Dylan

by Brittany Dreams

  We’re doing some more in-depth tests and assessments on Lizzie. The seizures are still under control, which is great, but we still want to cover all bases.

  “Wow look over there, look who’s here. It’s like hot guy fest,” Tania says and points over to the furthest pool table.

  Yes, I see what she means immediately.

  Dylan has just entered the building and his four friends with him are indeed hot. All tall like him with the same badass style and attitude, but my attention is completely on him.

  It’s on the wide grin on his face as he talks it up with his blond friend.

  Tonight he wears full black. No leather tonight though. He’s just wearing a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up his thick forearms, and black slacks.

  He’s had his hair neatened and beard trimmed. He looks sharp. I have officially joined the stare-fest from the hospital.

  I have followed the sheep whether I wanted to or not, and I’m thinking of that kiss. I haven’t mentioned one thing about it to the girls, and I don’t plan to. Nor do I plan to mention the rendezvous in town the other night.

  It’s too bizarre for words. According to them and every female at Northwestern Memorial, I must hate Lieutenant Dylan Taylor to throw a mug at him.

  Never will they know how wrong they are, or how my body comes alive just thinking of him.

  I tear my gaze away and find Tania looking at me suspiciously.

  “You devil,” she coos. “I know you secretly like him. Look at you practically drooling. I might have to get a bucket.”

  “No…I’m not drooling.” I shake my head.

  Celine starts laughing. “I will say nothing to that. They all look super hot. It’s a given that if he’s that hot, his friends must be too. Seeing as he’s taken, I wonder if the rest are available.”

  “Taken?” I quirk a brow and they both look at me.

  Tania shakes her head. “Girl please, how old are we? You spend your days looking out for him, and I’ve never heard you describe anybody as an asshole hell spawn. Usually one negative will do.”

  “You guys—” I say, but she interrupts by raising a finger like she’s making some wild point.

  “Last time I checked somebody I know promised they would keep an open mind. That same someone told me she didn’t want to be in the same boat next year. I know a certain friend of hers would beat her senseless if she does nothing when a man like that is interested in her.” She makes a point of enunciating every syllable of what she says.

  I laugh at her exaggeration and look back to Dylan .

  He picks up a cue and looks at me at the same time. Our eyes lock and he stops mid-sentence in something he was saying to his friend.

  We’re probably about twenty feet away but I see that wild look come into his expression. He scans me from head to toe, looking me over in the white body con I’m wearing. I’m sitting down so he can’t actually see me properly, but I look a lot different to how I normally look.

  I do the polite thing and wave.

  He doesn’t wave back. What he does is hands his friend the cue stick and makes his way over, eyes on me the whole time.

  He only breaks eye contact when he approaches and looks to Tania and Celine.

  “Ladies.” He greets them in that cool casual manner he always exerts.

  They say hi then he shocks me by taking my drink and setting it down on the table.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him, narrowing my gaze.

  “You girls won’t mind if I steal your friend for the evening would you?” he asks, shocking me further.

  My jaw drops. “What?”

  He ignores me and continues focusing on Tania and Celine.

  “Take her, pretty please,” Tania answers, waving her hand.

  “You are more than welcome to her,” Celine adds.

  “Wonderful,” Dylan tells them, and takes my hand.

  I don’t know what part of the twilight zone I just stepped in but I find myself mindlessly getting up. I stand and follow him, walking steadily in my heels.

  He waits until we get to the other side of the bar near the stairs for the dance floor before he stops and looks me over.

  “You’re crazy, you know that?” I tell him.

  “And you are hot as fuck,” he compliments, giving me a wide, sexy grin to match the desire-filled look in his eyes.

  I chuckle because I’ve never been told that before and no way would I believe that he would be the first guy to tell me that. Or make an exaggerated show of running his fingers over the flat of my stomach and walking around me to thoroughly inspect me.

  He is definitely overconfident. And sexy. He owns it in every way, and like some puppet on a string I am mindless and unable to resist him.

  “We’re on a date as of two minutes ago,” he declares.

  “We are? I don’t remember seeing you around for the last three days for you to have asked me out, so how are we on a date?”

  “Sounds like this chick needs my number so she can check on me, or maybe I should have hers…but then I gathered that she knows where I live. She could have made up some excuse to see me. Could have even brought my dear uncle a classy pen. What happened?” He gives me a dazzling smile.

  I can’t believe I’m actually laughing.

  “I don’t know,” I manage.

  He raises his hand, lowers halfway to my lips, and crooks his finger, beckoning me to come to him.

  “Come on, you know you want to.”

  Since I do, I go.

  I’m still short in my heels so I stand on the tips of my toes and meet him the rest of the way.

  This time when we kiss it feels more playful. It feels more like we’ve always done this. Like this is us and how we are, how we’ve always been.

  When his lips are on mine it’s hard to imagine us any other way. It’s hard to imagine feeling any other way because what I feel now is that spark of insane chemistry I’ve been trying my best to keep away. Far, far away.

  I don’t want to anymore.

