Dylan (Wild Men)

by Melissa Belle

  “Beverly Hills Cop,” we say at the same time.

  I start laughing. “Are you serious?”

  “I love that movie.”

  “Me too.”

  Our eyes catch and hold. Then my gaze shifts to his lips, and I suddenly want to do dirty things to that mouth of his.

  He breaks the moment. “Let me pay for the movie?”

  “I’ve got this one.”

  “So does that mean there’ll be another?” he asks me.

  I turn away from him and busy myself with the remote. “Of course. We agreed to be seen in public for the next few days right? So I assume that means we’ll have to actually get together.” I let out a nervous laugh.

  “I meant away from the public.” His voice is smooth and low, but I hear his breath catch, and I snap my gaze up to meet his. “Are you okay to hang out in private again?”

  I clear my throat. Yes. I’m already hardly able to remember what my life was like before Dylan was in it. It’s like going from black and white to color, which just proves what I knew from the beginning.

  Dylan Wild is dangerous.

  I nod slowly. “We can try hanging out and keep getting to know each other like we agreed on. But I should warn you now—I don’t open up easily. Very few people know the real me.”

  He reaches out and strokes my hair. Just for a second, but I get goosebumps all down my arms and legs. As well as other places.

  I turn to face him, but he just scoots back against the pillows.

  “Shall we?” he asks.

  I’m caught up in the reverie of his touch, and I start at the question.

  “Shall we what?” I ask suspiciously.

  He laughs. “Got you, huh? Without even meaning to. I meant the movie, Jasalie. Shall we watch the movie?”

  I grit my teeth so hard they hurt. “Coming right up.”

  When the credits begin to roll, I turn the TV off and stand up.

  “I guess you’d better get going. I’ve got to get ready for tonight’s event.”

  Dylan glances at his watch. “Wow. Time flies.” He stands up, too.

  “Thanks for the ‘date.’” I put the word in air quotes. “I can honestly say I’ve never had one like it before.”

  I head for the door to let him out. But as my hand touches the doorknob, I can feel him at my back.

  His scent surrounds me as his arms cage me in from behind. He leans in so close to me I have to close my eyes and curse inwardly to stop from turning around and pulling him up against me.

  He lifts my hair off my shoulder just enough so he can sneak his head into the crook of my neck. I can’t help the shiver that surges through my body at the feel of his nose and lips on my sensitive skin. He doesn’t kiss me, though. His lips barely graze the spot on my racing pulse point, and then he runs his nose down my neck. I can hear his jagged inhale before he buries his face in my shoulder.

  “You smell so good,” he murmurs.

  I can’t believe he noticed.

  I’ve been told I look good, taste good, and feel good by other men, but no one’s ever said I smell good. No one’s ever noticed my mother before.

  I jerk back, forcing him to retreat.

  “Jasalie.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Hey.”

  But I don’t turn to face him. I can’t, or else I’m sure I’ll fall even harder.

  Instead, I open the door to its widest arc and step back, making my desire clear. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  As soon as he walks through the door, I shut and lock it behind him without giving him a chance to make eye contact or speak to me again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Dylan

  Shit. That didn’t go the way I planned. I take the stairs up to my floor and head for my room, cursing myself the whole way.

  I glance down at my ringing phone. Tim’s name pops up on the screen. I groan but answer the call.

  “Who’s the girl?” he says immediately.

  “She’s my date for the weekend,” I say curtly. “Her name’s Jasalie. So stop calling her ‘the girl,’ please.”

  “She’s perfect,” he says approvingly. “Bryce will definitely give the donation plus the commercial. A win-win all around.”

  Right. I know I wanted the same thing, but talking about Jasalie like she’s a means to an end doesn’t sit well with me.

  “Dyl?” Tim’s voice is breaking up. “I’m in a tunnel. Can you hear me?”

  “I can’t hear you! I’ll talk to you later,” I say loudly, and then disconnect the call.

