Dylan (Wild Men)

by Melissa Belle

  His jaw tightens. “Tell me what worries you about us.”

  I feel tears prick my eyes as I speak with my heart stripped bare for one of the only times in my life. “I’m scared of when it ends.”

  Dylan’s lips part in surprise.

  I get it. He’s not used to me being emotionally accessible—I’ve used sarcasm and quips far too much.

  “But that’s why I wanted to talk about this. Because I fucking love you, Jasalie,” he says.

  My heart soars.

  “But like you intimated earlier, we’re from two different realities,” I say to him. “So while the danger aspect doesn’t scare me off, you’re rich and famous and together and I’m…not.”

  “Rich and famous aren’t a self-definition,” he argues. “More like a way of life. Inside, we couldn’t be better matched.”

  “I love you for saying that. The way you fight for us. I love that. I love you. I’m just not sure I believe you.”

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I clap my hand over my face.

  Shit. I didn’t mean to say those three words. It was like they just slipped out.

  “What did you say?” Dylan asks me.

  “I said,” I mumble through my hand. “‘I’m not sure I believe you.’”

  “No, the other part. What did you say?”

  I drop my hands into my lap and stare into his dark searching eyes.

  Dylan scoots closer to me. “Say it again.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t.”

  Not right now.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t say those words to anybody. At least, I never have before.”

  “Never?” he asks. “What about to your family? Or just a friend?”

  “Nope. Never.” At least not that I can remember. “So please understand that when I do say them, it’s a very big deal.”

  “Wow. Okay.” He reaches out to stroke my hair. “Are you all right?”

  The elevator is suddenly feeling very claustrophobic. “Do you think there’s enough air in here?” I say.

  “What? Of course there is. We’re fine, baby. Someone will get the car moving any minute now.”

  I take a deep breath. And I realize that he’s right. There is enough air. I’m okay.

  I look into Dylan’s dark eyes, and the gold sparkles so brightly I feel like I see all of him. Who he is underneath the fame and the football and everything the world sees. I get to witness this man’s gentleness and tenderness, and I get to feel his love. All that other stuff just fades away.

  Before I can stop myself, I take his face in my hands and kiss him. “I hate thinking about the ending,” I say into his mouth.

  “Me too. So let’s not think.” His fingers unhook my bra in a second. “I want to be with all of you. Right now. There are no cameras in these elevators—Tim checks all of that crap before I go anywhere. He’s freaking paranoid about everything.”

  “I don’t know.” I look up at the elevator panel. “What if they call to us again?”

  Dylan’s hot breath on my neck sends chills down my spine.

  “Then I guess we’ll answer them. But maybe we’ll be breathless.”

  He runs his warm hands over my ribs, pulling up my satin shirt at the same time. When he lifts it over my head, my nipples immediately pucker from the cool breeze of the air-conditioned elevator. Dylan’s gaze is fiery as he notices, and suddenly I’m flat on my back.

  “I want you to come so hard you forget you were ever upset with me.” He kisses each of my breasts, and uses his free hand to pull down my jeans at lightning speed.

  “I wasn’t up—”

  Before I’ve finished speaking, he flips me around to my hands and knees.

  Uh-oh.

  I’ve never had sex in this position before. I never trusted the guy I was with enough not to see his face.

  “Dylan.” My voice is halting.

  His hand is between my legs. “I’ll make sure you’re ready, Jasalie. Don’t worry.”

  “No, I…” I bite my lip and then spill the truth. “I’ve never done this with someone before.”

  He flips me back around so he can meet my gaze. “Which part? The elevator or the position?”

  “Well, both. But the part I was talking about was…you know. The doggy-style thing.”

  He bites back on a smile. “That’s a horrible description of it.”

  “That’s what I’ve always heard it called.”

  I glance away. But Dylan tips my chin up with his hand so I have nowhere to look but into his eyes.

  “We’ll do something else then. Okay?”

