Dylan’s silver eyes brighten falsely as he smiles and then he declares, “Everything is fine.”
Sydney narrows her eyes at him slightly before he untangles his fingers from her hair and moves them to rest on her hand, which is gliding across his chest.
“First, should I be worried about those hickies on your neck? They seem relatively new,” he asks in a surprisingly calm manner.
Sydney reaches up with her free hand and covers the red and purple bruises.
“No, I swear. I went dancing and my partner got a little overzealous.”
Dylan narrows his eyes at her weighing his options and Sydney bites her lip nervously. In the past had Caleb seen the markings on her neck he would have stormed off in a fiery rage, Dylan’s contemplation is a bit bewildering to her.
He nods his head and then presses a soft kiss on her nose.
“Angel, I want to take you out to dinner tonight.”
“Ok, that sounds fun.”
“Like a date,” he adds, trying not to laugh as the shock and horror register on her face.
“A date? After a full day of work?”
“Yes, a date, after a full day of work. Wherever you’d like to go.”
Sydney smiles saucily before telling him that she wants to go to Angie’s for dinner, and she’ll be ready by six.
“Now, we have to head to the bakery by five, so grab a banana and a shower while I make some pancakes.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dylan salutes before turning and retreating back to the bedroom, Sydney’s gaze burning into his backside the entire time.
YLAN STANDS OUTSIDE SYDNEY’S door, the knuckles of one hand gently tapping on the wood while holding a bouquet of daisies and wild flowers in the other.
After helping Sydney at the bakery this morning and completing a walk-through of The Grill with her brother, Dylan had asked Austin if he had a place in town where he could shower and change clothes. Austin had eyed him skeptically, but offered use of his apartment in town. Dylan was glad he had kept his duffle bag in his car since he hadn’t made it back to Asheville the previous night.
Standing at the door waiting for Sydney to answer, Dylan is fraught with something that has never happened in all the years he has been dating…nerves. He is actually nervous to take Sydney out on a date. Sure, they seemed to get along fine when they were working together, and of course the attraction between them sizzled in epic proportions, but Dylan had a hard time reconciling between the playful Sydney and the scared Sydney. The scared Sydney always fought against what they could have and that made him nervous.
She is something special, someone who deserves to be cherished and he knows that if she gives him the chance, he can prove it to her.
A creak sounds from the door hinges and Dylan looks up from the flowers to find a beautiful creature standing before him. Sydney may have been going for something quick and casual, but Dylan’s tongue practically drops from his mouth as he gazes at her. He takes note of her appearance, beginning with her long blonde hair that is tied up in a ponytail high on her head, the soft waves curling on the end and brushing past her shoulders. A red and black flannel shirt hangs loosely around her, but does little to conceal the womanly shape of her body. The pièce de résistance is the skin-tight black leggings covering her legs. Dylan is almost happy at the fact that the flannel shirt hangs past her ass, because he isn’t sure he would be able to control himself if he saw that perfectly toned portion of her body in the pants.
“I’m sorry, I’m almost ready. I just need to find my shoes. I was sucked into this antique picking show and I couldn’t pull myself away. You can come in,” she gestures as she rushes through the living room and down the hallway.
Instead of standing idly, Dylan moves towards her kitchen and looks in the cabinet above the fridge for a vase. Bingo. He chuckles to himself, thinking that it seems to be the universal spot to hold that item.
Just as he is stepping back from admiring his work on the arrangement that he placed on her coffee table, Sydney joins him in the living room. Dylan hadn’t noticed before, but she has swiped a few coats of mascara on her lashes and added a deep shade of red lipstick on mouth.
“I’m ready,” she announces, grabbing her jacket from where it hangs on a hook by the door. “The flowers look beautiful, by the way.”
