by Jo Raven
Then again, if I’m on my way to recovery and the incessant fatigue of the previous weeks and months goes away… If Tessa forgives me and wants to be my girl… If the boys are okay… I’ll finally fight for all I want and care for.
“Man, we met your chick. She’s hot!” This is Tyson, one of the linebackers.
My eyes narrow. “Hands off. If you so much as think of touching her…”
He lifts his hands, chuckling. Tyson’s not the brightest bulb in the box, and if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay the fuck away from Tessa.
Jeff grabs Tyson in a chokehold and bares his teeth. “Shut your fucking mouth, Tyson. I was hoping Dylan might forget you’re on the team, too.”
“Fuck you,” Tyson mutters, but doesn’t look particularly ruffled.
“We really hope you’ll come back,” Cory says, a quiet guy, linebacker, too. “We’re still Team Dylan, you know.”
Dammit. These guys want to make me tear up just, so they can rib me about it for the rest of my fucking life.
“We brought you chocolates,” Martin says, his face a picture of innocence.
“Oh yeah? You forgot the flowers?” I snap my teeth at him, happy to be distracted.
“Roses. Oh yeah, baby.” Tyson bats his lashes and pouts, and we all dissolve into hysterical laughter. The others attack him and tackle him to the floor, and they roll around cackling.
Nothing like a six-foot-five gorilla with a shaved head making kissy lips to put the universe to rights.
Ash appears at the door, a dark brow lifted at the tangle of bodies on the floor. “Need any help?” he drawls. “Looks like fun.”
“Nah, we’re good,” Jeff says, still holding Tyson by the scruff of the neck. “Find your own toys.”
“I got my own toys,” Ash says, and Audrey appears next to him. He draws her close. “Much better than yours.”
“Yeah…” Jeff gapes at Audrey. She’s a hot redhead, and although she’s not my type, not the one I want, she’s damn pretty.
“Close your mouth.” Tyson pushes Jeff off him. “And stop drooling on me.”
“I want,” Jeff mutters.
“Get your own toys,” Ash replies, giving my team a dangerous grin, and departs with Audrey.
I stare at the door, a strange yearning inside me. It’s bittersweet and oddly familiar. Tessa. I want her to show up at the door, give me her sweet smile and come to me, lie in my arms and let me hold her.
I need to talk to her. Tell her how much she means to me. Zane’s right. It’s about time I made it clear to her I’m not changing my mind again. That I’m here for her, if she wants me.
“Thanks for stopping by, guys.” I lie back on my pillows with a sigh. I don’t have to pretend I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. “I think I’ll catch some shuteye now, if you all don’t mind.”
“Sure, man.” They get up from the floor, looking a little sheepish. “You need to rest. Give us a call when you feel better, and we can all have a party.”
I feel a little guilty for making them leave, but I need to do this, and if I wait any longer, I will fall asleep and have to wait even longer.
What if Tessa is fed up with waiting for me to tell her how I feel? I told her I think about her a lot, sure, and that I think she’s beautiful, but that’s not enough. Not after I treated her like a stranger for years.
She deserves more. She deserves complete honesty. She makes me want to be a better man, and I should start right now.
“Need anything?” Ash asks, looking inside, Audrey wrapped around him like a starfish. It’s nice to see them together, to see how much they need and enjoy each other.
That’s what I want with Tessa.
“Hey, Ash.” I clench my hands by my sides. “I wanted to say… I’m sorry. I was wrong.” About who Ash is, what Audrey needed. What I needed, and Tessa… God. “Sorry I doubted you when Audrey came back to town. That I didn’t help you. Didn’t support you.”
Silence spreads in the room. I don’t know what I expect from Ash at this point—to call me names? To get up and go? To say my apology is not accepted—not adequate?
What I don’t expect him to do is grin. It’s a bit crooked, and self-depreciative, and rueful.
“You were trying to protect Audrey,” he says. “Can’t be angry about that, even if it was to protect her from me. Her safety is my first priority, too, and I was a hot mess back then.”
