Kiss Me Goodnight

by Michele Zurlo

  He made motions with his hands, waving air toward him as if the increased oxygen would aid in finding the words he sought. “Daisy never liked Nadia. She thought Nadia wanted to control me, that she wanted everything in the relationship to be about her. Kiss Me Goodnight is the third band I’ve formed. Nadia resented the time I spent with the other two, and my absence eventually broke them up.”

  “But you told me she was a proponent of pursuing your dreams.”

  “Her dreams. She wanted me to support her dreams. It took me so long to get through school because she resented the time it took away from her. I didn’t even want to go skiing. I wanted to go cage diving with sharks or zip lining, but we always did what she wanted. Before we left, Daisy reminded me that sometimes relationships don’t work out, and divorce didn’t mean I was a failure. She said there was somebody out there fated to be with me.”

  Dylan was a romantic. I never would have imagined that. And it sounded like Daisy was right when she told me he’d been over Nadia before she died. I wanted to be naked and next to him so badly I ached. Help me, but Thomas had hit the nail on the head: I loved Dylan with every fiber of my being, and hearing his explanation only made me love him more.

  Yet, I knew I couldn’t be the person out there who was right for him. I’m too cynical. My life experiences have jaded me to the point where I don’t believe in fate like he does—although maybe he could make me believe in magical things again. No, more than likely, I’d eventually ruin everything and break his heart. Am I more afraid of being happy or of doing something to make Dylan leave?

  I resisted the urge to move closer to him. “I’m pregnant.”

  A sharp intake of breath conveyed his shock. “Did you tell Thomas?”

  “Yes. He said he’d pay for the abortion, but I can’t do that.” Now that I’d started, there was no end in sight. Dylan had better take this hint to heart and move on with his life. “I’m going to have the baby. He came into the bathroom last night and saw us kissing. He wants nothing to do with me or the child, so I’m going to do this alone.”

  “Lacey—” Dylan clenched his fist.

  “He’s very wealthy, and he’s looking for someone who has more in common with his lifestyle. That’s not me, and he recognized that I’d never be who he wanted me to be. I’m not looking for pity.” I stood and took my bowl to the sink.

  Dylan came in while I was rinsing. “You aren’t alone. I’m here.”

  I had not been looking for him to say that. “It means I’m going to have to stop managing your band. I can’t lug an infant to your shows.”

  The dish in my hands grew blurry, and I became conscious of the fact that I was crying.

  With his hands on my waist, he turned me around to face him. Then he halted the flow of water from the faucet. “Did Thomas really say he saw us?”

  I shook my head.

  “Why would you—” He stopped talking, but his jaw worked to make several words. None of them came out. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  Again, I shook my head.

  “This is that lying compulsion you have, isn’t it?”

  Shock coursed through me for all of a millisecond, and I realized he knew my secret. “Who told you?”

  “Jane let it slip one night. She’d imbibed a little too much, and she asked if you’d lied to me yet. Luma chimed in and told me to ask direct questions that could be answered with one word.” No pity waited in the depths of his eyes. He appeared neither pleased nor pissed. It took me a moment to recognize firm patience.

  I tried to push him away, but I was trapped between him and the counter. I had no leverage. “So, you were just waiting to trip me up.”

  “No. When Jane sobered up the next day, she called to tell me you haven’t lied in months, that this is the longest you’ve gone, and that it was because of me you were trying so hard. I have to say—you’re quite convincing.”

  That was not news to me, but I still felt like crap. I’d just said unflattering things about Thomas, and he’d been nothing but kind to me. Even when he dumped me, he’d been compassionate. “Thomas broke up with me because he said I was in love with you, and you wrote all your songs about me. He and I never slept together.”

  “Never?”

  Aware that he was on lie-alert, I answered with one word. “Never. I wanted to wait until the sixth date. We only went out five times.”

  “Lacey, I need to know—why did you lie to me?”

  “I wanted you to leave. You make me feel things, and I don’t have control over any of it.” I swallowed. “I need to have control over my feelings.”

