by Erika Wilde
He sat back in his office chair and grinned to himself. “Holy shit, I finally figured it out,” he said, both exhilarated and relieved that the codes and interface were free of bugs and glitches and the app was working smoothly and as it should.
“Figured out what, boss?” Owen, the marketing manager at Stone Media, asked as he walked into Dylan’s office.
“The issue on the Boyfriend Experience app that’s been making me crazy the past few weeks,” Dylan said, crossing his hands behind his head as he leaned back farther in his leather chair. “The problem has been identified and fixed, and the app itself is ready to rock and roll.”
“Oh, cool.” All business, Owen’s tone lacked the level of enthusiasm Dylan was hoping for as he set a few sheets of paper on Dylan’s desk. “Here’s the printout of the specs you wanted for the initial framework and design for the Sapphire Casino and Hotel prototype app. I just wanted to make sure you had everything to review before I left for the evening.”
“Yeah, thanks. I appreciate it.” Dylan glanced over the computer-generated wireframe diagram, then looked at Owen again. “We’ll go over all this in tomorrow morning’s staff meeting. Also, let’s talk about getting the beta testing rolling on the Boyfriend Experience app and set up a firm launch date.”
“Will do.” Owen headed out of his office with a wave. “I’ll see you in the morning, boss.”
Alone again, and with no one around to share in Dylan’s initial excitement over the Boyfriend Experience app, his own enthusiasm waned and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of gnawing emptiness inside. It wasn’t difficult to pinpoint why he felt that way, considering it had all started when Serena stopped being his go-to person for just about everything. The separation was her doing, not his, but it had happened nonetheless, and not having his best friend around anymore royally sucked.
Normally, she’d be the first person he’d call to tell about the app, especially considering the two of them had created the concept together one night when she’d ended up on his doorstep after one of her dates from hell. At first, the suggestion had been nothing more than a joke, but by the end of that night and after a carton of Ben & Jerry’s, it had become a fully formed idea they both knew would appeal to women who wanted or needed a temporary date or boyfriend for personal or business reasons.
So, really, while Serena had been the inspiration behind the app’s purpose, it had been both of their brainchild, and up until Vegas, he’d shared the entire step-by-step process with her. The fact that he couldn’t do that now was, well, depressing as hell.
Then again, why couldn’t he tell her, he wondered as he drummed his fingers on the surface of his desk, an idea forming in his mind. She might not pick up his phone calls, but if he just showed up at her door on a Wednesday evening, would she really shut it in his face or turn him away? Probably not. He’d given her time and space, and goddamnit, he wanted his best friend back.
Decision made, he shut down his computer, locked up the office, and drove to Serena’s apartment complex. As he pulled into one of the nearby guest parking spots, he caught Grant leaving her place, and Dylan turned off his engine so he could cloak himself in the darkness until Coffee Bean Guy was gone.
After stepping onto her small front porch, Grant turned back to Serena and went in for a kiss. She didn’t refuse him, and Dylan felt his stomach muscles cramp in pure jealousy. He could still remember what those plush lips felt like beneath his, how sweet she tasted, and the soft, arousing noises she made as he’d deepened the kiss and she melted against him. And now, it was pure fucking torture to watch another man take those liberties when there wasn’t a damn thing Dylan could do about it.
He wasn’t there to cause trouble with Coffee Bean Guy, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Serena for himself. He did. So badly, he ached with a searing need that was difficult to ignore. But tonight was about reestablishing their friendship, and not staking a claim, and he exhaled a deep breath and kept reminding himself of that fact.
As soon as Grant drove out of the complex, Dylan made his way up to Serena’s door and knocked. It opened a few seconds later.
“Hey, did you forget something . . .” Her words trailed off and the lighthearted smile on Serena’s face turned into a frown. “Oh. I was expecting Grant.”
He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and gave her one of those dimpled grins that usually softened her right up. “Well, you would have known it was me if you’d looked through the peephole,” he joked.
She wasn’t amused. She crossed her arms over her chest, and he recognized it for the emotionally defensive, protective gesture it was. “What do you want, Dylan?” she asked, her voice almost sounding vulnerable. As if she was fighting her feelings for him, trying to hold back, and it gave him a sliver of hope. “I have papers to grade tonight.”
Ouch. That hurt. She could spend time with Grant with those papers waiting to be graded, but now Dylan was the equivalent of chopped liver? Yeah, that definitely stung.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
Her eyes swam with the hurt he’d inflicted on her over a month ago, even though he’d apologized for what had happened that night in Vegas, for letting his own desire for her shatter the control he’d spent his adult years keeping in check around her. But Jesus, the want and need were still there simmering beneath the surface, possibly even stronger than before. And he had no clue what to do with all the weird feelings swirling inside him.
“Please?” His own voice was low, almost a bit pleading, because he didn’t think he could bear to hear her say no to him. “It’ll just be for a few minutes.”