Audrey squeezes his arm, and some of the weight that has been dragging me down all this time lifts a fraction.
“Is Tessa here?” I ask. “Can I talk to her?”
“I heard the door a minute ago. She just arrived.” Asher gives me a measured look. “I’ll let her know.”
***
Keeping awake is a struggle. It’s quiet, with the guys gone from the room, and my lids are growing heavy. I fight it, clenching my hands and digging my blunt nails into my palms. The slight pain rouses me for a moment, but then the heaviness in my body grows, and every blink lasts longer than the one before.
Images flash before me, trees and lakes, houses and tall buildings. I’m walking down an empty avenue, the cars abandoned and rusty, vultures perched on their tops. They’re staring at me as I pass, my boots thumping in the quiet. This is my doing. This destruction. This devastation.
I am the city. I am the emptiness. The loneliness is what I brought on myself. I know this, and I accept it. I suffer from it, and I regret it. Awareness is my punishment.
What will you do now?
I find myself in a conference room talking with my mom. We sit on either end of the long table, and I’m trying to convince her not to go, offering arguments and presenting as evidence the skeleton of my father, arranged on the table between us. She doesn’t say anything to me. She reaches out, touches my father’s bones. They’re black, as if charred, and smooth like polished onyx.
“It wasn’t me who killed him,” she finally says, her voice low and sad. “It’s himself. It’s not love that killed him. It’s his own fear.”
She stands up and leaves the room. No sooner is she out, all the windows implode, and I’m tipping backward, my arms spreading wide. Dropping. Falling. Plunging into the void.
“Dylan,” a soft voice says, close to my ear. “Dylan, wake up.”
I jerk awake, my breath coming in gasps, my heart booming. Stinging sweat drips into my eyes. My muscles are locked so tight my neck is stiff.
A hand is nestled inside mine, small like a songbird. She’s sitting next to me, her blue eyes concerned. “Dylan,” she says. “It was just a dream.”
No, not just a dream. The truth. Dad may not be dead, thank God, but I can see it now. It’s not love that broke him and then drove him away. It’s sorrow and fear. Fear of having failed my mom. Fear of losing everyone in his life.
The same fear I’ve suffered from, the one that made me push Tessa away, ignore what I felt for her for years.
She leans forward. “Are you okay? Shall I bring you some water?”
“I’m fine.” Better than I’ve ever been. “Thanks for being here. Taking care of me. Of my brothers.”
She shakes her head, gives a faint smile. “Of course I’m here.”
“I’m not…” I draw a deep breath as my frantic heartbeat begins to slow. “Not doubting you would be. I just want to thank you.”
Her smile widens for a breathtaking second, making her eyes brighter. “You’re welcome.”
Silence stretches. She’s dressed in a white blouse with a slogan that reads ‘Damage Control’ over her breasts.
“Thinking of getting a tattoo?” I nod at her blouse and try desperately not to stare at her pretty tits while doing so. We need to talk, and I’m easily distracted when she’s near. “Or is Zane paying you to promote the shop? Not that that’s bad,” I rush to add, nervousness tripping my tongue. “I mean, everyone would line up outside the shop if you advertised it.”
Damn. I bite my tongue.
“This blouse?” She looks down h
er herself. “It’s Dakota’s. She loaned it to me. Still haven’t worked up the nerve to go back to my apartment.”
“I’ll go with you,” I say. “As soon as I can.”
She squeezes my hand, a light pressure of her fingers. “I know. You’ll be well enough soon.”
Shit, I hope so. I hate lying around, letting others take care of me, of my brothers. It makes me feel useless.
And goddamn grateful. I have the best friends in the world. Don’t know what I’d have done without them. It’s slowly dawning on me they’ve been around the house for days, taking care of me and my bros.
“I should let you rest,” she says and starts to pull her hand away.
I grab it hard. “No, wait.” I stare into her wide eyes and swallow hard. “Could you close the door? Turn the key. There’s something I need to tell you, and there are too many people going in and out.”
The light in her eyes fades, and fear flashes through the blue. Before I have a chance to ask what the matter is, she gets up quietly and locks the door. She doesn’t come back to sit with me, though. She stands at the foot of the bed, her hands wringing together.