She takes a hold of the doorknob, ready to exit, then glances back at Dylan as he says, “Sydney. You look beautiful.” He makes sure to emphasize the fact that he thinks she is the most beautiful thing in the room. Country. World. In such a short period of time, he has become so wickedly entranced by her that Dylan would rather spend a life in solitude and have the chance to spend one day with her, than have anything else his heart desires. That thought alone would have scared Dylan a few months back, but now? Now Dylan embraces the feelings bubbling up inside of him. This high he feels whenever he is around her is more powerful than any drug he has ever encountered while on the force. She is powerful, captivating, spellbinding.
And he wanted her all for himself, if she would only let him.
“Thank you,” she whispers softly as she watches him take the door out of her grasp and hold it open for her.
He guides her out of the house and to his car, where he made sure to hide any remnants of his work before he came to pick her up. The drive takes only a few minutes, but due to the chilly temperature, Dylan is happy to keep Sydney out of the cold.
“Stay there,” he commands, then steps out of the vehicle and moves to her side, holding the door open for her to exit.
Smiling up at him, she jokes, “And here I thought chivalry was a drying art. I had no idea.”
Dylan joins in her laughter as they make their way through the entrance of Angie’s Diner. Immediately upon their arrival, the typically boisterous restaurant grows eerily quiet. Dylan wraps an arm around Sydney’s shoulders protectively as she smiles up at him.
“I didn’t think we would cause that much of a stir.”
“Well, Angel, it doesn’t bother me, they’re all just curious,” he murmurs in her ear. “Now, you go pick a booth somewhere and I’ll follow your lead.”
As she begins her trek to the table, she asks curiously, “Why a booth?”
He grins wickedly at her as she slides into the vinyl covered bench and he follows, sidling in beside her.
“Because I want some privacy.”
Dylan watches as her mouth forms a perfect “O” at his declaration and he can’t help but toss his head back in laughter.
“It’s not that funny,” she murmurs as she picks up her menu.
Sitting back in the booth, Dylan admires Sydney’s features as she reads over the menu that he’s sure she must have memorized after years of eating here and he notices that her tongue darts out every time she reads something that she must enjoy eating.
Deciding at last, she takes her menu and places it in the holder at the end of the table before turning to face him.
“Do you know what you’re having?” she questions innocently.
“You,” he responds, reaching across and twirling a piece of her ponytail around his finger.
“Dylan!” she whispers in mock outrage.
“What?” he laughs. “I’m sure everything is good here, so I’m going to let you chose for me. I’m not a picky eater.”
Ten minutes into their meal, brought to them by Angie herself, Sydney pushes back her plate of meatloaf as she finishes the last bite of mashed potatoes.
“Whew, I’m stuffed. Do you like the pot roast?”
After the first bite of the Monday special, Dylan had been laser focused on his dinner. It is single-handedly the best pot roast he has ever tasted, and he’d even be willing to tell his mother that.
He and Sydney hadn’t spoken a word while they ate, both enjoying the flavors of their meals, but neither of them seemed to notice.
“This is the best meal I’ve had in a very long time.”
“Isn’t it? I don’t know how Angie does it, but it
gets better every time I come here.”
“Well, we’ll have to come again sometime and try something new.”
“Oh, that would be fun, and I’ve had practically everything on the menu, you can’t choose wrong.”
“Good to know,” Dylan adds with a smirk as he takes a sip from his water and turns to Sydney.
“So…”
“So…,” she repeats; nervousness suddenly evident in her eyes.
“Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”
Her eyes become slightly vacant, and Dylan can tell she is mentally glossing over things she doesn’t want to share yet.
“Oh, let’s see… I won the state Spelling Bee three years in a row. Every year I was in middle school I competed and won. I think my mom still has the trophies and medals.”
“Wow. So, you can spell almost anything?”
An unruly laugh bursts out of Sydney, taking him and the rest of the restaurant by surprise.
“No, I am a horrible speller now. Ironic, right?” She laughs, then continues, “Hm, my turn, right? Let’s see,” she says, tapping her chin with her forefinger in an animated gesture. “What is a must-have while you’re cooking? For me, when I’m baking or creating something new, I need to have music playing. It relaxes my brain so that I can focus.”