She stood firm for a few more seconds, and then her stiff shoulders and cautious body language eased as she stepped aside and widened the door for him to enter. He did, gratefully, and didn’t stop until they were in her living room and he was facing her. She was dressed for an evening in, wearing a comfortable pair of drawstring sweatpants with a simple T-shirt and her hair piled up on her head. She’d stuck a pencil through the mass to hold it in place, and all he could think was that her outfit was not one meant for seduction, and she’d probably sent Grant on his way without him getting lucky for the night.
And yeah, that possibility pleased Dylan immensely.
Serena stared at him expectantly, and he cleared his throat and rerouted his thoughts to the reason he was there.
“The Boyfriend Experience app is done,” he told her, retrieving his cell phone from his back pocket to show her the final interface. “It took me forever to locate that last glitch, but I finally fixed it and now we’re getting ready to push the app into beta testing. I wanted you to know, since this was your idea as much as mine.”
At that news, her eyes lit up with the excitement he’d been craving, and his heart raced when he saw glimpses of Serena, the woman who’d always been his best friend. The one person he’d shared everything with, who made him whole and complete, and it felt so fucking good to see that lighthearted, joyful girl reappear in front of him again when he thought he might have lost her for good.
Optimism filled Dylan as he went through the app with Serena, covering all the new features and showing her how it all worked and integrated. He loved her enthusiasm as she asked questions, moving closer and closer to his side to see his phone screen more clearly. When he was done with the demonstration, she looked up at him with an unguarded, genuinely happy smile that hit him like pure sunshine that chased away the cloud of gloom that had been hovering over him for weeks.
Of its own accord, his gaze lowered to her mouth, and suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, everything shifted and changed between them, and it was as though both of them had been transported back to that night in Vegas, to the part where they’d surrendered to the kind of intense passion and desire he’d never experienced with any other woman.
The thick, undeniable awareness seemed to draw them together like a magnet. Her lips parted as she stared into his eyes as if hypnotized by the irresisti
ble pull between them, her breathing slowing, deepening, while her irises darkened to midnight blue.
Temptation beckoned to him. “Serena,” he whispered, that ache in his chest spreading to every limb in his body, making him weak with longing.
The guttural, almost helpless tone to his voice seemed to penetrate her haze, and she gave her head a stern shake as though to clear it, then took a safe step back as if she didn’t trust him, or even herself.
She nervously wiped her hands down the front of her sweatpants and tried to gather her composure, as well as put up that goddamn wall between them again. “I’m really glad you figured out the problem with the app,” she said, as if she was talking to a business associate instead of a guy she’d known her entire life. “It’s great, by the way. If I was single, I’d use it.”
The bland, almost aloof tone of her voice scraped along his nerves. Oh, yeah, she was totally scrambling to get her emotions back under control, while he wanted to obliterate her suddenly cool, detached demeanor.
“What do you mean, if you were single?”
She shrugged. “Well, I’m dating someone, as you already know.”
“Oh, you mean Coffee Bean Guy?”
She blinked in startled surprise at the nickname he’d given her current beau, but didn’t crack a smile like she normally would have. “Yeah, that would be him. His name is Grant, by the way.”
“I know what his name is, I just prefer Coffee Bean Guy.” It was fitting, considering he was a barista at an espresso place. “Is it serious with him?”
The question came out before he could stop it, but he had to know, because the thought of some other man completely and totally replacing him in Serena’s life made Dylan more than a little insane. Why he hadn’t realized that before now was beyond him. That her getting everything she wanted, a man with whom she could have everything she desired, meant he would lose the bond he had with her.
Her chin lifted, and her eyes sparked with stubborn defiance. “It’s serious enough. Not that it should make any difference to you.”
But it did make a difference. More than it should and in ways he didn’t even know how to express because he wasn’t a guy who’d ever used those flowery, emotional words that females always seemed to want and need to hear. But this conversation, and Serena’s insinuation that things were perfectly awesome and amazing with Grant, was chafing him raw. It was also stirring up some major possessiveness that was provoking him to do stupid shit.
Like ask this next question . . . “Have you had sex with him yet?”
She sucked in an affronted breath, which was ridiculous because she never used to have an issue discussing those things with him. “That’s none of your business.”
That certainly wasn’t a yes, and her big, round, blue eyes told him that she was getting ready to fib if she needed to. He took a slow, purposeful step toward her, and instead of annoyance or anger, he saw her eyes flare with desire, which clearly wasn’t for Coffee Bean Guy because he was nowhere in sight.
“Have you had sex with him yet?” Dylan asked, softer now, but no less challenging as he took the final step that put him toe-to-toe with her.
She tipped her head back to look up at him. “It’s none of your business,” she reiterated, her voice wavering, while her gaze shimmered with an arousing heat that provided him with the truth that he sought.
He smiled triumphantly. “You haven’t slept with him yet.”
She didn’t back off or admit defeat. “How do you know that?”
He let his gaze drift down, taking in the hard nipples poking against her T-shirt . . . the pulse beating wildly at the base of her throat . . . her flushed face . . . and those eyes that were like a window into her soul and told him everything he needed to know.
It also made his answer to her question incredibly easy to deliver. “Because if you were sleeping with Grant, you wouldn’t be looking at me like you want me to fuck you again.”