“What’s wrong?” I struggle to sit up, see her better. Dizziness hits me, and I breathe in, waiting for it to pass.
Immediately she comes to help me, fluffing up the pillows and stacking them behind my back.
Then she starts to move away again, and I reach for her. “Tess. Wait.” I manage to grip her wrist, and she winces.
I let go right away. “Dammit, Tess. What did I do? Did I hurt you?”
She shakes her head but won’t meet my eyes. “What you said …” She draws a shaky breath. “About caring for me… I believe you. I know sleeping with me doesn’t have to mean anything, that it doesn’t necessarily translate into love and happily ever after, you know? I…” Her eyes look wet, and my chest is so tight I can barely breathe. “But I love you, Dylan. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t just be friends with you. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll leave you in peace.”
I open my mouth, but no sound emerges. My jaw is slack. My mouth won’t function. I try to form words, but my brain is just as stunned.
That’s what she thinks I’m about to tell her?
Of course it is. What else would she expect from you, asshole?
“Tess.” My pulse is pounding in my temples. “Come here. Please.”
She’s already at the door, her hand on the key. Her mouth quivers. She doesn’t move.
Fuck this. This is all my fault.
“Tess.” Throwing the covers off, I swing my legs off the bed and push myself upright. “Please,” I whisper.
Sweat breaks on my forehead, and black spots swim in my eyes. My knees start buckling, and darkness rushes in with a roar. I think I hear my name being called as everything fades.
***
I blink, wincing as light stabs my eyes, and stare up at a jagged crack on the ceiling. I’m lying on my back on the bed, staring up, and someone is holding my face in both hands. A scent of vanilla and cinnamon teases my senses.
Smells like Christmas.
“Jesus, Dylan, what were you thinking?” Tessa is frowning down at me. “You’ve been on your back for days now, and you’re still feverish.”
“I was thinking,” I say slowly, gathering my thoughts, “that I’m not letting you go again. Not if I can convince you to stay.”
Her eyes go round.
“I’m so sorry I hurt you before.” I love you. Why is it so hard to speak the words? She is everything to me. “My fear of losing you… it’s nothing compared to the fear of never being with you again.”
Color rises to her cheeks, making the blue in her eyes glow. “What are you saying, Dylan?” I can see it all flicker through her gaze—fear, uncertainty, hope.
Just say it.
“I…” My mouth is dry like a desert. Desperately I lick my lips. “I don’t… just love you.”
“You don’t love me?” She bites her lower lip, and it’s driving me crazy. And damn, I’m scaring her again.
“Dammit, Tess, I’m gonna spell it out for you.” I draw a deep breath. “I don’t think I can live without you. And that’s scary as fuck, but I don’t care. When I thought I lost you forever, I realized what was important. You are important, the most important thing in the world for me, and I… I want to ask you…” I close my eyes briefly, then open them again to look into her face. “Is it too late?
“For what?”
“For a second chance. I’m asking you to stay with me, move in with me. Be my girl.” I glance around the dim room. “I know it’s not much. But all I have is yours.”
The pain her eyes eases, but tears slip down her cheeks, and I frown as I reach up to gather them, wipe them away. She’s smiling, though. What does it mean?
“I do love you, Tess,” I say, cupping her wet cheeks, relieved I can finally speak the words. “More than I can ever tell you.”
When she kisses me, it’s salty and bitter and so sweet I don’t think I can ever stop. I kiss her back, pulling her to me, needing to feel her. Feel her skin on skin, nothing between us. We’ve said it all. No more words are needed.
Her hands slide down my chest, grab the hem of my T-shirt, and tug. I let go of her face to lift my arms and help her undress me. I let the T-shirt drop off the bed to the floor. Her warm hands are on my pecs, moving down, sliding over the growing bulge in my pajama pants, and I hiss, my hips lifting.
Fuck. I need her naked skin on mine right now.
