It’s not until she feels the hardness of the butcher block counter against her lower back that she realizes Dylan has been walking her backwards in the kitchen. Removing his hands from her hair, he reaches down and grabs her ass, lifting her up onto the counter. Standing between her legs, he rubs his growing erection against her center, causing her to moan into his mouth.
Sydney’s hands move of their own volition, gliding under his shirt, then up his bare skin as she revels in the feel of his muscles bunching under her touch.
“Dylan,” she whimpers against his mouth.
“I know, Angel,” he replies, reaching his hand forward to undo her pants.
A faint buzzing emits from somewhere in the room. The distraction is an unwelcome intrusion that brings Sydney back from the euphoria where she had been so happily dwelling.
“Dylan,” she repeats, then she grabs a hold of his wrist, halting his movements. “It’s the alarm, we need to open soon.”
She sits there staring at Dylan, waiting for him to move, but he simply maintains her eye contact.
“Lips of an angel.”
“Huh?”
“That’s the song,” he answers before placing both of his hands on her jaw and tilting her head back to capture her lips once more. “This will be continued.”
“I don’t know if it’s such a good idea. Someone could have seen us and I don’t date, ever.”
Dylan steps back from her and runs his fingers through his hair, causing the ends to stick out in various directions instead of the sleek look he seems to maintain. Coming to a conclusion of his own, he moves towards her once again, his face hovering inches from hers.
“Angel, you’re not getting a choice. I want you. You want me. It will happen. Be ready for me, right here, when we close tonight.”
And then he stalks away towards the back storage room, leaving Sydney perched on her counter, alarm blaring, and her heart pounding.
How will I get out of this one? She asks herself.
But she already knows the answer.
She can’t. And she really doesn’t want to.
YLAN MAKES HIS WAY back to the storage room to try to get a handle on himself and his “friend”, who seems to have momentarily taken control of his brain.
He knows and understands the first rule of being an FBI agent: never get involved personally, especially with victims. Dylan knows second hand what can happen when an agent lets his attraction for a victim aim his ways. It’s why his mentor Ron is now relegated to a desk job…and a wheelchair. Ron had been working undercover tracking a sex-ring syndicate when he had fallen head-over-heels for a widowed mother who was searching for her young daughter – one of many young victims kidnapped by the syndicate. Long story short, Dylan had been the one to visit Ron in the hospital after all hell had broken loose and he had taken a few shots to the spinal column, trying to protect the children he was “supposed” to be watching. Most of the young girls had been killed in the crossfire that left Ron paralyzed, and the young mother had taken her life when she learned she had lost her daughter. Dylan had no desire to find himself in Ron’s position.
But something about Sydney Connelly had pulled him in and then wrapped him up tight from the moment he met her. He can’t escape the hold, the vice-like grip, she seems to have on him, no matter how hard he tries. To make matters worse, no one on his team has an inkling of activity regarding her; they only know that she has been found by a drug ring who, according to intel, is hell-bent on killing her off, and she needs protection.
Sydney is something else. She is strong and confident, but there is glimpse of fear behind her beautiful brown eyes - eyes that shine like the smoothest whiskey and Dylan finds himself getting drunk with merely a glance. She has an understated sexiness. From what Dylan can tell she doesn’t seem like the kind of women who typically throw themselves at him. No, Sydney is comfortable in her tight black pants and a loosely fitted t-shirt. He has only seen her dressed up once: for their interview the previous day, when she had worn a flowing black skirt and pink sleeveless shirt. He loves that her body isn’t stick thin. She has the curvy figure of someone who takes pride in the food that she makes, but still maintains a healthy lifestyle.
He had done his research on her prior to coming on board. She is one of the middle daughters of a well-known family in Carson, North Carolina. She attended a culinary arts school in Raleigh before her run-in with members of the gang. She had been targeted because her boyfriend at the time was working undercover and got a little too close to the boss man. An undercover agent named Caleb Barnes. The Kingpin’s minions wanted to make sure the man knew his place. There was not a single file in the FBI database for a Caleb Barnes, which was good for him, because Dylan wanted to beat his face in for putting Sydney in any danger. The man should have known better. When you’re undercover, relationships are pretty much a no-go.
Dylan didn’t understand how someone could leave a beautiful woman like Sydney in a predicament like that, but who was he to argue? It had given him the opportunity he has now.
Finally able to walk again without his stiff erection rubbing insistently against his jeans, he makes his way back to the kitchen area. He watches as Sydney leans over the display case, arranging some chocolate-covered strawberries and pineapple, giving Dylan a view of her glorious backside. It is taut and shapely, that of a woman who takes care of the muscles in that region. Dylan expects with all the cooking, baking, and bending that Sydney does in the shop, her perfect form isn’t achieved by going to the gym. Frankly, he doubts she has time.
“What would you like me to do?” Dylan asks as he leans against the butcher block island, resting his elbows on the wood, trying to push back the recent vision of her pressed up against him on that same surface.