She scoffed and jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “You are so full of yourself, Dylan.”
He arched a brow. “Am I? Really?” Before she realized his intent, he caught her face in his hands, holding her tight enough that she couldn’t escape what was about to happen. “Then fucking prove it, Serena.” Resist this, he thought as his mouth came down on hers. Resist me. And if she could do that, then he’d believe she truly didn’t want him.
She gasped against his lips and her hands shot up, flattening defensively against his chest. As his fingers tightened on her jaw and his tongue swept demandingly inside her mouth, he braced himself for her to push him away. He felt a moment of pressure as the heels of her hands dug into his muscles, then seconds later, her fingers fisted in his T-shirt instead. She pulled him closer and moaned in pleasure, her entire body softening against his—right where she fucking belonged.
The kiss was hot, deep, and intense. Demanding and combustive, and Serena mewled seductively against his lips and arched into him, rubbing her pelvis against the thick length of his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. Her uninhibited, greedy response gave him all the proof he required to know that she was his. Nobody else’s, and God, he wanted it to stay that way forever.
He dropped one hand to the waistband of her sweats and tugged the tie loose enough that he could slide his hand inside her panties and between her legs, where she was already slick with desire. She shamelessly rocked against his fingers while he skimmed his lips along her jaw, then trailed them down the side of her neck with a light scrape of his teeth and puffs of hot, damp breath against her skin that made her shiver and another rush of moisture coat his hand.
He moved his mouth up to the shell of her ear as he glided his fingers against her swollen, needy clit. “Tell me, Serena,” he rasped in a heated breath. “When he kisses you, do you get all hot and wet like you do for me?”
Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, and her hips arched against his hand. Closing her eyes, she shook her head as if she didn’t want to answer his question or face the truth. “Dylan . . .”
He pushed two long fingers deep into her pussy, all the way to the second knuckle, making her cry out as he pumped them in and out, filling her, stretching her, and stroking those inner walls where she was the most sensitive. “Answer. Me.” Each word came out as a gruff demand.
She shook her head, her breathing quickening, her body trembling as he kept her right on the edge, despite her trying to ride his hand to release. “No,” she moaned desperately.
He wasn’t letting her off that easily. “No, what?” he growled, wanting to hear her say the words out loud. “Look at me when you answer.” Because it was equally important for her to meet his gaze when she admitted the truth.
Her lids fluttered open, and her hands came up to cradle his face with excruciating gentleness as she stared into his eyes, baring herself to him. “No, Dylan. He doesn’t make me hot and wet like you do. Nobody ever has. Not like this.”
Her confession unlocked something inside of him. Something wild and untamed and beyond his control or comprehension. He grabbed the back of her neck with his free hand and claimed her mouth once again with his own, sliding his tongue as deep as his fingers thrusting between her thighs. His thumb worked her clit, giving her the pressure and friction she needed to send her soaring. Burying her face against his neck and hanging on to him for dear life, she cried out as her orgasm pulsed through her and had his dick throbbing for its own release.
A minute or so later, when he knew she had her bearings back and could think clearly, he withdrew his fingers and reached for the hem of her T-shirt, yanking it up and off her in one smooth move.
“Too many fucking clothes,” he muttered, and she must have agreed because she eagerly helped him out of his, too, until they were both standing in her living room naked.
She pressed her warm, lush body against his and reached between them to stroke his cock, nice and tight and slow as she placed soft kisses on his jaw, his neck, her tongue darting out to t
aste his salty skin. Pre-cum was already seeping from the tip, and considering how aroused he was, Dylan knew it would only take a few strokes of a hand job from her to make him come, and he wanted to be deep inside her when that happened.
And then he realized he didn’t have any protection with him, because there was no way he would have ever predicted that this evening would end with sex. “Oh, fuck,” he said beneath his breath, startling her enough that she moved her head back to look into his eyes. He squeezed his own shut, because he couldn’t think straight when she was sliding his dick through her fist.
“I don’t have a condom with me,” he said, his voice hoarse with disappointment.
“You don’t need one.” She pressed another light kiss to his jaw, gave his shaft another firm squeeze. “I’m on birth control, and I’m good if you are.”
He knew what she was saying, and he opened his eyes, held her gaze, and gave her the reassurance she deserved. “I’m clean.” He’d never had sex without a condom, and there had been no issues during his last physical and blood test.
“I trust you,” she said.
Those words . . . they meant everything to him. She meant everything to him. “Bedroom?” he suggested.
Her mouth tipped up in a playful smile that made his heart feel as though it flipped over in his chest. “No. How about right here,” she said, and pushed him backwards until his legs hit the edge of the couch and he had no other option but to sit.
She was gloriously, beautifully naked, and he drank in the soft, lush curves of her body as she reached up and pulled the pencil from her upswept hair. A low groan of approval rumbled in his chest as he watched in fascination as those silky strands tumbled down around her shoulders. She closed the distance between them, straddled his lap, and he held his cock upright as she slowly, seductively, lowered herself on him. He sank inside her, inch by decadent inch, until they were joined completely and he was buried to the hilt.