  “No,” he said. “You don’t need to control them. You need to let go and revel, wallow, or whatever—but you need to experience your feelings without fearing them.”

  I was afraid. I didn’t want to be swallowed whole by something inside me. “Lying relieves stress. When I’m anxious, nervous, or afraid, I lie.” I shrugged. “Doing it makes me feel better, at least in the moment. Sometimes it makes me feel really good.”

  “You need to turn to other things that make you feel good. Healthy things that don’t hurt you or others.” His tender tone and the glimmer in his eyes swept me away.

  He kissed me, unleashing all kinds of hungry passion. The anxiety that had controlled me slipped away, replaced with a maelstrom of a different kind. I tugged at his shirt, and he lifted his arms so I could remove it. The smooth glide of his skin felt heavenly under my hands, and the taste of his tongue left me desperate for more.

  Breaking off, he moved his lips down my chin to my neck. His hands roamed my hips and back. Then he returned to capture my lips. At the same time, he ran his hands up my sides, raising my arms above my head. When he reversed course, I understood that he wanted them left up there. On his second pass, he lifted my sweatshirt. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and his move bared my chest.

  As he closed his hand over my breast, I raked my nails across his shoulders. He growled and bit my earlobe. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Lacey. I just didn’t want to rush, make a mistake. I didn’t want to get it wrong.”

  It certainly didn’t feel wrong. In my whole life, I’d never felt so right. “I thought you were playing games, and you weren’t all that into me.” I teased my fingertips above the waistband of his jeans.

  “I was into you from the first moment I saw you. It scared me how into you I was.” He turned me, placing my back was against his chest. Moving my hair, he kissed a path down my neck.

  Chills ran rampant down my spine. He cupped my breasts, sank his teeth into my shoulder, and ground his cock against my ass. I gasped. “I want you inside me.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have any condoms handy, would you? I came prepared to comfort a friend.”

  “You’re doing a great job so far.”

  He squeezed my nipple in retribution, but I only moaned and arched against him.

  Fortunately, I had a box in my kitchen junk drawer. I’d purchased them in anticipation of my sixth date with Thomas. Being two years out of practice, I hadn’t been sure where they should go, and my bathroom cupboards were jammed with shampoo and towels—six of everything. I fumbled for the box, and it took a coordinated effort to open it.

  We’d waited too long to draw this out now. I shoved my sweats down and kicked them off one foot. Then I turned and unbuttoned and unzipped Dylan’s jeans, shoving them out of the way as he rolled on a condom.

  The tattoo of a rosebud greeted me from his upper thigh.

  He turned me around again and guided himself in. I braced my hands against the counter and arched my back. The first few strokes were tentative and slow, but with the third thrust, he lifted me off my feet. I moaned and fell forward. He caught me.

  “Hang on, Lacey. I’m not going to be very gentle this time.”

  And he wasn’t. He pounded into me, filling my body and my soul. Heat spiraled in my core, and I came much too quickly. Dylan’s climax followed mine. He buried himself deeply and stayed there for the
longest time. I didn’t mind because I never wanted to be apart.

  As our bodies cooled, Dylan got rid of the rest of our clothes. My sweats and panties were around one ankle, so I didn’t have much left to strip away.

  “I’m getting cold.”

  He lifted me and guided my legs around his waist. “Don’t worry; I’ll keep you warm. Grab the condoms.”

  I snagged them as we went by.

  “I wrote lyrics to another song about you.” He shifted to hold me with one hand so he could open my bedroom door.

  “When will I get to hear it?”

  He fell onto the bed with me in the middle. “Not sure. I didn’t want you to get mad at me again. The other songs were general enough, but this one is pretty specific.”

  I rolled us so I was on top. Sitting up afforded me a gorgeous view. I touched him slowly, searching out the places that made his eyes turn a darker shade of teal.

  “What’s it called?”

  “Six.”

  I stuttered in my caresses. “Six. Because I have to wash my hands six times?”