Sydney startles, as if she has already forgotten that someone else is in the shop with her. She turns in his direction and rests her body against the display case. Dylan can’t help but smile at her reddened cheeks, the tell-tale after effects from their earlier make-out session.
“Sydney?”
“Oh, yes. Um… could you start working on a few of the bagel sandwiches I serve for lunch so that they’re ready to go? I can work the register for now and then we can trade.”
“Absolutely.”
Dylan and Sydney work in companionable silence most of the morning, and the two are able to knock out a few recipes and items before the lunch crowd explodes through the doors. That’s when Dylan gets a dose of the female variety in Carson. A long line of scantily clad women queue up in the shop, waiting to get a glimpse of the new man in town.
“Sydney?” Dylan asks, turning the corner to take over the register.
“Yes?” she replies, walking towards him, head bent over a mixing bowl as she prepares a new batch of chocolate ganache. “Oh!” She chuckles and then adds, “Scared of a few ladies? I’m sure you can handle it.”
He juts out his hand to stroke her waist and squeezes her gently. “I can, but can you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think they are here regarding anything you have on display, besides me. Most of them have pieces of paper with their phone numbers on them. I can see that from here.”
Sydney glances back at the women who continue piling into her bakery. Dylan watches as her face falls slightly and then she smiles again, but this one is forced. It doesn’t meet her magnificent eyes.
“Sure, it’s fine. Make some good sales.”
And with that she goes back towards the kitchen.
Luckily, the single ladies of Carson who have long been dreaming of a day such as this take the hint and at least order some desserts before thrusting their numbers (and plastic- or silicone-filled tits) in his direction. He sighs with relief when the last customer leaves, and he moves back towards the kitchen where he hears Sydney singing off-key. He watches her in amusement and nods towards Jessica as she slinks in from the back door with a flustered expression on her face.
As her g
aze lands on Sydney and then Dylan, he shakes his head, asking her to remain silent. She nods in recognition and moves towards the office to drop off her things.
Dylan continues to watch Sydney move with a rhythm he didn’t know she possessed, though accompanied by a vocal talent that left much to be desired.
During a spin on the balls of her feet, Sydney catches Dylan’s stare and stumbles back into the industrial fridge.
“How long have you been standing there watching me?”
He chuckles and moves towards her.
“Just a minute or so. I didn’t realize that you could move like that. You could have been a dancer in a previous life.”
“Thanks. Mom made us take dancing lessons when we were younger, so at least I don’t have two left feet.”
As Dylan moves into her space, she backs into the fridge until she has no place left to retreat.
“Dylan,” Sydney whispers as he brings his body within an inch of hers.
“Yes, Angel?”
“I…” she begins before she is interrupted by Jessica shouting that she is taking over the register.
Dylan steps away when he watches Sydney’s eyes enlarge in surprise. She’s a professional and Dylan instantly recognizes the signs of her needing to protect herself and her business. He allows her to slip past him and he runs his hands through his hair in frustration. In two days, that woman has developed such a tight hold on him, he isn’t sure he will ever be able to break free.
The remainder of the afternoon slips by with remnants of cookies and cakes left behind after a large order for Carson’s Lady Busy Bees. They struck more fear into Dylan than the cluster of twenty-somethings that morning. He could tell that these women were calculating and gathering information – they were the town’s gossip command center, and he was their topic of choice. Smartly, Sydney had suggested he stay in the back while she helped load the order so that he didn’t have to succumb to the incessant questioning. Not as though that stopped their wizened eyes from examining him from a distance. That skill alone created more fear in him than some of the interrogations he had been a part of.
A swash of red hair breezes past him and heads towards Sydney’s office, where she has been holed up for the past twenty minutes.
From a distance, he can hear Jessica telling Sydney that the register has been counted down and all dishes either boxed up or refrigerated. Sydney had mentioned that one of the workers at the production plant stops by nightly to grab the left-over goods, then takes them to the homeless shelter in Asheville where his mother works. Dylan appreciates the gesture and smiles at the knowledge the food isn’t going to waste.
Dylan waits until he hears the back door close before he makes his move towards Sydney’s office.
“So, Sydney. How do you think we did today?” he asks nonchalantly as he leans against the corner of her desk.
Not taking her eyes off the computer, she says, “I think it went well. I still have a few more interviews before I will make my decision, but I appreciate you taking the time to come here and complete the test run.”
Leaning forward, Dylan takes one of the arms of her leather desk chair and twirls it towards him, forcing her attention on him.
“Sydney, stand up,” he commands, and he watches as her eyes dilate in desire.
She hesitantly rises from her chair, as if possessed, and positions herself in line with his gaze.
“You have two minutes to strip yourself of all clothes but your apron. I want you to wait for me in front of your wood counter. We’re going to pick up where we left off this morning.”
“I don’t think it’s the best idea,” she says not in rejection, but as a sense of self-preservation.
“Yes, you do.” He whispers huskily, “Your eyes are dilated, your breathing has increased, your nipples are hard, and I can smell your sweet scent from here.”
“How can you…?”
“Sydney,” he sighs as he crosses his arms across his chest. “Do it. Now.”