  I slide my keycard into the door and let myself into my room. I go stand by the window and stare out at the mountains in the distance.

  Jasalie’s like a puzzle I can’t figure out. I didn’t mean to hit on her when I left like that. It just…happened. She’s intoxicating, not only the way she smells like roses and spring but all of her. I’d been fighting touching her all through lunch, and when she opened up to me in the car and put her arms around me, I nearly lost it.

  She’s the sweetest tough girl I’ve ever met. And the hard-as-nails side that she uses to literally repel people and keep them at arm’s length has me constantly aroused. I know she’s got her guard up for the world at large, but I’ve never met anyone better at genuinely deflecting attention off of herself. Jasalie managed to spend an entire afternoon making me think we were getting acquainted with each other, and here I am not knowing any more about her now than I did when we met.

  Except when she drove us to that house. Even she couldn’t mask the deep pain behind her eyes when we sat outside and watched the little girl run across the lawn.

  I was desperate for her to tell me the truth, to let me in. But I knew the timing was wrong. And then she surprised the hell out of me with that pact request. No, I don’t want to just screw her and say good-bye in three days. That’s the exact opposite kind of relationship I want with her. I want her to be my exception, the one woman who can handle my crazy life and accepts me for who I am.

  But the logical side of me was relieved she and I are on the same page. No strings attached is the best I can offer her. The fact that she agrees will make this whole weekend easier because it’s the only option for me right now.

  So I’m going to have to keep my feelings in check. Because I already know that I could fall harder for Jasalie than I have for anyone in my life. The kind of falling that isn’t optional—I couldn’t look away from the moment I first laid eyes on her, and the more time we spend together, the more all-in I am. So, for the next three days, I’ll get to know as much of her as she’ll share with me. Even if in the end I walk away wrecked.

  Jasalie

  “La, la, la, la, la! Jasalie’s in love!” Lilla dances around my room with her hairbrush, singing into it like it’s a microphone. She’s still in a bra and underwear. I’m sitting on the bed, fully dressed in a little black dress and already sweating in anticipation of tonight’s promotional dinner. I’ve also bitten my fingernails—a terrible habit I’ve mostly quit but return to when something’s got me really strung out.

  But Lilla’s crazy song makes me laugh despite myself. “Lilla, it’s not like that. Like I told you, Dylan needs a favor, and so do I.”

  Lilla’s eyes assess me carefully. “Who’s the money for? I know you would never take that kind of a deal for yourself. You’re far too selfless.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s for…my mother.”

  Lilla gasps. “You found her?”

  The only reason Lilla knows about my childhood is because she’s so damn nosy. My first day of work happened to be the week before Mother’s Day, and Lilla asked me what I was getting my mom so fast I couldn’t think up a lie.

  “Not exactly.” I twist the hem of my dress in my fist. “My mom is in some financial trouble. I received a letter from some company. She doesn’t know I’m trying to help her.”

  Lilla’s arms are around me so fast I can’t fend her off. “You are so amazing to do this for your mom,” she says q
uickly.

  I pull away from her as fast as I can. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Of course it is! Only you would deny that what you’re trying to do is nothing short of incredible. Now—did you tell Dylan who the money’s for?”

  “No.” I point to her. “And neither will you. Not one word, okay?”

  She pretends to zip her lips shut. “Not even if I’m smashed on vodka. But the thing I don’t get, Jase, is you told me about your past the day we met. You were shy about it even though you shouldn’t be, of course,” she adds quickly. “It’s not your shame your mother left you on the doorstep of social services when you were four. It’s hers.” She looks at me more closely. “I thought you knew that.”

  “I do know that.” I squirm. “But Dylan won’t. His life’s perfect.”

  “I think you should tell him,” Lilla advises me. “No one has the perfect life. Although he could be the one exception. And what if you two get close? You’ll want to let him in on that part of your life. Won’t you?”

  I shudder. The very idea of sharing my painful past with someone as perfect as Dylan Wild horrifies me. “No. Nothing’s happened between us. Besides, even if something did, it’s just for while we’re in town. Three days.”

