Wilde About Dylon: The Brothers Wilde Series — Book Four

by Faircloth, Cate

  His brow tightens as his eyes go dark again, but I can’t place why.

  “Oh. I almost forgot about that.”

  “Maybe because you don’t listen very well.”

  He is taken back for a moment, then doesn’t get a chance to continue when the server comes by with the check.

  “Can you split it, please?” I ask the young woman.

  “Yes, of course.” She moves to grab the receipt back before Dylan stops her.

  “No, it’s fine.”

  “Please, just split it,” I say again, and some sort of female connection must go on because she ignores Dylan and walks off to split it, stopping him mid-sentence.

  He leans back and tightens his jaw at me, narrowing his eyes.

  “Really?” he gruffs.

  “What, I’m supposed to roll over and let you pound your chest as the male?”

  He scoffs and shakes his head. “That’s not… it isn’t that big of a deal, Forbes. You make it one.”

  “No, I don’t. You did by trying to argue with me and make a scene,” I hiss. My eyes dart to the server coming back and dropping off two receipts. I have my card ready and hand it to her while she waits for Dylan to hand his off.

  When she walks off, Dylan leans in closer, and I frown at him.

  “I’m starting to think you like being a bitch solely for the fun of it.” His voice laces with disdain, and it fires back at me, makes my skin itch too. I can’t stifle my gasp as it flies out from shock, and I scowl at him.

  My blood boils, mad that I betrayed myself. For a short moment, I thought I could open up my mind to him and put my previous beliefs on hold, but obviously, I was wrong. Sure, maybe I should have relented and let him pay the damn bill, but it didn’t matter much to me, the same way it shouldn’t have for him.

  And the way he is looking at me now is worse than the other way because this is the what I expect, what I mostly feel like I deserve.

  And it doesn’t feel good.

  As soon as I get my card back and fill in a tip too high for her putting up with our shit, I rush out of the booth with him on my heel.

  “Forbes, what the hell?” he calls after me, catches up to me intending to walk the short two miles home. I could run with my purse draped over my shoulder, but his hand catches my elbow and stops me before I complete the thought.

  “Let go!” I yank my arm from him, spinning around to face him.

  His chest heaves under the tightness of his jacket, gray eyes wide and blazing at me. I swallow and catch my breath, everything welling up inside me is too much to take down, though, and it’s no use.

  “Look, I didn’t mean what I said. But you can’t blame me. You’re dead set on treating me like shit, dragging me along for the fun of it. What the hell else do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing!” I shriek, my voice cracking. “You’ve done enough.” I brush past him and clip his shoulder in the process, but he is fast on my heels and catches up in front of me.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It…” My inhibitions from before fading away, my reasoning, my doubts, it has no use anymore.

  “You’re the reason my dad is dead.” My voice is almost like acid, and it feels the same way coming back up.

  Dylan holds the same expression before his face goes blank, total darkness.

  “How is that?”

  My throat burns with the explanation fighting the anger that surfaces from knowing he truly has no idea.

  “My dad worked for Wilde Enterprises for almost twenty years until you fired him. Personally. He couldn’t even get unemployment, my medical bills racked up, and I… kept getting worse. He went broke because when you fired him, you didn’t even give him unemployment or a severance package… anything. And he…” I can’t possibly give him everything, or even admit it to anyone but myself. It’s too intense, too heavy.

  “You’re the reason for everything that went dark in my life. I’m not a bitch, Dylan. I’m a fucking force because of you,” I spit.

  Dylan is silent, brewing something behind his head that I can’t decipher or care to try.

  My voice catches, and I breathe deeply catching my breath as if I did, in fact, run home, but I’ve been standing right here baring every part of me I kept secret for so long. Emily is the only other person in my life, and she doesn’t know.

  It was me, and now Dylan who can’t say a word.

  The wind chills. I would be punishing myself if I tried to walk home.

