“Because I was fucking afraid to. Afraid you wouldn’t believe me. Afraid to upset you. I fucked up, but she meant nothing to me, and it went no further. All night, I was talking nonstop about you. She knew I had a girlfriend. I think she was just trashed and horny, and I was conveniently there.”
I give him a “do ya think I’m stupid” look. “Don’t insult my fucking intelligence, Dylan. I’ve seen what these girls try to do. As soon as they find out who you are, they see you as a meal ticket. They all want a ride on your cock, and, you know, I’ve never really given it much thought because I trust you and I have faith in what we have but this …”
I shake my head, trailing off because I’m afraid of saying something I can’t take back. Memories of the conversation I overheard at the party, unhelpfully, surge to the forefront of my mind, confusing matters further. “Did you tell some girl you wanted to suck her tits and take her number last Friday?”
“What?” His brows climb to his hairline. “No! Of course not! Where the fuck did that come from?”
“I … never mind. Forget it.” I’m letting my imagination run wild. I grip his face, staring directly into his eyes. “I want you to promise me that you’ve told me the truth and that nothing happened.”
He looks me dead on. “I love you, Gabby. Only ever you. I swear it’s the truth. Nothing happened with that girl or any girl. You’re the only one I want.”
That was the first of many lies.
Chapter Seven
When I return after using the restroom, Dylan is hunched over the side of the truck, vomiting. A pile of puke rests at his feet. “Crap, Dylan. Are you okay?”
“Water,” he croaks, holding up a hand to keep me back.
“Okay. I’ll get some stuff, but let’s move you to the restroom first.” I help him to the men’s room, depositing him there while I go into the store. When I reemerge, he’s back behind the wheel, cradling his head in his hands.
I haul myself up into the passenger seat and close the door. “Here.” I hand him a bottle of water. When he lifts his head, his pallor is ashen, and little beads of sweat dot his brow. I place my palm over his forehead. “Shit, you’re hot.”
“Straight fire,” he teases, and I can’t help grinning.
“You can’t drive in this condition. Let’s swap seats.”
We switch around, and I force him to drink a full bottle of water before we leave. He dabs at his mouth and his brow with the tissues I bought, his complexion getting paler and paler as we eat up the miles.
Wincing, he cradles his head in his hands, rocking back and forth in the seat.
“Do you need me to pull over?” I ask.
“Keep driving,” he murmurs. “Need bed.”
It’s a wonder I don’t pick up a ticket for speeding with the way I drive us home. I get Dylan out of the car, into the elevator, and into our apartment. He’s leaning on me the whole time, and I’m struggling to hold him up, but we somehow manage. I strip him down to his boxers and help him into bed. “Need my medication,” he whispers, clutching his head.
“Shit. You have another migraine?” Dylan suffered terrible migraines when he was a teenager, but he was symptom free for a few years until he started suffering again a couple months ago.
“Feels like my head’s exploding.”
“I’ll be right back.” I run to the bathroom and grab his pills, fetching a fresh glass of water from the kitchen and helping him to take the medication. I place a cold cloth over his hot forehead and pull the covers up over him. “Try and sleep, baby.” I press a kiss to his cheek and switch off the bedside lamp and the overhead lights, plunging the room into darkness.
“Gabby,” he calls out as I tiptoe out of the room.
“Yes?”
“I love you to death. You know that, right?”
“I do, and I love you too.” I might be pissed at him for getting trashed and leaving himself vulnerable to that gold digger, but I know he loves me, and I’m not going to deny that I love him too. That slut is not going to come between us, but God help her if I ever get my hands on her.
He sits up, but I can’t make out his features in the dark. “Don’t ever leave me, babe. I would die without you.”
“Forever, Freckles.”
“Forever, Dimples.”
I only manage to grab Myndi for a private chat on Monday after classes end. Forcing her to come for coffee with me, before her shift in the diner starts, I demand answers. She sits at a table, scrolling on her phone, while I place our orders. Handing her a paper cup, I slide into the seat across from her. “Okay, hit me. What’s the dealio with you and Ryan?”