  “I just don’t get that part. Was it your idea? I’m assuming it must have been. Only you’d be silly enough to think up something like that.”

  “Actually, it was both of us.” I ignore the way my chest clenches at the memory of Dylan wanting no strings between us. “He seems to think along the exact same lines as me.”

  “You’re both quite stupid if you ask me. What if you two actually fall for each other? Then you’ve screwed yourselves.”

  “Well, that’s something I’m good at. It’s just for the best.”

  “Why?” she demands. “Why in the heck is it for the best?”

  I’m not sure I still have an answer to that question.

  I look down at my chewed-up nails and try to think of a way to fix them. Deciding I can’t do anything now, I give up and sigh. “Lil, can we go now? I’m sure Marcus will love whatever you decide to wear.”

  For the hundredth time, Lilla grabs her three dress options off my bed and holds them up. “He didn’t seem to bite this afternoon remember? I mean we flirted over drinks at the hotel bar, and then he just kind of took off.”

  “Lilla, he has a girlfriend. Please consider backing off.”

  “Not possible. I’ve decided he’s the one I want this trip. I know it’s not going anywhere, but that’s fine.” She returns to her dress decision. “Okay, which one? And remember, I’m going for sexy but subtle here.”

  I point to the far left option. “That one.”

  She looks at it quizzically. “Purple? Is that sexy?”

  “It is when it’s that fitted and with that little fabric,” I joke with her. “Plus, it brings out your eyes.”

  “Okay,” she says happily and puts it on. “I love what you’re wearing, Jase. Finally something that actually shows off your amazing figure.”

  I pull at my fitted black dress self-consciously. “Oh, thanks.”

  I told myself I had no other options when I chose to wear this dress and that it wasn’t because I wanted to impress Dylan. Not at all. I don’t know who I think I’m kidding. I can barely even convince myself at this point.

  “Do you think we’ll be able to actually sit down and eat, or will Bill have us racing around all evening kissing everyone’s butt?” Lilla asks as we head to the elevator.

  “Most surely the ass kissing. When does our boss ever waste an opportunity to have us be his slaves?”

  “True.”

  We get into the elevator and run straight into Bill, who’s chatting it up with a woman. He’s leaning in close to her, and he’s got a touch of the woman’s red lipstick on his neck.

  I can’t even look at Lilla because I know we’ll both start laughing.

  “Hello, ladies.” Bill gives us an actual smile and not his usual snarl. “How are you both this evening?”

  “Great,” I say. “In fact, we’re starving.”

  “You are, huh?” he says. “Hoping to have time to eat, maybe?”

  “That would be nice,” Lilla says.

  “Well, don’t count on it,” he says. “There are a lot of hungry football players downstairs who need tending to, and I volunteered you two to help out the hotel wait staff. Seems three employees called in sick, so they’re short-staffed. And I don’t want this event to be compromised because of it.”

  “I’m absolutely terrible as a server,” I protest. “Remember my brief attempt at the Super Bowl after party?”

  Bill glares at me. “Yes, I do. And I expect a far better performance than that tonight.”

  Lilla laughs. “I’ve waited a bunch. But I was fired. That’s how I ended up in advertising, Bill.”

  “Then here’s your chance to redeem yourself, Ms. Tamarich. And you too, Ms. Gordon. Get yourselves a drink and settle in. I’ll come find you shortly.”

  The elevator doors open into the lobby, and we all step out with Lilla and me looking at each other as soon as Bill and his “lady friend” pass us.

  “I can’t freaking believe this,” Lilla complains to me in a whisper. “This is going to completely suck.”

  Lilla walks inside the bar first, and I follow behind her. The first thing I see when I step through the doorway is Dylan. He’s standing with a few of his teammates and laughing.

  I’m immediately paranoid. Is he laughing at me? Waiting for me to arrive so he can make fun of how he played me for a fool all day, how he tricked me into thinking he actually liked me?