Frantically, I pull on her blouse and lift it, uncovering her white bra. She pulls her blouse off all the way and leans over me again, our mouths coming together, the kiss growing deep and demanding. Our tongues clash and twine, and I cup her breasts and knead them, feeling her nipples harden under the thin fabric.
Her hair is loose, falling in waves around us, tickling my shoulders, my jaw. It smells of flowers and spring meadows. She smells like summer. Feels like summer. I smile against her lips and slide my hands around her back to unhook her bra.
She makes a sound in the back of her throat as I let it fall and replace it with my hands. I tease her nipples until she moans breathlessly. She breaks the kiss to gasp my name, and I take advantage to lick and suck on her breasts. She rocks on top of my cloth-clad erection, and my eyes all but roll back in my head with the pleasure of it.
“Shit.” I reach for her pants, try to pull them down. “Take these off.”
She sits up, rises on her knees, and pushes her pants and panties down her legs and off. I stare at her, unable to look away. So beautiful.
“Come here,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with need. My cock throbs in time to my heart, and my balls feel like rocks. “So fucking pretty. My girl.”
“Yours,” she whispers and reaches down to free my hard-on.
My hand closes over hers. Together we push down my pants and let my cock spring out, hard, heavy and so damn ready. She grips me tightly, and I groan as she guides me between her legs. The sight of her, her scent, her hold on me will never get old, I know that.
I let go of her hand as she sinks on me, slowly, enveloping me inch by inch in her heat. I fall back on the pillows, and I bite down on a cry when she takes me in all the way, my back arching off the mattress. She pulses around my cock, muscles rippling, massaging me. Holding me inside her.
Hot. Tight. Fucking incredible.
I grip her hips, thumbs smoothing over her warm, silky skin, and she begins to move. I need to move, too, thrust into her, but I’m holding back, forcing myself still so she can take her pleasure.
She rocks on me, her breath catching every time she comes down, letting my hands help her rise every time. She’s all curves and shadows, and she whispers my name as she starts clenching around me.
“Oh, fuck.” That feels fucking crazy, the way she starts coming, tightening her grip on my dick. I can’t hold back any longer. I lose control. I lift her so I can thrust into her, again and again, faster, harder.
She cries out, convulsing around my cock as my orgasm slams into me, an avalanche of sensation, a torrent of pleasure rushing from the top of my head to the tip of my dick. I let out a breathless yell, my hips rolling, drawing out the pleasure.
Sensory overload. Holy shit. The world dims.
She bends over me, panting, and I draw her down, to lie on my chest. I bury my nose in her sweet-smelling hair, put my arms around her and promise I won’t ever let her go.
Chapter Sixteen
Tessa
Sunlight pours through the window, cutting a bright square on the floor. I sit at Dylan’s beside and hold his larger hand between mine. I like watching him sleep.
The disease hit him hard. Turns out he’s had it way longer than his brother. He’s really lucky it was caught before any serious long-time effects set in.
For a while the guys and I seriously thought about taking him to the ER, as his fever wouldn’t drop. But even half-delirious, he refused to leave his brothers, and eventually the drugs worked, and the fever went away.
He looks much better now, his color high, and his skin cool to the touch. He’s recovering, and he looks more peaceful than I’ve ever seen him. Calmer. Happier.
It was yesterday he said he loves me and wants me to be his girl, to move in and be with him. The memory makes me smile, and I lift his hand, kiss his knuckles.
He makes a sleepy sound like sounds vaguely like a protest and quiets again. Still smiling, I place his hand back on the covers and get up to go. I’m ready for work, dressed in clothes borrowed from Erin this time.
The thought makes me frown.
I send Dylan one last look over my shoulder, wishing I could sit here with him until he’s fine. As I gather my purse, keys and jacket from the living room, I wish for my own underwear, my books, my tablet, my favorite earrings. My notebook, my photo albums, my favorite shoes, all left in my apartment. Like a war refugee, that’s how I’ve been living for weeks now, because I’m afraid to go back.
Enough. I’ve had enough of my fear. I think of how Dylan fought his own doubts and fear to have me back in his life, and I almost turn back to his room, to kiss him again.