“You’re going to laugh at me, but I’m the same way, except that I’m very specific about the kind of music.”
Sydney’s demure smile grows in length as she scoots closer to Dylan, egging him on to disclose the kind of music.
“Fine, I usually have to listen to late nineties alternative rock. It’s what I grew up with. But I am very specific when I’m creating a menu and there is only one song I can have on when I’m doing that.”
“What is it? What is it? I want to know!”
Chuckling, Dylan says, “I doubt you even know the song.”
“Come on!”
“Geez, ok. It’s the song Tubthumping by Chumbawamba.”
Dylan watches as Sydney’s eyes look at him questioningly and with a hint of blankness. Just as he’s about to speak up, Angie sidles next to their table and asks if they would like a refill on their water or any dessert.
“I think we’re fine, Angie. Thank you,” Dylan says.
“Actually, Angie, can I get a whiskey drink?”
Angie stares at Sydney as if she’s grown two heads, but Dylan’s lips pull back into an overzealous grin when he realizes what Sydney has said.
“I don’t know, Syd, how about a Vodka drink?”
Working to maintain a straight face, Sydney adds, “A Lager drink?”
“What about a Cider drink?”
“Something that reminds you of the good times?”
“Let’s sing a song that reminds us of the best times.”
Reaching her hand out to touch the side of Dylan’s face, Sydney taps his cheek with her palm, saying with a hint of sadness, “Oh, Danny Boy.”
“Y’all are being really weird. Do you really want those drinks, Ms. Sydney?”
“Oh, Angie, don’t get knocked down.”
Angie looks at the couple strangely, leaves their check on the table, and then turns around and leaves, muttering to herself about weird kids these days.
When she leaves, Dylan and Sydney erupt in raucous laughter, both sets of their eyes watering as they continue to look at each other.
“That was fun,” Sydney says between breaths as she tries to calm herself.
“You really had me fooled, you know that? And how do you know that song anyway?”
“I’m sorry, but your face when you thought I didn’t know the song was hilarious. And I have a very eclectic taste in music. I listen to everything.”
Dylan nods his head as he places some cash on the table to cover the check. He stands from the booth and extends his hand to assist Sydney. She grins up at him at his gesture.
They travel back to her house in silence, the mood changing rapidly since leaving the diner. Dylan cuts off the ignition to the car, but neither he nor Sydney make any move to exit the vehicle.
“I had a really nice time tonight, Dylan. Thank you,” she utters softly.
He turns to gaze at her while she continues to face forward. The outside porch lights of her house shining into the car highlight her features in a delicate glow. His chest aches at the thought of returning to his apartment, of sleeping without Sydney’s petite body pressed up against him.
Before he can think better of it, Dylan says, “Let me stay.”
She turns her head in question, their gazes meeting and holding strong.
“We don’t have to do anything. I just want to sleep with you in my arms. Please.”
Sydney searches his eyes for a moment before replying, “Ok.”
WITH A START, DYLAN jerks awake before remembering he had fallen asleep in Sydney’s bed. Dylan shakes his head, remembering how it felt having her soft body pressed up tightly against his.
“Damn,” he utters into the empty room before sliding out of the bed, grabbing his discarded pants off the floor and tugging them up his legs.
Opening the door to the hallway, he is assaulted by the smell of coffee and cinnamon rolls. He finds himself groaning in pleasure as he follows the scent that leads him towards the kitchen at the back of the house.
Dylan can’t help but smirk at the look of Sydney reaching towards an upper shelf in her farmhouse style kitchen, complete with white cabinets, dark countertops, and a well-worn butcher block island. Sydney had changed from her nighttime attire into a tiny pair of shorts and a sports bra, covered by a loose tank top. The slickness of her skin indicates to him that she had either just finished working out or baking; he believes the latter is the culprit. As she reaches higher and her top exposes the lower portion of her stomach, Dylan can’t control the groan that escapes his mouth.