  I ignore him and walk quickly to the bar.

  The bar is crowded already, and we have to wait for a bartender.

  Lilla scouts out the place while I keep my back to the rest of the room. “Okay,” she whispers. “Dylan, Colton, and Marcus are just a couple of feet away now. I wonder if they’re talking about us.”

  She giggles.

  “I can’t imagine what they’re saying,” I say curtly. “But I really don’t want to know.”

  She turns her back on the room, too. “I guess you’re right. Why do we care what they’re saying about us?”

  “Dylan Wild can talk about me all he wants. See if I care.”

  “What makes you think I was talking about you?” a low, familiar voice says in my ear.

  I turn around to see Dylan standing behind me.

  Lilla bursts out laughing.

  “Oh, that’s priceless, Dylan,” she squeals.

  He’s wearing a suit, which of course looks perfect on him—the black jacket and pants match his hair perfectly, and the gold tie brings out the sparks in his eyes. But it’s the way he’s looking at me that fills my body with heat—like he genuinely wants to know me. The real me.

  I glance over at Lilla, who’s still fangirling him.

  “Dylan, you are so cool. You know that?”

  “So I’ve been told. Although not by this one.” He touches my arm. “You really think I would talk badly about you?”

  I shrug, but then I meet his eyes.

  What happened earlier in my room passes between us.

  Lilla looks from me to Dylan and quickly makes herself scarce.

  Dylan steps closer to me, and I’m relieved when the bartender finally comes to take my order.

  “One vodka and cranberry,” Dylan says before I get the words out.

  I glance over at him.

  “I pay attention.” He drops some bills on the counter, and the server brings my drink faster than I can calm my racing pulse.

  Dylan leans over and speaks to me in a soft tone. “I’m sorry I came on too strong this afternoon. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Jasalie.”

  “It’s not that,” I say. “You didn’t scare me, Dylan.”

  His lips brush my ear as he gets close enough to make sure only I can hear him. “I just…I like you. And away from all the cameras, I felt like w
e connected.”

  The raw honesty in his voice sends vibrations through my chest and down between my thighs.

  Dylan takes my arm. “Let’s go take a seat somewhere.”

  “He’s like a God, Jase,” Lilla whispers as I pass her.

  I smile and shake my head. He’s unbelievable, all right. Definitely too good to be true.

  I’ve had about half my drink when Bill calls out to Lilla and me. “Okay, ladies, you’ve had your fun. Now, if you could go back to the kitchen over there…” He points behind him. “The waitresses will help get you started. Dinner will be served soon, Mr. Wild,” he adds to Dylan with a slap on the back.

  Dylan ignores him and turns to me. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have time to eat.”

  I stand up. “That’s sweet, but you don’t know my boss. He’s probably committed us for the whole night.”

  When we arrive in the kitchen, we learn the ropes from Todd, the head waiter.

  “If you mess up an order, don’t tell the head chef,” he warns us. “Pedro hates mistakes.”

  “So what the hell do we do if we screw up?” Lilla whispers to me.

  “Run,” I say.

  A couple of hours later, Lilla and I have made enough mistakes for a lifetime. Serving is hard work, and when it’s for a roomful of athletes who each want the equivalent of three meals’ worth of food, it’s even more taxing. I make Lilla wait on the players’ tables so I won’t be more embarrassed than I already plan to be, and I take the staff of coaches and executives. I definitely get it easier than Lilla, who is making about two runs to my one.

  “Pedro, I need two key lime pies and three chocolate cakes,” I call out.

  Dinner is finally wrapping up, but now there’s dessert and coffee.

  “Need some help?”

  I turn to see Dylan ducking his head around the corner of the kitchen. His cousin, Colton, is with him, along with Lilla’s crush, Marcus.

  I hurry over to them. “Are you a masochist?” I say to Dylan in a low voice. “This is no place for a novice. I should know.”

  “I’m not a novice,” he says. “I waited tables for years back home.”

  Is this guy for real?