  I nod, trying to squash the disappointment I feel.

  Because…

  Dylan’s gaze flies to mine. “Wait. Do you want to try it? Hell, whatever position you want will make me happy. But you look curious.”

  My cheeks are flaming. “No, I don’t.”

  His dimples get bigger. “You do. You look very curious. And I’m more than happy to help.”

  I felt so exposed when I had my ass up like that a few moments ago. I couldn’t believe how much it turned me on. To have Dylan see me that way. To feel his hand reach for me from behind.

  “Will you be able to get inside me from that angle?” I ask him.

  He reaches down and pulls my pants and underwear the rest of the way off. “You can spread your legs more this way. And we’ll go really slowly.”

  “Do you have a condom with you?”

  He produces one from his pocket.

  I’m almost disappointed.

  I haven’t told Dylan I’m on the pill. Any girl who was abandoned by her teenage mother thinks—a lot—about the concept of an unplanned pregnancy, and I was no exception. I went on the pill right around the age my mother was when she had me. No way was I taking a risk of making the same mistakes as her.

  But I don’t feel ready to ask Dylan if he’s been tested and get into some long conversation with him about ditching the condom.

  So I grab the foil packet out of his hand, unzip his pants, and help him roll the condom on.

  Then I start to turn around. But before I can, he grabs me and kisses me hard on the lips before looking right into my eyes. “It will still be me back here. Even if you can’t see me.”

  How did you know? I’m about to say. But the words die on my lips because Dylan shifts me around, and before I know what’s happening, his hardness is brushing my wetness from behind.

  “Dylan, God.” I throw my head back, hitting his shoulder.

  His arm goes around my torso and his fingers graze my nipple, lightly at first and then harder. I’m trembling already even though he’s not inside me yet. Just the anticipation has my body in spasms.

  He keeps one hand on my hip, and his stomach presses up against my ass as he slowly thrusts inside.

  Just like the first time, he slides all the way in so effortlessly that we’re both surprised.

  “Christ.” His mouth is near my ear now. “Jasalie, I want to fuck the lights out of you right now.”

  “Yes.” I push back into him, desperate for the contact. “I want that, too.”

  “But we’re making love,” he says more softly as he pulls out and then shifts into me again. “We’re always making love.”

  I know what he means. Even when it’s wanton and dirty and a little desperate, maybe because we just fought over something so meaningless, having sex with Dylan is always filled with love.

  He fills me so perfectly I nearly scream as he goes as far inside as he’s capable. Farther than anyone ever has. Parts of me that were never touched by anyone before are now being made love to by Dylan.

  But I want something more. I can’t even verbalize it because I’ve never had the thought or inclination before to want what I’m suddenly craving. But when he pulls away from me, I arch back, seeking him again.

  Dylan’s breath catches when he puts his hand on my stomach and I let out a loud moan.

  “Babe.” He nibbles
my shoulder as his movements get choppier. “I want to touch you.”

  “So touch me,” I dare him as I glance over my shoulder and meet his eyes.

  I keep the eye contact as he moves his hand down my stomach and between my legs. I claw at the carpeted floor of the elevator and drop my head.

  “Dylan, I can’t take it. I’m going to come. I have to come. Please, God…”

  Dylan’s groans are matching mine now, and as his movements get more urgent, he takes both his hands and holds onto my hips like he needs them to anchor him.

  “Jasalie, I’m going to co…”

  I don’t hear the rest of what he says because my orgasm tears through me. It begins from deep inside and I just…erupt.

  Euphoric pleasure fills every part of my body, and I’m still shaking when Dylan’s arms go around me and I’m pulled back onto his lap.

  “Unbelievable.” His voice is soft in my ear. “Every time with you is better than the last. Every damn time, Jasalie.”

  Whoever said love in an elevator is extra sexy wasn’t kidding.

  With no notice, the car starts moving again.

  “Crap.” I jump up. “Clothes, Dylan! Clothes!”