“What’s he said?”
“Pretty much nothing, but he was grinning like the cat that got the canary, so I know something happened.”
She beams at me, drifting off into her own little bubble. Rolling my eyes, I click my fingers in her face. “Jesus, you’ve gone all moon face on me too. Just spit it out before I start drawing my own conclusions.”
“I called you yesterday to tell you, but you never picked up.”
“Sorry. We were out with the folks. It was an anniversary dinner for Slate’s mom. I was going to call you back, but then we had some drama, and then Dylan was sick on the way home, so I never got a chance to return your call.”
“Is Dylan okay?”
I nod. “It’s his migraines again. He was feeling better this morning, but he still skipped classes to stay home.”
“Ugh, migraines are the worst.” Myndi removes the lid and blows on her latte.
“I can’t believe they’ve come back. They plagued him for years when we were growing up.”
“It could be all the looking at screens. Has he had his eyes tested?”
“That was my first thought when they reappeared, and, yes, he’s been tested, and his eyesight is perfect. The doctor has said a lot of people who experience migraines end up with a recurring condition. There’s not a hell of a lot he can do really, but I’m sure the stress of his robotics project isn’t helping either.” I take a sip of my black coffee, inhaling the bitter aroma as I drink. “Anyway, enough deflecting. What happened with my brother?”
“He came into the diner Saturday night as my shift was ending and asked me to go to a party with him. I declined, because I was exhausted and pretty much dead on my feet, so he suggested we go back to his place with some takeout and a movie.” She blushes, and I arch a brow.
“And?” I prompt.
“And we made out for a bit, but it was all quite innocent. At some point, I fell asleep. Woke up on the couch with your brother draped around me. Panicked like fuck and hightailed it out of there. Spent the morning pacing my dorm, trying to remember if anything else happened.”
“You fucked him?”
“No!” Her eyes widen. “I didn’t, but I was freaking out because I couldn’t remember if I did or not. Anyway, I was debating calling you, and then Ryan showed up, freaking out because I left without waking him. He reassured me we didn’t have sex and asked me out again.” She scrunches up her nose. “I said yes, and we’re going out to dinner Wednesday night. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Are you sure you want to go there?”
She bites her lower lip. “I know what I’m getting into, Gabby. I’m under no illusion, but I like him. He makes me laugh. And no one has ever kissed me like he did. Oh my God, he—”
“Ugh.” I put my palm right up in her face. “Nuh-uh. Sharing is not caring in this instance. There are certain things I do not want to know about any of my brothers. Like how they kiss or what they’re like in bed, so you’ll have to censure your comments while you’re dating him.”
She giggles. “Sure. I think I can manage that.” The wide smile on her face concerns me, but Myndi’s a big girl, and it’s not my place to interfere. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” she asks, deep worry lines creasing h
er brow.
“I love you, and I love my brother, and if anything serious was to develop between you, I would be ecstatic. Genuinely. But you know what he’s like, so please just guard your heart.”
When I return to the condo later that night, Dylan rushes to greet me, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tight. I hug him back, and a deep sense of contentment courses through me. “How are you feeling?” I ask after a bit, easing back to examine his face. Color has returned to his cheeks, and he’s smiling.
“All good. Migraine’s gone.”
I press my lips to his. “Thank God. I hate seeing you in so much pain.”
Delicious aromas tickle my nostrils, and I pick my head up. “What am I smelling?”
He kisses me softly. “I made dinner. Hope you’re hungry.”
“Is the Pope Catholic?” I joke.
He steers me to the dining table. The lights are dimmed, and two candles flicker softly atop the table. A bottle of wine is chilling in a bucket, and he pours me a glass. “Dinner will be about twenty minutes, so I thought you might like to have a bath first?”
“That sounds perfect,” I murmur, savoring the delicious, crisp, cold white wine as it glides down my throat.
