by Beth Michele
“Well, I’m glad we got that settled,” he teases, pressing his forehead to mine. “Hungry?”
“Very, you?”
“Yes, but…,” he peers around the room, then back to me, “not for food.” His nose skims my cheek and his lips follow. “For you.”
My breath catches in my dry throat; I’m in dire need of something to cool me down—like a bucket of ice water.
“Umm….”
“Umm.” He chuckles and I swat his arm. “Help me put the rest of the plates out, Hopper.”
By the time we sit down to dinner, I’m so pent up that I can hardly eat. Dylan’s hand is caressing mine under the table. My skin is too tight for my own body, and the heat is making me crazy.
My mind is buzzing with everything that’s happened in the last few days and I laugh internally at myself. Who am I kidding? This is years in the making.
Several long minutes go by and I’ve had all I can take. My chair makes a screeching noise against the wood floor as I abruptly push it back, and all eyes fall on me. “Just using the bathroom.” I smile, and everyone goes back to their plates and the conversation, to which I was paying little attention.
I close and lock the door behind me, my eyes drifting shut when the scent of Dylan’s soap invades my senses, wrapping me up in him.
I scramble to the sink. One glance at my face says it all: skin flushed, eyes bright, tiny beads of sweat dotting my upper lip. Jesus. I’m a walking billboard for desire.
Quickly, I turn the faucet to cold and splash some water on my cheeks, patting my face with a nearby towel. This is Dylan, I keep reminding myself. My best friend. The boy I ate worms with—but that’s the thing. This. Is. Dylan.
I pace back and forth across the tile floor, blowing out a couple of breaths to try to steady myself. Meanwhile, my imagination is running wild: Dylan in the shower, Dylan’s lips, Dylan’s everything.
“Gah!” I exhale another loud breath, this one in frustration, and freeze when I hear his voice.
“Evie? You okay?”
Crap.
“Yes, fine,” I call out, “I’ll be right down.” Though I’m sure he went downstairs, I flush the toilet for effect. I certainly don’t expect to collide with him when I open the door. “Dylan! You startled me!” I push against the solid muscle of his chest and he returns the favor by backing me up against the wall.
“You knew I was out here,” he insinuates with a grin, his body too close now, my heart beating faster.
“Did not.”
“Did too.” He lays his palm on one side of my head, flat against the wall, effectively caging me in.
Looking down, I fumble with the buttons on my sweater. “What are you doing up here anyway? I’ve only been gone a minute.”
“A minute too long,” he whispers, bringing his face nearer to mine, his breath warm against my cheek. “I missed you.”
“Dylan.” I glance up, finally meeting his eyes. His words carry sweetness but his look is smoldering. His gaze kisses every part of me before his lips ever touch my skin. Anticipation rushes through my blood. I want his mouth on me so badly, I’m shaking.
“I can’t concentrate on eating. All I can think about is you. I know what you taste like now and all I can think about is kissing you,” his lips brush mine once, “again,” then twice, “and again,” he murmurs, nipping at my mouth, “and again.” He traces the curve of my bottom lip with his tongue and I let out a moan. I can’t help it. It feels too good.
“Kiss me, Dylan.”
The words come out as a whimper and I part my lips, begging him to come inside. He slides his tongue against mine, long, gentle strokes that send shivers racing across every inch of my skin. Like he’s been waiting forever. He goes slow, teasing, licking, even small bites that drive me absolutely insane. Because I’ve been waiting forever too.
My hands come up to sift through his hair as his tongue curls around mine and he groans, the sound traveling to the spot between my legs. I moan into his mouth again, my skin burning so badly for his touch, wanting his hands all over me.
He strokes my cheek with the backs of his fingers, then drags his palms down the bend of my neck, stopping just at my collarbone. The sensation prickles my flesh, stiffening my nipples against the silky fabric. I shock myself when I arch my back, willing him to go lower. He doesn’t, though. He backs away from our kiss, both of us panting.
“Evie….” The breathy way he says my name makes me want to drop to my knees and take him in my mouth, pleasure him in a way I’ve never done for anyone before.
