As though watching in slow motion, Sarah’s breath shuddered in her chest when Dylan lifted his hand, hesitantly cupping her face, his callused thumb making a few gentle swipes across her cheekbone, then slipping lower. The rough pad caressed her bottom lip and she knew she was doomed.
The warning bells were clanging loudly in her head, yet she didn’t pull away from him. His touch was … warm, tender. That affectionate gesture was enough to kick her heart into overdrive, and that yearning she’d been filled with took over.
It’d been so long since a man had touched her.
Three years. Three long, painful years.
Not since Paul. Not since before her husband’s death had rocked the very foundation of her world, leaving her nursing a broken heart as she tried to understand what had caused the man she loved, the man she had vowed to spend the rest of her life with, to take his own life.
But Sarah didn’t want to think about Paul right now. He had abandoned her, and the irrational side of her still hadn’t forgiven him.
There was a different man here. One she didn’t worry about falling in love with, didn’t worry about having her heart broken by. Not this time, anyway.
Dylan Thomas.
A different type of ghost from her past.
And Dylan was touching her. The soothing sweep of his fingers over her jaw was almost too much to bear. When his other hand released the clip from her hair, allowing the curly strands to fall past her shoulders, Sarah swallowed hard. The intensity in his dark brown eyes was enough to set her insides ablaze.
“Sa—”
She cut him off, putting her fingers over his lips. She didn’t want him to say her name; she simply wanted to feel. She didn’t want to be that broken, sorrow-filled woman anymore. She wanted to let go for a while, give in to the impulses that she’d denied for so long. Nonetheless, there was a desperation in his tone that she felt echoing inside herself. He needed this as much as she did, and neither of them was strong enough to resist.
Sarah shook her head. Whether she was saying they couldn’t do this or simply telling him that words weren’t necessary, she wasn’t sure. But then he was leaning down, his long, strong finger curling beneath her chin to tilt her head back. His eyes studied her face briefly and she wondered what he was thinking about.
Before words had a chance to ruin the moment, his mouth was on hers, and nothing else mattered except for the light brush of his lips against her own, the subtle yet determined slide of his tongue along the seam, a silent plea to allow him entry.
With hardly any hesitation, she opened for him, meeting him halfway, her hands fisting into his T-shirt as her tongue tentatively skimmed his. For all of a second, the kiss was hesitant, an uncertain exploration. Sweet. Almost reverent.
But in the next instant, the world ignited into a fiery conflagration of passion and need. Their bodies collided, hands and mouths seeking, searching for that something that would calm the riot of emotions churning within them. Separate, but similar.
All the pain she’d been consumed by shattered, leaving her feeling free for once. Free to lose herself in this man, this moment.
Dylan’s dark growl sparked the dry kindling that had been so much a part of her for so long, sending her up in flames almost instantly. Her arms went around his neck as he tore at the buttons on the oversized shirt she wore over her leggings, sending the tiny discs flying, pinging off the wall and hardwood, in his heated attempt to get closer to her.
“All the things I want to do to you…”
She didn’t need him to finish the sentence, which was good because he clearly had no intention of doing so. There was no mistaking where this was headed, and Sarah couldn’t find it in herself to put a stop to it. She tried to rationalize her actions, but that became too much when his bristled jaw scraped along her chin.
Too many clothes.
When he had the front hook of her bra unclasped, he forced her back a step, his eyes lingering on the skin he’d unveiled, and the unbridled approval in his molten gaze sent warmth coursing through her. His callused hands abraded her naked breasts, leaving tingles in their wake and a yearning ache building inside her. Without finesse, Sarah wiggled out of her shirt and bra, allowing them to pool at the floor near their feet.
Naked from the waist up, she reached for Dylan, pulling him to her as her back met the wall with a thud, one of his large hands palming her head at the last second, keeping her from slamming against it.
He was warm and solid, his strength evident. She wanted to absorb some of it into her body, to feel whole one more time in her life. Sarah doubted it would ever happen, but she wished it just the same.
“I need you,” he whispered against her mouth, his warm breath fanning her face, the scent of spearmint tickling her nose. “Need. You.”
She didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. She recognized that need, that overwhelming desperation to do something that would make her feel like she wasn’t about to crumble into a heap. At least for a little while.
Tugging at his T-shirt, she helped him to remove it before he worked on pushing her leggings down, her panties disappearing with them until she was standing naked between his solid body and the wall. Her fingers fumbled with the button on his jeans until she finally managed to release it, her lips grazing the hard planes of his smooth, bare chest, while he dug something out of his pocket.
The distinctive rustle barely registered, and she watched as he tore open the condom, forced his jeans and underwear down past his hips, then sheathed his long, thick cock. It wasn’t until he was lifting her off her feet so that she was practically wrapped around him that she realized this was really happening.
Her breath lodged in her throat when he pressed the head of his cock against her entrance only seconds before filling her completely in one desperate thrust of his hips.