  He throws me my bra, and then my underwear, before pulling his pants up.

  I’ve just finished dressing when we reach the lobby where a staff member is standing. “Everything all right, Mr. Wild?”

  “Yes, sir,” Dylan says. “We stopped in between floors for a few minutes. It wasn’t too long.”

  The man turns to me. “Are you okay, ma’am? You’re awfully red.”

  I pretend to fan my face. “I thought I was going to pass out.”

  I hope I don’t smell like sex.

  “Well, we’re going to have our maintenance crew check into it further,” he says. “Some people were waiting for this elevator and said they heard strange noises coming from it.”

  Must have been the moaning.

  I can’t look at Dylan, who says, “Thank you. Have a good day, sir.” He takes my arm and leads me away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  As soon as we leave the lobby, we go straight past the lone cameraman still in town and right for the car. Dylan opens the door for me, and I climb in. It’s a cool, windy afternoon in Tucson, the coldest one since I’ve been here. My satin purple top doesn’t do much to keep the chilly air off my skin.

  We slip around to the back of the hotel and down a side street Dylan found. Making sure no one’s following us, we drive to the base of the mountains, and Dylan pulls off at a nearly-hidden trailhead. Even from this tiny parking lot, the mountains are clearly visible. And they’re still so beautiful my throat aches. Our car is the only one in the lot, and I exhale in relief. No cameras and no people, at least not right now.

  We step out onto the trail and walk for a little while in silence until Dylan stops by a large flat rock.

  “Is this good?” he asks me.

  I nod. Here it is. The moment I’ve been doing such a great job of avoiding is here, and at this point, I couldn’t lie if I wanted to. It’s too late in the game. A large part of me just wants to get the truth over with, anyway. Trying to keep the secret from Dylan has been extremely draining.

  “I want you to know more about me, but I don’t want to scare you off,” I say.

  “You won’t.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.” I smile at him. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I love you, Jasalie.” He leans over and kisses me. “I. Love. You,” he whispers.

  His cheeks are flushed, and his dark eyes are lasers as they pin me in place, begging me to say it back.

  I give him what I can, as much of me as I’m able to.

  “I just…” I fumble for the words. “I don’t get this. Us. I never believed in love before. Any kind of love.”

  Dylan touches my cheek. “I guess I dropped the ball the other day at lunch,” he says. “Because I didn’t ask you those important questions you asked me. You know…what are your relationships like with your parents and your friends? I mean I know you were homeless for a time, so obviously, your life hasn’t been all roses.”

  “It’s definitely not a pleasant picture.” My voice comes out in a hoarse whisper.

  “Take your time.”

  I sit down across from him on the rock and cross my legs. I drop my gaze and stare at Dylan’s black jeans for several seconds. The silence between us grows bigger, and I hate the tension so much that I start talking.

  “On any given day, about four hundred and fifteen thousand kids are in foster care in this country.”

  Dylan lets out a strangled sound. “Honey, are you—”

  I cut him off, knowing if I don’t keep going, I won’t be able to. “That house we drove by is my birth mother’s last known address.”

  “Christ, Jasalie.”

  “I haven’t heard from her since I was little. Then recently, I received a letter letting me know that my mother’s gambling debts have gotten the best of her. She owes twenty five grand, and the casino will take her home if she doesn’t pay off the money. I was told I had sixty days to help her if I could.” I take a deep breath. “So when you offered the money in exchange for some photo ops with you, I said yes.”

  Dylan’s hand reaches for mine.

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever actually knock on her door or not or if I’ll just mail her a check. I don’t know if I want to take the risk of seeing her in person or not. Because the chances are high that she’ll just reject me all over again.”

  Except this time, I’d be old enough to remember every detail.

  Dylan’s thumb is stroking my palm now. “How old were you when you lost her?”

  “My dad left before I was born, and my mom turned me in to foster services on my fourth birthday. She was twenty. I never saw her again.”