His fingers slip under the spaghetti strap of my camisole, teasing my skin as he slides it back and forth over my shoulder, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. “You wore this for me.” It comes out more of a statement than a question, but I respond to it anyway.
“Yes,” I breathe against his lips.
“Why?” He searches my eyes as though he’ll find the answer there.
“I wanted you to notice me.” My voice is hesitant, my words truthful.
“Evie. You could be wearing a parka, standing in the middle of the Arctic, and I’d notice you.” He shoots me a roguish grin. “I won’t lie, though. You look ridiculously sexy and I’d like to take you to my room right now and show you what else I can do with my hands besides dip strawberries.”
My head falls back on a laugh and he attacks my neck with his lips.
“Oh God,” I moan, when a cough sounds at the bottom of the stairs.
“Well, there you are.” Grandma Molly strums her fingers on the banister, unable to hide her pleased smile. “I thought the house had swallowed you up. We’re getting ready to have dessert if you’re interested.”
“I’ve got my dessert right here, Gran,” Dylan offers, and my mouth falls to the floor.
Grandma Molly shakes her head and laughs. “Dylan Reid. What is it you kids say?” She gives the side of her head a thoughtful tap. “Too much information.”
“You’re crazy!” I shout, when she walks away. “That’s your grandma, for heaven’s sakes!”
“Relax, Hopper.” Dylan tugs me to his side. “She knows how I feel about you.”
She does?
I’d like to ask him what he means, since I need everything spelled out for me, but get distracted when we come downstairs. Everyone is hanging out in the living room, watching television. Nora’s legs are resting in Braden’s lap. I have no idea what to make of that. Braden glares at us, a forkful of pie on its way to his mouth.
“Well, well,” he smirks, “look who decided to join us.” Dylan flips him off with a grin and scoots me into the kitchen before I have a chance to make eye contact with Nora.
“Do you want some pie?” Dylan already has a spoon in the dish, not bothering with a plate.
“No, I’m good. Actually, I’m kind of tired. I was thinking about heading home.”
He pauses with the spoon in midair. “Already?” Disappointment extinguishes his smile. But he wouldn’t be frowning if he knew what I was thinking.
“Yeah. Will you walk me?” I ask and he perks up.
“Sure.”
Grandma Molly is sitting at the dining room table, drinking tea. Dylan taps her on the shoulder. “Gran, I’m going to walk Evie home.”
“Oh. Okay, dear.” She stands up and follows us back into the kitchen, holding her arms open to me. I fall into them, and the warmth of her embrace reminds me of how much I miss my mother’s hugs. My bones tingle with longing, though I know it can never be satisfied.
She’s just about to let me go when she leans close to my ear, whispering, “You make him happy.”
Joy blossoms in my chest and a full-on smile breaks out across my cheeks.
When she faces me again, she nods and grins as if to make sure I understand. Luckily, Dylan is picking at the pie and completely oblivious.
“Thank you, Grandma Molly, for dinner. It was delicious.”
“Of course.” She crosses the small kitchen, slapping Dylan’s han
d away from the pie. “Let me give you some pie to take,” she winks, “that hasn’t been gnawed at.” I laugh and Dylan twines his fingers with mine.
Little does Grandma know, he makes me happy too.
“All right, kids,” Dylan announces as we pass by the living room. “I’ll be back.”
“Later, guys.” I glare at Nora and she makes a phone gesture with her hand, pressing it to her ear.
“Call me,” she mouths, and I wave in acknowledgement before Dylan leads me outside.
Lost in my thoughts, I can’t find any words as we stroll across the street.
It’s funny how confident I felt with Dylan when we were just friends, but now it’s different. My belly is littered with nervous emotion. I want desperately to move forward, but at the same time, I’m afraid.
“I’m glad you came tonight.”
We’re standing on the front porch, but it might as well be the edge of a cliff. The panic seizing my chest eases a little when I look up to find Dylan smiling.
“So, do you want to come in?” I ask, pinning my lip between my teeth.