Taking my hand, he leads me to the bathroom. Steam, and the scent of jasmine, rises from the already full tub. Rose petals float across the surface of the water, and romantic music plays in the background. Dylan places my glass of wine down on the edge of the tub and starts removing my cardigan. “You’re spoiling me,” I murmur as he trails a fine line of kisses over my exposed shoulder.
“You deserve it, and I like spoiling you.” He pops the buttons on the back of my dress, and it slinks to the floor. I kick it aside, standing in front of the tub, with my back to my boyfriend, in only my lace thong and bra. “Thank you for looking after me last night, and I’m sorry about the club and for not telling you sooner.”
“I want to forget it, but that bitch better hope I never run into her.”
He bites down on my shoulder, and I wince at the unexpected sting. “I love it when you get all territorial and feisty.” Peeling the straps of my bra down my arms, he unclasps it and tosses it aside. I lean back against him, and his hands creep around to my front, trailing up my stomach. He cups my breasts, kneading them softly. “I love your tits,” he whispers, nibbling on the lobe of my ear. “And I wish I could join you, but I need to check on dinner.”
He grinds his hard-on against my ass, and a moan slips out of my mouth. “I don’t mind if it’s overdone. I’m used to burnt dinners,” I rasp.
He chuckles, rubbing his crotch against the crack of my ass while his fingers tweak my nipples. Lust stirs low in my belly. “Tempting as that is, I want tonight to be special.”
“Every night with you is special.”
He turns me around, and the look of adoration on his face gets me right in the feels. “I love you, Gabby. I love you so very much.” He presses his forehead to mine. “And I really am so sorry about that girl in the club. I promise it will never happen again.”
I sweep hair back off his face. “Dylan, it’s okay. I forgive you, and I trust you.”
He fuses our lips together, kissing me passionately, igniting every nerve ending in my body. I press my semi-naked body against his, needing him to fill me. “I need you,” I whisper over his mouth.
“And you shall have me.” He pulls back, grinning. “But after we eat.” I pout, and he laughs before his eyes darken with lust. “Take off your thong,” he commands. “I want to see all of you.”
Licking my lips, I shimmy the barely there lace down my legs and perch on the edge of the tub, opening my legs. “See how much I need you?” I tease, opening my legs wider.
The bulge in his sweatpants mushrooms, and there’s no ignoring his obvious arousal. “Fuck. Me.”
“Yes, please.” I’m not above begging.
He holds my chin, tilting my face up, and bites my lip. The sharp sting sends shockwaves of lust whipping through me, and I grab his ass, pressing myself into his hard-on. “Baby, please.”
His eyes are black pools of desire as he stares at me. “Get in the tub, drink your wine, and pleasure yourself, but you’re not allowed to come.”
Everything south of my belly button tightens and tingles. “Fuck, that’s hot.”
His answering smile is pleased. “Wear a sexy dress, but nothing else. I want easy access.” Leaning in, he kisses me sweetly. “Love you to bits, Dimples.”
“Love you too, stud.” I swat him on the ass as he departs the room. “Even if you are leaving me wanting.”
“Not for long, baby,” he promises with a seductive grin before closing the door.
I love this new, more domineering side of Dylan’s personality and the added excitement it’s brought to our bedroom activities. But, in this moment, as I stroke myself to the brink of release but hold back, like he’s asked, I kinda want to knee him in the junk too.
Dinner is delectable, and I polish off every morsel, which is a miracle because I’m panting with desire and squirming in my seat the entire time. Dylan runs his hands up and down my legs and the insides of my thighs as we eat, teasing me until I’m a writhing hot mess on the chair.
Once the table is cleared, he lifts me up onto it, pulling me out to the edge, and proceeds to remove my dress. When I’m completely bare to him, he lowers me back, spreading my legs and devouring me with his tongue and his fingers. I orgasm in record time, and then he carries me to the bedroom.