  I stare at Dylan’s thumb rubbing soothing circles on my hand as I continue. “I bounced around from family to family every couple of years. I finally settled down with one woman, Ilene, until I was eleven. She was my first real foster mother. Then, she had an accident, and I went to live with Zoe and Lionel till I was fifteen. And they were both fine. No abuse, ever, at any of the places. I was very, very lucky. Zoe and Lionel taught me about good food and how to toast properly. All the important stuff you know.” I break into a nervous giggle. “But that was pretty much it for me in terms of stability. I ended up on the streets for half a year and had to drop out of high school. I learned to defend myself with some basic moves, like the one I used on that asshole paparazzo.”

  I breathe out the last of my confession. “I just had no sense of security or of love. So I guess I’m not too keen on opening myself up again. You know?”

  I force myself to look up and meet Dylan’s gaze for the first time.

  His eyes shine with unshed tears. “Jesus, Jasalie. I’m sorry. I had no idea. I wish I hadn’t been so clueless. I just…” He runs his hand through his hair. “I guess I’m spoiled. I assumed you had a family more like mine.”

  “Stable? Loving? Normal?” I joke.

  My secret’s out, and as usual, I’m ashamed. Like never having a family was somehow my fault. Because not being normal always has a sticker attached to the outside world that makes people think, “You could have prevented this, couldn’t you?”

  Dylan grabs my hand. “Shit. You’re ice cold. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  As soon as we reach the car, Dylan turns the heat on full blast, but nothing’s warming me up.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I mutter as we reach the hotel. “I’m just so damn cold.”

  “Let’s go inside the hotel and get into bed,” Dylan suggests.

  I crawl into bed with all my clothes on.

  “Baby, you should change,” Dylan insists. “It will help warm you up. I’ll get your pajamas.”

  “I don’t own pajamas,” I tell him. “Have you ever seen me wear any?”

  “I thought that
was for my benefit,” he says with a grin. “I didn’t know you always slept in the nude.”

  “I don’t,” I say, my cheeks warming. “I usually just wear a t-shirt or something.”

  “Well, wear my sweats.” He rummages around in the drawer. “Here. These are warm.”

  Cougars’ sweatpants and sweatshirt, plus a Cougars’ jersey. And thick white socks.

  I smile my thanks as I change. My teeth chatter the entire time. Dylan turns on the heat in the room.

  “Dylan, you must be so hot. Don’t worry about the heat. I’ll warm up once I get under the covers again.”

  “I’ll turn it off once you’re feeling better,” he says. “But I’m not going to watch you freeze and do nothing.”

  I get his clothes on and climb into bed. Dylan snuggles in next to me and puts his arms around me.

  “Let me hold you,” he says as he hugs me to him tightly.

  I relax into his arms and allow him to wrap me up in his love.

  When I’ve stopped shaking, Dylan orders us some tea and soup.

  “All set,” Dylan says as he hangs up the phone. “Twenty minutes.”

  “Thank you.” I bring his head down to mine so I can kiss him.

  “Your lips are hot. Maybe that’s a good sign.”

  I smile. “Maybe. Maybe they’re just responding to your hotness.”

  He laughs. “I doubt your lips need any help.”

  I rest my head on his shoulder again and look down at my hands. “Yeah, so I’m kind of from nowhere. Nowhere to go back to, either.”

  “I think you’re even more amazing than I did before.” Dylan kisses the top of my head. “I wish you hadn’t been afraid to tell me. Do you realize how strong of a person you are?”

  “No,” I say honestly. “I guess I don’t think about my past as a positive. More like a handicap.”

  “You should think about who you are as a positive,” he says. “I’m so incredibly proud of you. You should be proud of you, too.”

  “That’s partly why your charity hit home for me so much. The fact that you’re working with foster kids—I felt even more of a connection with you.”

  “I remember your reaction,” he says quietly, his eyes closing like he’s reliving the moment. “You looked so startled. I asked if you were okay.”