  He stroked his palms over my thighs and up to my ribs. “You need six of everything. Or a multiple of six.”

  “You noticed.” I was impressed. Most people didn’t pick up on it.

  “I like your quirks, but I didn’t know if you were touchy about them.”

  He put a pretty spin on my OCD. I snorted. “Lying isn’t a quirk.”

  “One lie in six months isn’t bad, Lacey. Most people tell multiple lies each day. If you look at it that way, you’re the most honest person I know.” He wet his fingertip and circled my nipple. “Besides, I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about how you need six of everything.”

  He sat up and closed his hot mouth on my areola. He played with that nub, teasing it to a peak with his teeth and tongue. I fisted my hands in his hair, probably pulling too hard, but I didn’t care. By the time he moved on to my other breast, molten need pulsed through my veins. If he was going to keep doing that, I needed something to ride.

  The box of condoms had fallen on the mattress next to us. I found one and ripped open the wrapper.

  Dylan regarded it with amusement. “I just came. No man recovers that fast.”

  “It’s been ten minutes.”

  “I need ten more.” He flipped me onto my back and kissed a path down my front. “Don’t worry; I’ve read enough lesbian romance novels to know how to keep you occupied for that long.”

  Finding out he read romance novels wasn’t surprising. Him admitting to it did surprise me. Also, the lesbian part. I wanted to know about the lesbian part. “Lesbian romance novels?”

  “Yep. Unless it involves my sister, girl-on-girl action is hot. Audra has a huge collection on her tablet, and it’s been a lonely year. That, and I can picture you as both of them without some dude’s junk getting in the way.”

  He scooted to lay next to me. The length of him pressed against me, and I took a minute to admire. When my gaze returned to his face, I knew he’d spent the time doing the same thing.

  Spreading his hand wide, he slid it from my stomach to my throat. The slow, sensual glide and the sheer possessiveness of the action got me going almost as much as having his mouth on my nipple. Then he reversed direction, not stopping until he made it to the apex of my thighs, and a nudge had me moving my legs apart.

  I expected him to go for gold, but he didn’t touch my pink places. Instead he massaged my inner thighs, his fingertips moving in kneading spirals that drew ever closer to where I wanted him. I whimpered at his teasing, but he only grinned.

  As his thighs were nearby, I slipped my hand between them and gave him back some of what he gave. His cock stirred to life, and I returned his grin.

  I’d upped the stakes, and he responded nicely. He slid his fingertips through my wetness, exploring me at a leisurely pace. He circled my clit and stroked the sensitive flesh between there and my entrance. In minutes, he had me close to coming.

  “Harder.”

  He took direction perfectly. I pumped my hips against his hand. Heat built, and I sensed my climax. Careful not to stop him, I grabbed his shoulder. My body bucked, arching off the bed as I shouted.

  Before the pulsing stopped, he rolled on the condom I’d been holding and positioned himself between my legs. “I’m going to make you come again.”

  I wasn’t sure if I could. I’d tried this before with Davey and Simon. It hadn’t worked. I might not need twenty minutes between rounds, but I did need a few. “Dylan, let me rest for a bit.”

  He dropped his shoulders and hooked them under my knees. “No rest for the wicked.”

  The yoga pants I like to wear are mostly for show. I wasn’t limber enough to do this. I wanted to protest, but he plunged in, and all I could think about was the way he filled me. He withdrew slowly only to thrust back quickly. Then he would withdraw quickly and thrust back slowly. He didn’t set any kind of discernible pattern, and my body couldn’t acclimate to his style.

  “You’re teasing me.”

  “You teased me for months. This is payback.”

  “Months? I never teased you.”

  “Tight shirts.” He thrust hard and fast. “Shorts. Short skirts.” He withdrew slowly and reversed direction without changing his speed. “Cherry lip gloss—all the fucking time.”

  I liked my lip gloss, but I hadn’t been aware he’d noticed it. That observation/accusation made me inordinately happy. “You like my lip gloss?”