“Lie on your stomach,” he instructs, and I oblige. Warm liquid drops onto my back, and then Dylan is massaging every part of me with firm hands. I’m like a quivery mass of Jell-O on the bed as he skillfully caresses every inch of my body. When he’s finished, he nudges my legs up until I’m kneeling, plunging two fingers inside me. He pumps his fingers in and out of me fast, and I’m spiraling toward bliss again. Then he slams into me without warning, and I cry out as he fills me up. He fucks me hard and fast, and I’m ascending a peak when he pushes his thumb into my ass, pressing it in as far as it will go. I buck like a wild animal, climaxing again a few seconds later. Dylan roars as his orgasm hits, pumping his hot seed inside me.
While we used condoms when we first started sleeping together—even though I was already on the pill—we decided to forgo them after the first time we went bareback. Neither of us have ever slept with anyone else, and we don’t plan to. I’ve been on the pill for years, and I love the feel of him buried deep inside me with no barrier. Fucking with condoms is no comparison.
“Jesus, Dylan. That was incredible.”
He drops down beside me, pulling me into his side. “Every time with you is incredible. You were made for me, Gabby. We fit together in every conceivable way.”
I fall asleep, cocooned in his arms, feeling cherished and loved.
Chapter Eight
The rest of the week passes in a blur of coursework and late nights at the library. I go for a run with Ryan on Thursday night, and I quiz him on his intentions toward Myndi in the coffee place after. “I like her. A lot,” he tells me. “And I promise I’ll treat her good. Contrary to my rep, I treat every girl with respect. I tell every single one of them my intentions before we do anything.”
I stare incredulously at him. “So, what? You say I’m just gonna fuck you and leave you?”
He thumps me on the arm. “Always so crude.” I flip up my middle finger, and he chuckles, slinging his arm over my shoulders. Ryan is the most affectionate of my brothers, and he’s going to make some girl extremely happy one day. Whenever he decides to stop fucking around and settle down that is.
“And to answer your question, I make sure every girl understands it’s a one-time thing and that there’ll be no seconds.”
“But none of them appear to get that.” Honestly, the number of girls chasing after Ryan at any one time is ridiculous.
“Multiple orgasms tend to nuke a few brain cells or they purposely choose to forget.” He shrugs, and I spit coffee all over the table.
“TMI, Ryan. Jesus.” I shudder. “Unless you want me to share intimate details, and I’ll tell you—”
He clamps his hand over my mouth. “Most definitely not. I like Dylan. Don’t give me reasons to hate him.”
“So.” I drum my fingers off the top of the table. “What are your intentions toward Myndi? And I’ll take the censored reply, please.”
He smirks. “I haven’t met any girl in years that I’ve liked enough to want to take it slow. To get to know her better. But I do with her. I can’t tell you what’s going to come of it, if anything, but I will promise you to treat her right, and I’ll do my utmost not to hurt her.”
“Fair enough, and I appreciate that. She’s my best friend, and I don’t want anything to get awkward between all of us.”
“Speaking of. Did you talk to Dylan about the shit with Slate?”
I nod, trying to ignore the knots coiling in my gut. I believe Dylan, but the thoughts of any girl with her hands all over him sour my stomach. I’m trying to push it from my mind, to forget it like I promised Dylan I would, but, for some reason, I keep dwelling on it. “I did, and it’s all cool.”
It’s obvious Slater didn’t tell Ryan, because Dylan’s face is still intact. I owe Slater big time for that. While there isn’t much I keep from my brother, I don’t want him knowing as it’ll only cause more hassle so I’m deliberately downplaying it. But my brother is an astute fucker, and he stares me out of it, waiting for me to spill my guts. I school my features into a blasé smile, and, after a tense face-off, he finally backs down. “Okay, that’s good. Hopefully, everyone can play nice from now on.”
I’m coming out of the pharmacy the next evening when I see them.
Dylan is across the road, leaning against the wall, smiling as he talks to a tall girl with long dark hair. I don’t recognize her, and I don’t like the way she’s leering at my man. My instinct is to charge across the road with all guns blazing which is most unlike me. I’m not usually jealous. Deciding to hold back, I plaster myself to the side of the building, hiding in the shadows as I watch them.
When Forever Changes Page 6