She hesitates for only a moment and licks her lips, but then glances down at the floor and scurries past him, removing her shirt as she moves towards the kitchen.
Good girl.
Dylan forces himself to wait for a moment before following her bread crumb trail of clothes to the desired destination. What he finds waiting for him is enough to have his dick standing at attention instantly. Sydney is resting against the island counter top, a crisp white culinary jacket draped across her frame – unbuttoned and she is completely nude beneath. The most alluring thing about the features before him is the submissive pose Sydney portrays. Her head is angled toward the floor, hair tucked away from her face, and hands placed behind her back, thrusting her chest to the forefront.
Dylan has to work to control the groan that pushes forward for release from deep inside him. Not just a groan of desire, but a groan of complete and utter domination.
He isn’t a typical alpha male, he enjoys receiving a controlled scene as much as he likes directing one, but something about Sydney makes him want to control every aspect of her and her body. Perhaps it is because she holds so much control in everything she does. Or it could be that he has never encountered someone so hell-bent on challenging him. Either way, something about her yielding to him in this moment means so much more than any dominating relationship he had held.
Approaching her slowly, Dylan stands about a foot away from her body and watches as goose bumps appear across her skin in a wave of desire. He knows that she isn’t cold - the ovens in her shop keep the kitchen at a warm seventy-five plus degrees at all times. Her skin’s reaction comes from the recognition of his appearance in the room. She innately senses when he is near, and that alone is the biggest turn on.
“You look sexy as hell like that,” Dylan growls as he reaches out and strokes a hand around the lapel of her coat.
She looks up from her fixed stare on the floor and pins him with her whiskey eyes.
“Thank you. I thought you might enjoy,” she replies saucily.
“I do. Now take it off.”
Sydney cocks her head to the side in confusion and opens her mouth to rebut his command, but before she has the chance, he pounces upon her. His yearning for her has become too much to control as he grabs hold of her back side and lifts her onto the top of the wooden counter. Using his arm to toss a few mixing bowls out of the way and onto the floor, the clanging of the metal against the ceramic floor does little to deter him from his mission.
The second the back of his hands touch the warm wooden counters, he leans forward and takes her mouth in his. Dylan doesn’t care that they barely know each other, or that he never has sex without some sort of relationship in the mix, but something within Sydney calls to him. He is pulled to her as if the gravitational force is simply too much to fight against.
Their lips caress each other as if they had known each other in some previous existence, and their tongues dance the tango of lovers past. Dylan’s hands stroke her soft and supple skin, taking pleasure in the shivers that race through her body after each glide.
A moan escapes from Sydney when his hand brushes against her hardened nipple. Dylan pulls away from her luscious mouth and focuses on the pink peaks before him. She relaxes back with her arms behind her body, thrusting her chest forward, offering him a closer glimpse.
And he is immediately bewitched.
Moving the jacket aside, he bends forward and takes one of the taunting tips into his mouth, twisting his tongue around the peak, sucking hard enough to feel Sydney shudder against him. Dylan is careful to pay equal attention to the other breast, enough that he brings Sydney right to the edge of release before backing off.
He glances up from where he rests against her chest and feels something stronger than desire take over his body as he witnesses Sydney lost in pleasure, her head thrown back and mouth agape.
With the skill of a man in desperate need, he removes his shirt at lightning speed and tugs his pants open. Dylan thrusts his hand into Syd
ney’s hair, jerking her body closer to his, and once again devours her mouth as if it were his last meal. His body twitches when her hands reach forward and slide up his abdomen, against his chest, before finding their way around his neck. Dylan takes a second to comprehend the emotions spiraling their way to the surface as he basks in the feel of Sydney in his arms. Feelings he doesn’t want to consider come to mind. Needing a way to toss those emotions aside, Dylan shifts his free hand to her thigh and inches slowly up her soft skin, towards the awaiting heat at her core.
She bucks against his hand as his fingers come in contact with her slick folds and Dylan smiles against her mouth before whispering, “You’re so wet for me, Angel.”
Sydney mumbles unintelligibly against his mouth, but it does little to hinder his movements against her center. His thumb begins to rub circles around her clit as he inserts one and then two fingers into her tight channel - relishing in the warmth emanating from her core. The snugness surprises him at first because Sydney has an innately sexual sense to her, but he overcomes his disbelief when she begins to utter his name, asking for more before shattering against his hand in a sudden orgasm.
Knowing that she is primed and ready for him, Dylan removes his hand from her body and reaches to yank away his pants and boxers. What shocks him is when he comes in contact with her hands working to do the same task.
“I need you, Dylan.”
Together they tug down his clothing, but not before Dylan reaches into his pocket and grabs the condom he stored there this morning. As he works to slide the material down his hardened shaft, Sydney licks and bites against his neck, making it even more difficult for him to concentrate on the task at hand. He feels his muscles turn to jelly every time her tongue peeks out to touch his skin. His concentration is shattering and all he feels is pent up desire… two months of desire. Their first meeting lead to this moment.
Coming Consumed: Welcome to Carson, Book Three Page 3