  I move past him and stomp over to the passenger side of his car waiting for him to unlock it. I cross my arms and face away from him. Eventually, he does. Coming back to the car, he opens my door, I get inside, he shuts the door and peeks through the window at me, but I don’t spare him a look.

  He gets in the car, still silent all the way back to my apartment. I had one thing to keep me sufficient, now it’s gone, and I feel like a fool. Dylan is acting like I ranted about a bad day or someone who keyed my car and not… not matching the magnitude of what I told him.

  As soon as he reaches my block and stops, I get out and rush up the stairs.

  “Forbes, wait,” he growls.

  My hand closes on the door handle, turned down.

  For some hidden reason, I release it and turn to face him. He jogs up the steps, coming closer to me until I can inhale and breathe in his scent—warm, hardened, unwavering.

  “I didn’t fire your father.”

  I freeze midbreath, my eyes running cold as I stare up at him.

  My lips press together, and I inhale sharply, but it’s no use since my feet are wavering underneath me, and what I know as my world has lost its axis.

  “That’s… bullshit.” I try to find the right word.

  “No…” he growls. “It’s not.”

  I scoff and curse under my breath as I shove the door open and pass the security lock for the second door.

  “Forbes, there are two sides to every story. Listen long enough, and you might be surprised.”

  I turn and face him calming the seething in my bones for a moment. I blink a few times reminding myself that he is, in fact, unfortunately right.

  “Please. Let me up.” He leans in closer, his warm breath kissing my face, the crystal of the gray in his eyes blinding me.

  God, I don’t stand a chance.

  17

  Dylan

  The green orbs in her eyes transfix me. Forbes is a walking spell that I can’t tell is good or bad yet.

  Just undeniable.

  “Fine,” she barely whispers. A small victory.

  I follow her inside, feet trudging and remembering her every word.

  Adrian Walters was a familiar name from a time when I lived to forget the events of each day and not be vapid enough to remember them. Forbes doesn’t seem the lying type especially not about something of that magnitude, but I for the life of me, I can’t remember an instance ever occurring that way, not exactly that way. I do remember paying out his accounts with the company, one of the first things I did when I got back to the office after Dad died. But everything else…

  I know there is more to the story. Staying true to my word, I’ll get the information myself and set Forbes straight if I have to.

  She carries the same pain that I understand, the same pain that I have. But she manages it a hell of a lot better than I do.

  “Forbes, I’m not sure that’s what happened with your dad.” I force my voice to be audible, my throat pulsing with the effects of her statement still.

  “Are you calling me a liar?” she asks, not looking over her shoulder as she stumbles inside, tosses her purse on the counter and doesn’t stop until she reaches the end of her couch.

  “No.” My eyes scan her room, a smashing move of too many things to place.

  Her living room, bright red couch and matching side chairs breaks the hallway between the kitchen and breakfast nook. Her rug, a dark silver that gleams under the light of the lamp, matches the silver table pieces put on
the coffee table and flanking the television—skinny, circular things that look like they should hold flowers but don’t have any in them. The black journal on the couch cushion is the only thing out of place.

  When I come back to, Forbes is staring up at me a few paces away. I’m distracted again by her golden hair catching in the light, the bun on the top of her head jostled from the way it was before. My fingers itch by my side to run through them, so I curl them in and try like hell not to.

  “I’m saying that isn’t something I would ever do. Both legally and morally.”

  “Well, you did it. He—” She breaks off like she hadn’t meant to add to it.

  “So that’s why then? You hate me because of one degree of separation?” I take a step forward, and her breath hitches so her neck dents as she swallows.

  She twists her mouth relaxing her eyes so that her brow unfurls, and her wrinkle lines go away. If she weren’t so unnaturally breathtaking, I’d have better luck at this. When I look at her, it’s like my eyes have never really seen, like I’ve never really felt. It would be easier if it were because I knew she didn’t like me, and I was only naturally trying to prove her wrong, but I don’t entertain things like that—never have, and especially where I am now, I wouldn’t.

