My eyes latched onto Dylan’s erection, and I squeezed my thighs together to pacify the building ache.
“Have you … been with someone else?” He didn’t sound worried, just curious.
I nodded. “Yes, just a couple times.” Why he wanted to talk about this right now confused me. There would be plenty of time for talking after he satisfied the need of both our bodies.
“Good,” he said, “because this isn’t going to be sweet. It’s going to be hard and fast.” As if to prove his point, he stepped between my legs and positioned himself. His eyes never leaving my face, he thrust his hips forward and buried himself inside of me. I moaned with the fullness of him. He gripped my thighs, his fingers digging into my flesh almost painfully, and he thrust harder, deeper.
I rose to a sitting position, wrapping an arm around his neck, and claimed his mouth. I sucked on his bottom lip, sliding my tongue inside to tease his. He groaned, kissing me back with just as much fervor.
Dylan trailed a hand up my back, his fingers fisting my hair. With a gentle tug, he tipped my head back and just stared at me, his hips bucking against mine. There were so many emotions playing across his face: desire, hunger, want, anger.
“Nothing has ever felt as good as you,” he whispered. He released my hair and gripped my waist as he rocked his body against mine, hard and fast as promised. I moaned, panting at how good he felt, at how quickly my body responded to him. It’d never been like this with Chris, never so … electric. Our hands kneaded, scraped, and trailed down each other’s bodies as if needing more contact. I watched the muscles in Dylan’s shoulder flex as he curled over me, causing me to lie back onto the hood of the car.
When he captured my erect nipple in his mouth, I whimpered so loud it reverberated off the garage walls. I writhed against him, moving my hips in sync with his. Arching my back, I pressed more of myself into his mouth. I grew dizzy with lust and need, my eyes slipping closed as the pressure built between my thighs. He pumped harder, faster, while pressing kisses to my breasts and up my neck. Needing to touch him, I gripped onto his shoulders and dug my nails into his skin. If I didn’t hold on, I was surely going to melt right through the hood of the car.
“Yes …oh … God, that feels so good. Dylan … hmm … yes … yes …”
“Are you about to come, baby?”
“Y-yes,” I stuttered through a moan, and then he withdrew from my body. I sat up in surprise, shocked. Panting, I asked, “What are you doing?”
A smirk bent up one side of his mouth. “You feel that pressure, that unyielding need right before an orgasm?” I nodded, trying to catch my breath. “That’s what I’ve dealt with for the past months—a greedy need without hope of fulfillment. No matter how many times I thought about you, your memory wasn’t enough to satisfy the utter demand I have for you. You left an ache when you left, a fissure inside of me with no hope of mending.”
I no longer needed to worry about catching my breath because Dylan had just stolen all of the air from my lungs.
“The only way I’ll satisfy your need is if you satisfy mine.”
I stared up at him and smiled. “I thought that’s what I was doing.”
He laughed. “Not this particular need. I know you have to go back to school, but I want you to go back as mine. If a four months couldn’t erase you from my mind, an hour’s drive isn’t going to deter me from you.”
I swallowed, taking a moment to collect my thoughts. Dylan had scrambled my brain with pleasure and now wanted to have a serious conversation. It was torturous, mean, and one of the sweetest things I’d ever experienced. It took major willpower for a man to stop mid-sex.
“Dylan Crawford, are you asking me to be your … girlfriend?” I asked with incredulity.
He leaned forward, resting his hands on either side of my legs. “That’s exactly what I’m requesting, Brooke Kingsley. I can’t watch you drive away from me again, not without knowing you’re my girl completely.”
“And if I say no, you won’t satisfy the need you created?” I arched my eyebrows in challenge. There was no way any man could refuse a butt naked girl on a freaking car hood, just there for the taking.
Dylan’s smile stretched wider, his eyes roaming down the length of my body. They raked me slowly, drinking in every curve, mound, and inch of flesh. That earlier heat stirred behind his gaze, and his smile fell away with parted lips.
“I may hate myself, but no, I won’t make you come.”