  “You taste of it every time I kiss you. I can’t eat a goddamn piece of fruit without thinking about you.”

  “You say the sweetest things.”

  He leaned forward and put his weight on his hands. My legs slid from his shoulders, down his arms. This left me splayed open, and it released some of the tension on my legs.

  “Those leggings you’ve been wearing recently. They hug your ass. You have an exceptionally nice ass.”

  I liked the way he gave a compliment. “They’re yoga pants. Leggings are tight all the way down.”

  “Woman, I don’t want a fashion lesson.”

  “Well, then shut up and fuck me.”

  He did. No more playing around. He made circular motions with his hips and released my legs to suck on my nipples. He kissed the sensitive places on my neck and nibbled my earlobes. I writhed in his arms, coming twice before he finally gave in to his passion.

  I wasn’t aware of how sweaty we were until he collapsed on top of me. By that point, I was too tired to care.

  We must have dozed off because I awoke to the ringing of my cell phone. Dylan had rolled to the side, but his arm and leg were across me, wrapping me and keeping me in his embrace. Gingerly, I tried to move him without waking him, but his limbs were heavy. I ended up shoving them.

  He didn’t budge. I threw a sleep shirt over my head and looked back to see if he’d stirred. There he was, on my bed, in the place I’d wanted him for so long, still in dreamland. His dark hair was messy, matted in some places and standing on end in others. I looked over his long body, taking in his magnificent shoulders and arms, ass and thighs. I could look at him all day, but my cell chirped to let me know there was a message.

  I expected my mother to call, or else I would’ve let it go. When I got to the living room, it turned out I had three voice messages. Luma, Jane, and my mother had all called. Daisy and Levi had texted me. Gavin had sent me a picture of a kitten.

  I listened to my messages, called my mom to assure her I was fine, and returned the texts.

  Dylan stumbled out of the bedroom, naked as a jaybird and just as self-conscious. “What are you doing?”

  “Well, I posted on KMG’s Facebook page that the lead singer has just gotten laid, and you know how your sister trolls that thing. She texted me a high-five. Of course, some of your fans are pissed. They think you should remain single and available. Others sent you a high-five and requested photos.”

  He blinked at me. “Was that a joke?”

  I wasn�
��t offended. The man was barely awake. “I think it qualifies as a lie.”

  He nodded. “Okay, good. I’m going to get some water, and then I’m going to jump in the shower. Why don’t you join me? I’m not finished with you yet today.”

  He’d made me come four times. I was impressed that he wanted another round. I finished texting Daisy—she’d wanted to know if Dylan and I were okay—and joined him in the shower.

  I found him with his face under the spray. Rivulets ran down his body, highlighting the ripples. Playing guitar and lugging equipment kept him in prime condition. I wrapped my arms around him and snuggled against his back.

  “So, am I really the second woman you’ve slept with?”

  “Yep.”

  My hands tingled. When he moved out of the way, I washed them. This wasn’t something I’d done in the shower since I was a teen hiding my habit from my mom and John.

  Dylan wrapped his arms around me. “Wanna tell me what you’re anxious about?”

  “What makes you think I’m anxious?”

  “The hand washing is an obvious tell.”

  “I guess I’m wondering what this afternoon means to you.”

  He moved out of the spray and searched through my shampoo collection. “Do you have anything that smells manly?”

  “Nope. You maybe want to go with the vanilla. It has the lightest scent.”

  He selected cherry and soaped his hair. When he wrinkled his nose at me, I knew he was considering how to address my concern. “I guess I don’t really understand the question.”

  “You said you came here to support a friend.”

  “And to bring you chili. I remembered you like it.” He rinsed and conditioned. That explained the softness of his hair.

  He was purposely leaving me hanging. “Dylan…”

  “Feel my face. Tell me if that’s too rough for you. I shaved this morning, but sometimes I need to do it again in the evening.”

  I’d feel his face all right. I’d feel it the way I felt his nose when he wrote that damn song. “If you’d rather not answer, I wish you’d just say so. I don’t like games.”