  He cups my face and slows the kiss that was on the brink of taking me over the edge.

  “Let’s dance,” he says against my lips.

  “Yes.”

  Abby

  It really feels like we’re on a date.

  We dance for hours and then when my feet feel like they are going to fall off we go over to one of the booths, where we sit and talk. We talk, not about the things we’ve already talked about, but everything else.

  I feel like everything that happened previously is some figment of my imagination.

  Like it never happened and I wasn’t like that.

  “How can you not like ketchup?” He gives me the same incredulous glare I get from people when I disclose my intense dislike for ketchup and all sauces.

  “I just don’t. I don’t like any sauce. But I loathe ketchup the most. It’s not actually that uncommon for a doctor to hate ketchup.” I giggle.

  “Oh please, don’t tell me it reminds you of blood.”

  “It does. Also, I really hated all the years prior to this when we had to work on cadavers.” I did what I had to for my studies. Hated that part but truly enjoyed the rest.

  Neurology practically has my name on it. I’m always calling Mac and Chad Sherlock and Watson, but I’m included in the analogy just as much as them because I love the aspect of investigating.

  “Woman, I’ve seen more blood than I’ve cared for in my time as a marine, and I can’t live without ketchup and every kind of sauce.” He laughs. “What I hated was being out in the desert where I had to catch my food.”

  I narrow my eyes. “What did you catch?”

  “Lizards. Used their entrails for dip.” He chuckles and started laughing when he sees my face wrinkle with disgust.

  “You can’t gussie up lizard entrails and make dip!” I feel like heaving.

  He points at me and looks me over with curiosity. “I like that.”

  “What?”

  “Yo
u have a slight southern twang. It comes out when you’re relaxed. And you say stuff like gussie up. Where’re you from Miss Thing?”

  He leans against my shoulder and presses into me.

  “St. Louis.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah. I came to Chicago nine years ago and my twang just kind of blended out.”

  I haven’t said anything much but he looks at me fascinated.

  “I like it.”

  “What?”

  “All of it,” he says, and stands. “Want to go somewhere with me?”

  “Somewhere?”

  “Somewhere.”

  It sounds like an adventure. One I won’t be saying no to.

  The first thing that surprises me is we leave the sports bar and step right into his midnight-black Ferrari. As far as I know, he rides a motorcycle. And a couple of weeks ago he took me home in Mac’s station wagon.

  It seems like he’s been busy over the last few days.

  When we pull up on the drive of a two-story lake house on the other side of town, I am so taken by the beauty of the place that it blows me away.

  Motion sensor lights come on as we walk up to the door. It illuminates the surroundings of the house like spotlights casting a glow on the main attraction. It’s beautiful against the lights and the mingle of the moon. I can just imagine what it must look like in the day.

  I look at him and smile.

  “Dylan, this place is amazing!” I gasp. “Who lives here?”

  He looks to the house, takes a moment, then returns his gaze to me.

  “Me…maybe.”

  “You? What? How?”

  “Well if I stay in Chicago I may buy the place.”

  “What do you mean if you stay? Won’t you come back here when you go back to the Marines?”

  He smiles. “I love your positivity. That…may not happen if my leg doesn’t heal up the way it should.”

  I’ve never asked too much about his injuries. It doesn’t seem like my place to pry.

  “Does it look like it won’t?”

  “I don’t know. I hope it does, but if it doesn’t I don’t know if I’ll stay here. I may travel.”

  I move closer to him as the pull of desire reels me in. “So I should be glad for whatever time I have with you.”

  “Five and a half months.”

  “Oh.”

  “I decide then, depending on what happens.”

  “And leaving is the answer if your leg doesn’t heal?”

  “Maybe…it’s just one of those things. Want to try and convince me to stay?” he asks.

  I don’t know what this man has done to me but I find myself speaking my mind.

  “I want to try…” I answer, and it feels like I’m saying that for more. Like that’s my heart speaking, yearning for something hopeful, different than the darkness that’s surrounded me for the last three years.

  “Then you have to come inside with me.” He gives me a lazy grin.

  “Inside?”

  “Uh huh.”

  He stretches out his hand to me and I don’t hesitate to take it.

  If he wants me to follow him to the moon, at this point I’ll go.

  My hand in his feels like it’s meant to be there, and I don’t allow fear to seep into my mind.

  He smiles, tugs on my hand, and leads me into the house where I encounter more gorgeousness.

  It looks partly furnished and definitely classy. We look around the ground floor to two large halls and he takes me to the sitting room that leads out to the back garden. It looks similar to Mac’s place with the floor-to-ceiling glass sliding doors, but this is definitely something else. It leads out to a pool and then continues on to a boardwalk. What takes my breath away is the sailboat out in the distance that appears to belong to the house.

  Dylan sees my reaction and chuckles.

  “That over there is another reason for my contemplation.” He points to the boat.

  “It’s a beauty!”

  “You like sailing?”

  Tears sting the backs of my eyes as I nod. “I love it.”