Sydney startles at the noise and drops the traveling coffee mug from her hands as she whips around in flight mode. Unfortunately for her, Dylan is there in front of her before she has a chance to escape.
“Dylan,” she whispers. “I didn’t know you were awake.”
“Fuck, Syd,” he adds before his mouth swoops down to capture hers.
The sweet taste of icing and cinnamon assaults Dylan’s taste buds and he moans into her mouth as his tongue strokes against hers. One of her legs hitches upward along his hip, and he uses a free hand to glide along the smooth skin until he reaches the edge of her shorts. As if they have a mind of their own, his fingers caress the hem of the garment, moving hurriedly until they reach the center where her heat emanates beneath the fabric.
Dylan guides his fingers beneath the stretchy material until he reaches her center, which is hot and dripping with desire. She gasps as his fingers glide across her slick skin while he searches for her pleasure point.
Wrapping his other arm around her waist, Dylan lifts her up slightly, allowing his determined hand to guide a finger into her pussy while his thumb rubs tight circles around her clit.
Sydney’s arms tighten around his shoulders and her nails dig into the exposed skin of his back. Her body quivers beneath his hand and Dylan can’t help but feel triumph as she comes apart in his arms.
With a lustful daze in her beautiful brown eyes, Dylan watches as Sydney removes herself from her perch on Dylan’s body and slides her hands around his waist before settling on the undone buttons of his pants. She gazes at him from beneath her lashes, silently asking permission, and as he nods his head once, she tugs down the zipper and makes to drag his pants down.
A ringing in his back pocket seems to knock Sydney out of her haze and she bites down on her luscious bottom lip as he reaches into his pocket for his phone. He helps her stand before pressing the “Answer” button.
As he listens to his boss drone on and on, he uses his free hand to caress the side of Sydney’s face, then places it on the back of her neck and tugs her forward to taste her lips once again. Dylan loses himself in the softness of her lips and the se
nsual caress of her tongue as it explores his mouth, barely paying attention to the conversation taking place on the other side of the phone line. That is until his boss says the few words to jolt him back into reality.
“You’re being sent out on an extended assignment. A few weeks undercover.”
“But…”
“This is above me, Bennett. We don’t have a choice. The Director chose you specifically. I’ll make sure to have someone constantly patrol the current case. It’s been quiet. Now, you move out in twenty-four hours. Good luck.”
Dylan groans when the cell phone clicks off on the other end and he steps back from Sydney.
“I have to go. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”
“Who was that?”
“Um…my brother. Apparently, my old boss needs me to help train my replacement. Go figure,” he lies.
“Oh.”
Sydney looks at him warily, then schools her emotions like a professional.
“Sydney,” Dylan says as he reaches out for her, but she quickly moves aside.
“I’m going to go take a shower. Please feel free to take the mug and a cinnamon roll for the road.” Turning her hardened face towards him as she exits the kitchen, she adds, “Thanks for coming last night, Dylan.”
As she turns to walk away, Dylan chimes in, “Sydney, I want to come back to you when I’m done.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” he questions, but she ignores him and steps into her bedroom and then the bathroom, the lock clicking into place and echoing throughout the silence of the house.
“Oh, Angel,” Dylan sighs. “You have no idea that you just threw down the gauntlet.”
Stalking back to her bedroom, Dylan quickly grabs the remainder of his clothes and leaves the house, but only after he double checks all of her locks and does a walk-around of the property.
Once he begins his trek back to Asheville, Dylan calls up his boss once more.
“Alright, where am I headed?”
Four months later
HEN SYDNEY OPENS UP her bakery on Saturday morning, bright and early as usual, she can’t help but draw her gaze to the wooden island where she and Dylan had pushed their professional limits, then her eyes travel to the drywall-covered, glass-door partitioned expansion next door.
Coming Consumed: Welcome to Carson, Book Three Page 6