“Umm,” he teases, “should I tell you I need time to think about it? Or would a hell yes be too forward?”
I make a loud noise by clicking my tongue, then turn around and unlock the door. “Come on, wise guy.”
SHE’S BARELY IN the door when I crowd her against it. God, she smells good. Her breath is heavy against my neck as I stare down at the exposed strip of skin between her breasts, hungry to run my tongue along her soft flesh, kiss my way over every inch of her. The tips of her nipples are pressing into my shirt and I want to peel away her sexy top so I can wrap my lips around them. For some reason I swallow, thinking maybe that will lessen the throbbing in my jeans. I pull back and frame her face, my lips hovering above hers. “Is Zoey home?”
“No.” She hardly gets the word out before I crash my lips to hers, coaxing her to open for me so I can taste her again. I slip my tongue in deep, stroking the roof of her mouth as she whimpers, the sound clinging to my skin, setting me on fire. I clutch her hips, her waist, her ass, tugging her against me, desperately needing to erase any distance between us. She responds by snaking her hands under my shirt, trailing up my back with her nails, making me shudder from that simple touch alone.
“Come on,” she whispers, pulling away from my mouth, then she takes my hand and leads me up the stairs.
It’s as if I’m entering the gates of heaven. Part of me thinks this must be a dream. But when we enter her room and she stands in front of me practically trembling as she takes off her sweater, the reality of us is all too real.
The glow of the moon streams through her window, and in the faint light she looks like an angel with flowing red hair—my angel. I take a step toward her, near enough that I can curl a strand behind her ear.
“Evie….” I wait until she lifts her gaze to mine, blue eyes blazing with emotion. So much, that I don’t know how I could have missed it before. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I want you, I do, but I’m willing to wait or start slow, whatever you want. We can even just kiss until our lips fall off.” I grin and her mouth curves into that smile, the one that melts my heart. “Remember,” I gently grasp her chin, “this is me, you know?”
“Yes,” her voice is soft, “it is you, Dylan.” Her thumb lightly trails the scar along my jaw. “That’s why it means so much.” She presses a kiss to my lips that’s as gentle as a whisper before backing away.
Her gaze bores into mine as she lowers her hands, pushing the straps of her top down, then reaching for the seam and lifting it away from her skin. I still, but my breathing grows heavy, betraying me. My breaths come hard and fast, heart booming inside my chest as she bares herself to me. The shirt disappears behind her and I’m in awe of her beauty. Her breasts are full and round, nipples the softest pink, and I can’t stop staring.
“Jesus, Evie, you’re beautiful,” I murmur, and she comes closer, her heart playing a similar beat. “More beautiful than in my dreams.” I take her shaky hand and hold it against my chest as her soft lips begin to circle around mine.
“Touch me, Dylan,” she whispers against my mouth, and now I’m the one who’s shaking. This is the girl I’ve always wanted, but I need it to be right for her. “I want you to,” she says again, almost as if she senses the conflict in my brain. It’s not her words that convince me though. It’s the riveting certainty in her eyes that erases any lingering doubt in my mind.
My hands come up to her face, wandering over her brow, the angle of her cheek, her chin, her lips. Her tongue pokes out to wet my thumb before I drag it down her jaw, the bend of her neck, the valley between her breasts. Her lips are parted now, breath coming in short pants as my finger flicks over the hardened peak of her nipple. The noise of pleasure she lets out has my erection straining against the zipper of my jeans. I want so much to take her in my mouth, trail my lips over her sweetness.
“More, Dylan,” she moans, bringing my other hand up to cup her breast. My brain is warring with my body, my heart about to jump out of my chest and land on the floor. But I’m letting her take the lead. If this were anyone else, I’d have been all over them by now. But this is Evie. My Evie. And so I’m effectively paralyzed… by love, by desire, by… her.
I give her what she wants though, drawing a path down her neck with my tongue, sucking on her skin as I knead her breasts. Her gentle fingertips travel underneath my shirt and over my abdomen, waking me. I’m unaware of anything except that my body has come alive, her touch a zap of electricity to every fiber of my being. Her fingers journey upward and my muscles ripple under their movement.