  “No, you were the one who set things in motion. He never would have… you pushed him to the edge.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  Her lips part to speak, but I don’t let her this time. Closing the gap, I press forward so my chest is on hers, our breaths filling the same air.

  “Whatever you think happened is wrong. And I’m going to prove it to you, Forbes… your lack conviction in what you have against me and what you think you know. But you won’t admit it, you want to take the easy way out, and until you look at the whole story, you’ll never get to the end.”

  Forbes inhales for a rebuttal, but I don’t let her. I can’t, my body won’t let her. My lips are on hers again in seconds, minuscule moments that keep me from her, that allow the farce to exist between us and keep us apart. For years, I’ve felt nothing and wanted nothing, until now, until Forbes walked into my life, stealing the security I built up with her eyes and words and the disdain she feels for me that matches the way I feel about myself. Clashing together, it stops existing.

  My tongue laces her lips open and slides over hers, resistance gone from her body. She leans into me, her arms snaking up around my neck. I turn the kiss, my head tilting down as I cup her jaw and raise her up to me. A moan catches in her throat silenced by the press of my tongue halfway down it. She tastes like the bittersweet taste of her tea mixing with the existing flavor of her that both poisons and revives me. Needing air, I pull away. She tugs forward, her lips rubbing mine as we heave.

  “This…” I swallow hard, “… this is what you hate more. Physically. Mentally, you can’t deny this, and I won’t either. Not anymore.”

  “I…” Her eyelids flutter as she sighs. “This…”

  “Doesn’t change anything? I’m way ahead of you.”

  I hoist her up and drop her onto the couch. She scowls up at me, and my gaze breaks hers when I remove my sweatshirt, and then find her again still scowling but with a glow in her eyes that probably matches mine. I topple onto her before she can move, though I doubt she would. With my hand on the arm of the couch behind her head, I lean down, and with the other, I cup her face, run my thumb along the smoothness of her cheek before I drag my hand up into her silky-smooth hair snatching the tie that held it up.

  Forbes lifts her head slightly, her hair falling in waves onto her shoulders. My finger stays latched to the long locks as I trail them down and spin the liquid gold in my fingers.

  Her breath hitches. “Do you have some kind of hair fetish?” she spits.

  “For you.” I watch her eyes trail down my body as her fingers follow. My build is stocky, muscles overlapping. The warmth of her fingers continues down my front until I let my body fall onto hers, my lips meeting hers again.

  She kisses me hard this time, her lips trying to beat mine, tongue trying to work harder than mine.

  We both tug back and forth and don’t let up while I take her shirt off followed quickly by her bra. The smooth mounds of her breasts hit my chest before I break the kiss to see them—to see her.

  She breathes heavily, her chest heaving and swaying her breasts in place. I take my hand from the couch to her instead preceding my lips as I kiss down and suckle the hollow of her neck where the taste of her skin pools. My palm rubs over her nipple, hardened from the air and her arousal. I pull back running my lips down to the curve of her breast, one then the other. Her nipples, pale and almost faded, harden even more as I press them together and kiss the crevice I formed. I run my tongue down it and down the dip in the center of her belly, tracing around her belly button before I kiss her and tug her jeans down without loosening the button. She shrieks when I quickly throw them off leaving her in a simple pair of green panties.

  Forbes tugs me down fast suddenly searing her lips to mine and tightening her legs around my hips. I grind myself down onto her, my cock screaming at the warmth and friction, still asking for more. I pinch her nipples in both hands before driving my hands down to the curve of her back and the slope of her hips. Our lips meld together as our tongues force at each other.

  I hold her in place with one hand, the other moving down the front of her panties teasing the hem back before I snap it back into place. She tries to bite my lip in response, but I move quickly separating my lips from hers to meet her neck. I trace around below her ear with my tongue, my lips following around.

  My fingers rub the center of her panties below her clit until I have to tug at the moisture seeping and trapping them to her skin. She mewls, stifling a moan like she doesn’t want to—doesn’t want me to hear how much she likes my touch. I lean up on my knees and draw her legs up in front of me, taking her panties off in one swoop. My eyes bare hers as I drop her thighs to my shoulders, the crook of her knees pressing me down.