Heat consumed not only my body, but also my cheeks. Even though he stopped to have his little discussion, he was still hard and ready for me.
“You lied,” I accused, placing my hands on his chest. I could feel the beat of his heart against my palm, strong and fast just like my own.
“About what?” Dylan asked, confused.
I smiled. “You said this wasn’t going to be sweet. You promised me hard and fast.”
He leaned into me, his body pushing between my legs. “I’ll give you hard and fast as soon as you give me what I want.” He pressed into me, just enough for the tip of his cock to tease my entry. How was his willpower stronger than mine?
“Yes,” I said, laughing at the absurdity of it all. “I’ve thought about being your girlfriend for four years, and this is how it happened, with me naked on the hood of a car.”
Dylan watched me with a look resembling shock. I stifled my laughter and asked, “What?”
“You never told me you wanted to date me before. I knew you had a crush on me in high school, but I never thought it was anything more than that. I wish I would have known.”
“Right, because bad boy Dylan Crawford would have settled down back then.”
He laughed and shook his head at me, pressing his body closer to mine. “I noticed you your first day of high school and every day after. You weren’t the only one with a crush.”
With that, he slid back into me, his hips rolling against me softly. The frenzy of need from before settled into rhythmic ballet of thighs, legs, and kisses. It was beautiful, sweet, and everything I’d been missing from my life.
Brooke slid into the vinyl booth, taking a seat opposite of me. I smiled at her disheveled hair, loving I’d been the one to muss it. My eyes fell to her breasts, remembering just how sweet her nipples had felt against my tongue. I’d accused her of a whole mess of things, but what I didn’t confess was that I’d been doing the same. While she was away, I’d tried to be the old version of myself, sleeping with girls and hanging with the guys. Alcohol helped numb the memory of her, but the girls left me feeling colder than before. I couldn’t slip between their legs without seeing the way Brooke had looked up at me that first time. Her eyes had been so sweet and trusting. The girls I normally hooked
up with looked at me with glazed eyes, the product of too much alcohol or drugs. I’d never cared before, a lay was a lay in my book. The difference was, I’d fucked those girls, but (don’t revoke my man card) I’d made love to Brooke. That was the only way I could describe how I felt when I was inside of her. Having never been in love with a girl before, this subject made me more than a little nervous.
“What are you thinking?” Brooke asked. She bent her elbow on the table and rested her head in her hand. Her eyes found mine across the table, curious and slightly sleepy. I wished I could take credit for wearing her out, but I had a feeling some of it had to do with her mother.
“I was just thinking,” I said, picking up the menu and scanning the dishes, “that no matter what I order, nothing is going to taste as good as you do.” I sent her a wicked grin when she looked away shyly. I’d noticed a few differences from the girl I’d known last year, but little parts still remained, like the pink coloring her cheeks. She’d been just as frenzied as me at the garage, but now that she’d been sated, her modesty was back in place. It was cute as fuck.
“Hey, Dylan,” a girl’s voice said, her tone friendlier than necessary. I didn’t need to look up to know what waitress stood beside our table; Ruby Jeffries turned her back to Brooke and gave me her full attention. She wore the same regulation navy dress as the other waitress at Roseville Diner, but she’d hemmed hers up a couple inches, claiming the tips were better if she showed a little leg.
Ruby rested her hip against the table, bending forward as she spoke. “You still coming over this weekend?”
My eyes flicked past Ruby and to Brooke. Her lips thinned into two hard lines, her head turned toward the window, as though she couldn’t stand to watch the scene before her.
“I’ll cook dinner,” Ruby continued, “and serve dessert.”
This was what Brooke expected when she agreed to date me exclusively. I’d seen the look of worry in her eyes right before she’d said yes. If she thought I was still going to sleep my way around town, why had she even considered dating me? She wasn’t desperate or suffering from low self-esteem. Her eyes slid over to check out what was going on, and upon noticing I was already staring at her, she smiled sheepishly.
Turning Home (A Small Town Novel) Page 17