“Dylan,” she cried out breathlessly, her fingers latching on to the flexing muscles in his shoulders. Pain, sharp and bright, had her holding her breath. It’d been so long; her body took a moment to adjust to the thick intrusion. Then, just as quickly as it’d come, the discomfort disappeared, leaving nothing but glorious pleasure as he slid deeper. “Yes.”
Dylan pushed into her a few inches before retreating, only to push back in again, her body stretching to allow the invasion. He was big, thick, filling her so … perfectly.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice rough. “Warm … wet… You feel so fucking good.”
Finding his mouth with hers again, Sarah kissed him, wanting to get lost. No thought, no justification. No regret or remorse. No fear of what would happen after. The only thing she knew was the intense, overwhelming ecstasy of him filling her, his rough hands gripping her thighs as he held her against the wall, his hips thrusting forward, and the glorious friction that ignited dormant nerve endings.
He impaled her, a slow, sensual grind at first. Then faster, harder, deeper. His hips driving forward, retreating, forward again. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t romantic, but Sarah didn’t care. They were seeking release, both of them, and she knew there was no turning back now.
He never let up, fucking her wildly, the desperation that outwardly consumed them both nearly palpable in the still, warm air that surrounded them. Her body clenched around him, tightening, pulling him in, and she knew she wasn’t going to last. Self-induced orgasms didn’t hold a candle to this.
“Dylan,” she panted. “Oh, please, yes. Don’t stop.”
Holding on to him, Sarah sought his tongue with her own, her fingernails digging into his scalp as her body hummed with satisfaction. The waves of her release built, driving her higher until she was hovering on a razor-sharp edge, eager to go over.
“Dylan … I’m … gonna …” She couldn’t complete the sentence before a firestorm of sensation consumed her, starting in her core and rippling outward in a ferocious rush as her orgasm crashed through her.
Dylan’s hips never stopped, his hands gripping her ass tightly as he
continued to hold her, thrusting deep, his fingertips digging into her flesh until…
He slammed into her one last time, his cock pulsing with his release, an animalistic roar vibrating from him. “Fuck. So good. So fucking good.”
And then the muscles in his body went rigid, and it was over.
He held her close, breathing hard, his eyes tightly shut, chest heaving, body trembling as he leaned into her. When Dylan dipped his face into the crook of her neck, Sarah cupped the back of his head, her fingers brushing his short hair, holding him and pressing kisses against his cheek.
And that was when she realized … Dylan was crying.
Her heart broke for him. For herself. For lost love and shattered hearts. For that empty spot deep inside that felt as though it would only continue to be a dull, aching void without that one person who’d given you something to live for. Without them … it was just unbearable.
Even as she soothed him, Sarah knew she couldn’t blame him for what they’d done. She’d been just as needy. He’d managed to push the demons that haunted her away for a little while, and for that, she was grateful.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, pulling out of her and helping her back to her feet, never once meeting her eyes. “Fuck.”
While she stood there, unsure what to say or do, Dylan rolled the condom off and disappeared into the kitchen. She quickly grabbed her discarded shirt, forcing her arms into it and wrapping it securely around her naked body. When he came back a minute later, his jeans were buttoned, his expression still sad. He looked a little worse for wear, sweat dotting his forehead, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and that was when she accepted what would come next.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered sadly. “So fucking sorry.”
She nodded. She was sorry, too.
He grabbed his shirt from the floor beside the door, and she realized that was the only article of clothing he’d removed. He had even kept his boots on.
“I should go.”
She offered another nod.
“I’m—”
“Go,” Sarah ordered before he could apologize again. She suddenly didn’t want to hear it.
Dylan’s haunted gaze lifted to hers, and Sarah saw the pain and the grief, along with something else. He was genuinely sorry.
And so was she.
“Sarah,” Dylan began, reaching for the doorknob while she white-knuckled her shirt, keeping it closed.
She cut him off, not wanting to hear his excuses. “Just go. No apologies necessary. I know what this was.”
Surprising her, his thick, dark brows lowered, his pain-filled eyes narrowing as though he was waiting for her to explain it to him.
“A distraction,” she said sorrowfully. “That’s what this was.”
“A distraction,” he echoed, then turned and left her standing there, feeling just as she’d felt all those years ago, back in high school, when she’d lost Dylan the first time.
Strange how history repeated itself.
“Do you think you were ready for that?” Elaine asked after Sarah had been quiet for a while.
Sarah knew Elaine was referring to the intimacy she and Dylan had shared. Since she’d left out the part where Dylan broke down and cried, the woman would never know how devastating it had really been.
Rather than elaborate, Sarah shook her head, her gaze darting around the room, taking it in. The celery-colored walls, the rows of diplomas framed and perfect, the contrasting curtains covering the window. She wasn’t in the past anymore. She was here…in this office, spilling her guts to someone who was supposed to help her overcome the sadness that had consumed her for so long. “I don’t think either of us was ready for that. What transpired between me and Dylan will never happen again.”
“Why is that?”
“Because we’re broken.”
“And that means you can’t find happiness?”
Sarah met Elaine’s questioning gaze. “It means neither of us is whole enough to pull the other through.”
“And you think that’s a requirement?”