  I faintly remember something about her and Emily always doing yoga. It proves true when I lean back down, slide her up the couch, so my lips are at her navel. She holds me at my hair, her other hand cups my cock through my pants, and I growl, my lips falling over the pale brown hair lightly covering her.

  “Dylan…” She halts, and I know she won’t ask for it.

  I look up at her through my hooded lids as I part her wet folds with my tongue, groaning at the throb and heat of her against me.

  Her moans no longer hold back when I assault her clit and opening with my tongue and lips. She gushes for me, her body begging to meld with mine. I strain against my pants, the hardening of my cock reaching up my spine and tugging at my brain reminding me it exists.

  I would rather see Forbes fully at my mercy before I let myself have her completely.

  Forbes starts to huff her breaths, loud and short sighs that build in her chest and escape her lips. I look up and watch her bite down on her lip, thrash her head on the couch over and over. The waves of her hair fall to her side as she does. One of her hands clutches my hair, right at the crown where it hurts the most, the other binds to the arm of the couch behind her as she tugs, her knuckles whitening. As she dissolves into her climax, I watch her throat pulse with the climb of her heart as she does. I feel her tighten around my tongue inside her, and my lips glide against her clit, pulsing, pressing me for more. I give in, not stopping until she slides into another, with a guttural moan I feel against my cheeks as her thighs tighten around me.

  I kiss back up her body, her legs dropping to the side as I do, and kiss her swollen lips. She slides her tongue against my lips, onto my tongue, tasting what she left behind. I pull back too soon and catch the flutter of her eyes.

  She stares back at me dazed like she has forgotten her name.

  “Condoms.” I stand up from the couch, so I’m not tempted to continue anyway.

  She swallows, her lips smacking as she parts them and ta
lks over her breath. “Bathroom, um cabinet.”

  “They still any good?” I ask through my erratic breath.

  She scowls at me, flips me off. I grab her hand sticking her finger up and cover it with mine as I lean down to kiss her, hard and short before I venture off to search for them. I find them, grab one, and then three, before I pace back to her laying on the couch, a picture of finite beauty that belongs in the old novels and stories that could never describe it right.

  I toss them onto her belly. She frowns and holds them up. “Ambitious much?” She breathes.

  I arch my brow ignoring her as I tug my sweats and briefs off.

  My cock springs out, her eyes dip down and try to hide the shock in them. She licks her lips, her breath coming in short little pants again. I kneel between her legs, watching her mound glisten again, dripping as her clit puckers out her folds like a sweet, delicate flower.

  I catch my heart in my throat, out of breath from simply watching.

  She’s fucking perfect—the shape of her body worthy of the old stone sculptures that tell us how goddesses once looked. Her breasts, full mounds with faint pink, puckered nipples swell at the bottom meeting her convex, flat belly with clean, smooth lines that drag down to her groomed and trimmed light brown hair pointing down to her tight, swelling sex. The skin of her legs is deliciously soft and plush as are her hips and arms. Her body is a perfect womanly size.

  My cock brings me back to where her soft hand wraps around it, her coral nail polish bouncing off my tanned skin. She draws her hand up to my leaking tip, squeezing hard, too hard. I growl at her and jut my hips back. She purses her lips at me, and I lean down to kiss her pout away. The kiss becomes a raving mess of our tongues and lips again until it slowly dies itself down, her lips coax between mine, and I grow familiar with every inch of her.

  She dips her fingers into the hollow of my beard, her thumb brushing the end of our lips on both sides as she cups my jaw.

  My cock slides against her. I shiver from the sensation overtaking the nerves in my spine finding every other nerve in my body to berate. Her fingers trail down over the hair spattering my chest and navel through the hair above my cock and continuing down to grip the swell of my sack. I jolt in response, her fingers finding a place that eviscerates me. God, I can’t wait any longer.