  “I’ll make a mental note of that. The place comes with the boat. Perfect for the adventurous marine. The owners want to stop leasing the place because of the hassle of trying to find people who will take the boat and not sell it. It’s a family heirloom.”

  I laugh. “That’s real original but I can see why it’s so special. That looks to me like a Nauticat Motorsailer…those don’t come cheap or easy. You want to keep a boat like that, or give it to someone who appreciates it.”

  “Wow, she’s not just smart and beautiful, she knows her boats too.”

  “I do.” I giggle.

  “Okay good doctor, your attempts to convince me are in motion. Anything else you want to do?”

  I miss his lips so I move back to him and kiss him.

  I tease with one quick kiss and then another until he smoothes his hands up my cheek and runs his fingers through my hair to keep me there. There at the delicious fountain of desire and sexy kisses that instantly wipes my brain clean.

  I’m very aware that we’re all alone, in his potential place. We didn’t come here to look around and I never agreed to leave the bar just to hang out. I’ve allowed my body to take over my mind, and my inner desires to guide me.

  Guide me and give me what I need.

  I’ve opened my mind and I think whatever I’m doing is working.

  I think whatever I’m doing is helping me find myself.

  My skin buzzes with fire the more he kisses me, and I know as he moves with me to the wall and backs me against it that we definitely won’t just be kissing tonight.

  I want more and he kisses me with the kind of fire that tells me he wants more too.

  When his lips move from my mouth and trace a line of fire across to my ear, pleasure races through me.

  “I want you Abby.” His voice is deep and low, the effect of the sexiness in it traveling all the way down to my core, making desire pool deep and low in my groin.

  “Take me…” I whisper, and I mean it.

  “With absolute pleasure Miss Thing,” he answers, and with a nip to the lobe of my ear his kisses travel down the length of my neck.

  His hands smooth over my breasts as he fills his palms and squeeze.

  It makes me go wild from the burst of arousal. I suck in a sharp breath.

  He pulls the zipper on the side of my dress and watches the fabric fold.

  The dress has a built-in bra, so I’m not wearing one. He gives me a look of pure satisfaction when my breasts spill out and bobble away from the silky fabric.

  Moving invitingly toward him like my whole body is pleading for his touch. It is. I am.

  So I completely crumble when he moves to my left breast, licks over my diamond-hard nipple, then closes his mouth over it to suck.

  I press into the wall and savor the feel of his mouth on my breast. It feels amazing.

  He sees I really like that and stays there, placing his hand against the flat of my stomach and sucking harder, sucking like he’s tasting me.

  I moan into his wild suckle and I feel the first tug of a wild orgasm when he moves to suck my right breast. He gives me the same attention and mindless moans of pleasure and raw ecstasy fall from my lips. Falling like little pieces of the pleasure I feel coursing through me.

  I feel damn near the edge already and I know this man won’t just take me there. He means to push me over from the way that he touches me.

  I wouldn’t expect him to do anything less.

  I also get the feeling from the spark in his eyes that he knows I’m near climax, and just like always, he has me exactly where he wants me.

  There, and unresisting, yielding to whatever he wants to do to me.

  “You are perfect,” he says, looking me over. In the subtle light his eyes darken with molten heat. “Clothes off, heels stay on.”

  I smile down at him and we watch the dress pool at my feet. I step out of it and he t
akes sexy to another level when he moves to my panties and bites on the edge with his teeth. And with his teeth he takes them off.

  The sight of him doing that makes me want to come. I watch him, a man like him doing this to me.

  The wild, sexy marine all the women swoon over at the hospital when they see him.

  He’s mine tonight.

  Lieutenant Dylan Taylor is all mine tonight and damn am I ever going to enjoy him.

  I am not going to allow anything to spoil whatever wild adventure he’s about to take me on.

  No way.

  I step out of the panties as he pulls them and I giggle when he stuffs them in his pocket.

  My lips part. I even forget that except for my heels I’m completely naked before him.

  “You’re not getting those back.”

  I go to answer him but he takes hold of my legs and nuzzles his face between my thighs, pressing up into my core so he can lick over the hard nub of my clit.

  The pleasure I previously felt only heightens and builds, rising then coursing, cruising so it can fill every cell of my body with it.

  He licks and sucks and tastes and teases. I arch my back and cry out into the wave of the scandalous orgasm that claims me when I come.

  I come and I come and I come, and it feels like it’s a continuous ripple of never-ending satisfaction that I’ve been starved of for so long.

  I’ve been starved and deprived of this feeling and I relish the thrill that races through me with each wave.

  “Dylan…” I moan and he licks harder, pressing his clever tongue right up into my core so he can take every last drop of nectar that flows from me.

  He moves back, smiling, but I can barely breathe. He kisses me and tasting myself on his lips arouses me further.

  When I tug on his shirt he moves back to take it off and I lean back against the wall and watch him unveil that masterpiece body of his.

  He smiles wider as he undoes his belt buckle and unzips his fly.

  I see a peak of his Calvin Klein boxers but I’m far more interested in seeing where his happy trail runs when he drags down his pants and boxers at the same time, releasing his massive cock from the prison of his pants.