“Evie….” My voice sounds hoarse even to my own ears as she pushes my shirt up and over my head. With nothing between us, my arms go around her waist and hers loop around my neck, her hands sliding through my hair. “I want you so much, Evie,” I groan, dropping my head to catch her lips again, dipping my tongue into her mouth as I caress the small of her back. Her skin is satiny smooth and my fingers travel lower until they reach the edge of her jeans, plunging inside the waistband, and that’s when she abruptly breaks away. “Evie, I’m sorry—”
She presses a finger to my lips before she reaches down, slipping her heels off and flinging them in the corner. The next to go is the button on her jeans. She pops it, the sound resonating in my groin. I watch her, mesmerized, as she shimmies out of them, leaving her in nothing but purple lace panties. It has to be the hottest sight I’ve ever seen. All I can think about is touching her, feeling her, holding her.
“Purple, huh?” I tease, and when her gaze climbs to mine, her skin is flushed, one corner of her mouth hitched up into a mischievous grin.
“You know it. Your turn.” She gestures toward my pants, a sudden confidence taking over and making her even sexier, if that’s possible.
I toe off my sneakers then fumble with my jeans, surprised that I can even get them past my hard-on. When I finally shake them off and kick them to the side, Evie lowers her stare. She licks her lips and the vision of her mouth closed around me is almost too much.
“Get over here,” I demand, and she squeaks when I haul her off her feet, tossing us both onto the bed.
Heavy breathing quickly replaces our laughter. Every inch of her body is molded to mine and I’m high on her, drugged by her beauty, her touch, her scent. My nerve endings are on heightened awareness, limbs tingling at her proximity. Her leg is hooked over mine and her knee is brushing my erection, desperate for her attention.
“Evie,” I whisper, my voice husky, losing what little control I have left.
Reaching up, she glides her finger over the contour of my mouth and I gasp before pulling it between my lips, nipping at it with my tongue. She makes that whimpering sound again and it’s nearly painful, dragging a raging desire from bones that have been asleep, waiting for her to wake me. I roll over onto my side, then raise myself up with my elbows so I’m hovering just above her.
“You’r
e so damn sweet, Evie.” I touch my lips to hers, light and soft, then descend on her skin. My tongue is craving her taste and I whisk it down her jaw, the delicate curve of her neck, the dip of her collarbone. My mouth finds her pebbled nipple, grazing it with my teeth, and she cries out. But I don’t stop there.
I move to her other breast, swirling my tongue over her tight peak. She moans loudly and begins to rub herself against me, the friction so intense I’m afraid I might actually embarrass myself and explode. I drop my head and rain kisses down her belly, glancing up when I reach the edge of her panties. “I want to taste you. Can I taste you?”
“Yes,” she breathes out, her face flushed, eager. She lifts herself up and I slide her panties off.
“So pretty, Evie. Open your legs for me,” I rasp, closing my eyes as I inhale the scent of her arousal. I slide a finger through her folds and take a deep breath when I discover how wet she is. I want inside her so badly. “So wet,” I murmur, and she moans as my tongue finds her center, sweeping back and forth over her warmth. Soft noises erupt from her throat, her hands clutch at the sheets, telling me it won’t be long.
“Dylan,” she cries, as she falls over the edge and I slowly bring her down, licking through her wetness as she rides out the wave. My lips drift to her inner thigh, leaving tender kisses up and down her skin. By the time I crawl back up the bed, her breathing has leveled out, her cheeks are rosy and content. “That was….”
“Amazing,” I finish, and she grins as I tug her to my side and she curls into my chest.
“Well, for me it was,” she confesses, her finger trailing along my neck.
“It was for me, too. Making you feel good. Hearing you moan. I’d like more of that, please.”
She glances up at me with a shy smile. “I guess I’m kind of loud.”
“I think you’re kind of perfect.” I kiss the tip of her nose and she melts into me.