She shrugged. It seemed logical.
“And how do you feel today? After you’ve had time to process what happened between the two of you.”
“I know I’ll never be the same.” Sarah swallowed hard, still holding Elaine’s steady gaze. “I know that the second Dylan walked out my front door, I wasn’t the same woman anymore.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean…” Sarah dropped her gaze to her hands and took a shaky breath. “I only thought I was broken before.”
“And you aren’t now?”
Sarah lifted her gaze, allowed the imaginary walls to fall in place around her heart once again. “Oh, I am,” she said with certainty. “But I refuse to let it own me anymore.”
“What do you plan to do about it?”
That was a good question. One Sarah didn’t know the answer to. Not yet.
But the one thing she did know…
She was tired of being broken.
Damn tired.
chapter ONE
Three years later, January 7
Present day
DYLAN THOMAS KEPT HIS GAZE fixed on the horizon, watching the storm clouds roll in. For the past ten minutes, he hadn’t been able to move, transfixed by the desolation from the coming storm. Long gone were the thin white clouds and in their place, heavy dark ones that blocked out the evening sun, stirring slowly as they rolled closer. There was something eerily familiar about the scene before him, but he knew it had nothing to do with the place.
The churning water, the darkening sky… It was the same as the emotions that had warred within him for years. Only he was a little more than three years sober now, and the uncomfortable feeling he’d once had when the gloomy, roiling emotions pulled at him was no longer present. He wouldn’t say he was whole again—wasn’t sure he ever would be—but Dylan knew he wasn’t quite as damaged.
He’d been standing here as the outdoor patio filled with people, conversation and laughter pushing away the sound of the water lapping several yards below them. The warmth from the heaters held the chill at bay while the music playing in the speakers overhead drifted softly on the breeze. Every now and then he could make out the familiar words of the Eagles.
“How’re you doing?”
Dylan glanced over to see his sister, Ashleigh, coming to stand beside him, a huge grin on her face. His baby sister looked good. Healthy, happy, despite the tension he could see at the corners of her eyes.
He shifted slightly so he could see her better. “Good. You?”
He had to give her credit, the look on her face said she wanted to believe him. He knew it would take time before Ashleigh truly trusted his words, but it was evident she was trying. It didn’t matter how many days, weeks, or even months had passed, Ashleigh seemed to live in a constant state of fear where Dylan was concerned. Rightfully so considering the hell he’d put his family and friends through over the course of the last decade. He didn’t remember a lot of the incidents his family had told him about, but Dylan knew that the alcoholism had made him do and say plenty of things he wasn’t proud of.
Although he was working his way back to the land of the living, he suspected his sister expected him to relapse at any moment.
“I’m good,” she replied, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “A little tired from all the prep work. But we’ve had a good turnout. Don’t you think?”
“Not bad.” The yearly CISS company party had been scheduled for months in advance, and though this was a bittersweet event, Dylan was still glad he’d come. And yes, the turnout had been better than expected, considering the rumors that were currently winding their way through the company, some true, some speculation.
“Hopefully the weather will hold up,” his sister said, taking a step back and leaning against the railing, facing the others while Dylan continued to watch the choppy water of the lake beneath them.
“We might get lucky,” he stated,
although he was beginning to have his doubts. Far off in the distance, he could see the rain bands.
“Let’s hope.”
He felt the tension every time she spoke to him, and he knew she was probably wondering if he was going to fall apart. Or perhaps she thought he already had and he was once again trying to pretend otherwise.
He wished he could tell her that wouldn’t happen again, but hell, Dylan wasn’t even sure himself. Sobriety happened one day at a time, and he was on day 1,156, yet sometimes it felt like day one.
With that said, he was here at the party to show that he was back in the game. It was another of his many efforts to convince his family and friends that he was working to keep himself out of the deep, dark hole he’d spent most of the last decade in.
He was trying at least.
“Glad Alex picked the restaurant over the boat,” Ashleigh tacked on, obviously realizing he had nothing to say.
Dylan’s business partner and brother-in-law, Alex McDermott, had wanted to have the party on a boat out on the lake for old time’s sake, but Dylan had convinced him to change it at the last minute. For one, it was January. Although the temperatures had been relatively mild, the wind had a bite to it, and it was not the time to be out on the water. The weatherman had been predicting storms all week, and the last thing he’d wanted was for them to be stuck out on a boat, so they’d settled on the waterfront restaurant where they’d had the party last year.
“How is Alex?” Dylan asked, glancing over at Ashleigh briefly. He’d yet to see Ashleigh’s husband since he’d arrived half an hour ago.
“He’s okay.” She let out a deep sigh. “I think it’s finally sunk in that this is a reality.”
And by reality, his sister was referring to the fact that the company her husband had worked so hard to build was in fact having financial hardship. One that, no matter how hard they’d tried over the last year, they weren’t able to recoup from. This would likely be the last company party for CISS, which was why Alex had been so adamant about having it.
“How’d the meeting go yesterday?” Ashleigh asked. “He didn’t tell me much.”
Distraction (Club Destiny Book 8) Page 2