“I know.” I swallow, my eyes closing of their own accord. I can’t hear the end of that sentence, it’s the only thing I do know.
What happened to my father, what he did to himself. I didn’t know all the other things. I thought it was almost simple—that he couldn’t take the burden anymore, and, in some light, he was a match and could make the donation because of that. Not… all this.
“Forbes,” Dylan takes my hand in his. A sharp inhale traps the moisture in my throat, and I turn to face him.
The depth of his gaze pierces mine, and from the inside out, I tune to him, attached to him in a way that doesn’t make sense but is true just the same.
“Your father knew you wouldn’t last much longer on your own without a transplant since your treatment wasn’t helping. And he was right, you had gotten worse. It wasn’t a liver or kidney. A heart transplant requires one dead person, and it’s that much harder to get one. You know that. I don’t know all the specifics. But that day, he asked me not to tell you anything even if I knew you at the time or not. Anything about him losing his job, the life insurance, everything… I promised him, and at the time I didn’t know why. And honestly, I didn’t care either because it hadn’t registered with me, nothing had. My dad has just died, and I didn’t care about anything. So, I did what he asked. No severance package, and no unemployment, and that made his life insurance go up. But to anyone who might investigate, they would see a disgruntled employee with a sick kid who couldn’t take it anymore, not withholding the life insurance from you after he passed. His plan worked. He loved you that much, and the letter he left you must have been taken out of context even though I promised I wouldn’t tell you. I love you too much not to.”
“You’re insane.” I heard it all, I truly did. And I digested it fast enough to hear him say he loves me, and now that’s all I can hear.
My father doesn’t surprise me. He has always been grossly loyal and formidable doing whatever it takes. He wanted me to get better, and so he… it doesn’t surprise me.
Dylan, though. I am surprised.
“Yes. Or a masochist since I enjoy your attitude so very much.”
The gray of his eyes gleam, and I fight the urge to smile.
“Dylan I… I’m not even sure if I have the capacity to feel that. But I want to, somehow. I just have so much going on right now.”
He hunches over as he nods, his hand holding mine slides away to my knee.
“I thought this was it.”
“Mostly. I mean a lot to process, and then the whole thing with my medical bills piling up. There wasn’t enough to cover it, so I have to figure that out for myself.”
“So, you won’t love me until you can pay your medical bills?”
“It’s a lot of money.”
“I’ll give it to you.”
“Are you trying to help your case?” I laugh once.
His lips curl inward. “If it works.”
I laugh this time leaning back for fresh air as I comb my fingers through my hair. I moisten my lips and stare back at Dylan who hasn’t budged and is pinning me to this spot with his presence alone.
“It’s two hundred thousand dollars. I’m sure that’s not even expensive to you, but I would never ask you for it, and it won’t make me believe you any more or less. How you managed to fall in love with me is revolutionary, but even more so that I want to love you, too. But there might be too much blood in the water. We are not normal people, Dylan.”
“I don’t want to be. Not with you, not without you. Forget about the money, Forbes. Wipe everything else clean, what’s keeping you from me?”
My lips part in the wake of trying to find something appropriate to say, but I don’t get to, not before his lips are on mine again.
This time it’s crippling because that fire and passion under his kisses are explainable to me now—he loves me.
He is in love with me, and he kisses me like he is.
I kiss him back, the same way.
Because now I know there truly is a thin line between love and hate.
What he did—what I thought he had done made me hate him, and now it’s why he did it that makes me love him.
We manage to pull ourselves apart, and he swiftly sneaks me down the hall above his family to his bedroom. His childhood bedroom that I don’t have much time to appreciate—plain wood four-poster bed and matching desk and chest of drawers and black rug—before his lips are on mine again in a blind fury.
He all but tears my jersey off, not that I liked it much anyway. I slide my hands up his sweater to the warmth of his body as his tongue slides over mine dancing between the lines of my mouth as he leans me against the wall. I strip off his sweater, his warmth and the tickle of his chest hair rub over me as his body flushes tightly to mine.
The expert grip and callous of his hands trace the planes of my stomach and breasts before he moves down and tugs my jeans and panties away at the same time. I fumble between taking his pants off, him kissing me, and tugging off my bra. His hands cup the swell of my breasts, his fingers pinching the round of my nipples.
I moan into his mouth as he breaks away, my breath falls heavily as his lips trace down my jaw, my neck, and collarbone down to the valley of my breasts. His wet kisses cover both my breasts as he moves down, his lips making a trail right for my aching sex. I clench hard, practically gushing for him when his fingers swipe my angry, pulsing flesh.
“Dylan,” I gargle a moan when his lips connect with me, his breath hot with pressure over my clit.
The throb travels through my entire body as his lips close over me, his tongue dives in to taste me and work my clit into an endless throbbing frenzy. My fingers clench in the depth of his hair, having grown longer since I last saw him. I can barely remain standing against the wall, his hand closes over my thigh, hitching it over his shoulder to hold myself open to him as he continues. My toes curl, my leg on the ground rising to grind against him.
He growls into me, and the rumble of his vibration is the last thing to steer me over the edge morphing into a soul-fetching orgasm that’s incomparable, and nothing like how it was on my own these past few weeks or even the first few times with him.
“Dylan.” I breathe before I slump onto the ground. He sweeps me up, my legs wrapped around his waist as he carries me to his bed.
He collapses on top of me, his lips commanding mine again, mingling his taste with mine as his tongue swipes over me. I wrap my hand around the girth of his cock, the warmth and size sorely missed. My hand slides up to the pulse and moisture of his tip. His growl floods into my mouth before he breaks the kiss, breathing heavily over me as his eyes stare me down.
“I was a good guy in high school. I don’t have condoms in here.”
I smile. “That makes you a good guy?” I tighten my grip and his breathing stalls.
“Yes.” He kisses me. I rise to meet him and my other hand circles around his neck.
“It’s fine.” I exhale when he releases me. It’s the twenty-first century, the pill is a euphemism for daily vitamins.
“Good.”
His kiss is searing, scalding as he tears me open and climbs inside of me.
He hitches my thighs over his shoulders as he slides into me, our skin without any barriers. I feel all of him as he presses deep inside of me.
It’s been too long. It feels like a lifetime since I last had him—a lifetime before everything was revealed tonight. And it feels good, deliciously and unfairly good.
This is my weakness, the streak inside me that can disarm me at any minute.
Dylan is buried inside me to the hilt, my body conforming outside of him, around him. I wrap my arms around his neck and bring his body closer to mine as he thrusts inside me, our kiss breaking for air, our lips still touching as our hips grind against each other.
My nails rake down his back clawing for a release from the pleasure, ripping inside of me and building up, and threatening a great explosion.
“You’re mine n
ow, Forbes. All mine.” His voice is guttural and deep matching the hard, even thrusts of his cock inside me.
“I thought I owned you.” I exhale, breathless.
“It’s a mutual partnership.”
I giggle, but it’s cut short by his hand rubbing my clit, his thumb focusing on the control of my body right now. As he ministers to me there, his cock drives deep inside me and knocks on the depths of my soul, and I let him.
The surrender, it feels good.
Falling in love with Dylan was a reckless tumble, unsure, unguided, but somehow, I got to this destination, and I don’t remember how. I don’t care how.
My whispers beg for more and more coaxing him along to continue. Our breaths catch together in heightened falls toward the end.
Crumbling around him, I stumble into something so fantastic it’s absurd. But I still do it, twice before he lets himself go and empties himself inside of me—hot and thick and unbridled by any barriers.
“I love you, Forbes, so fucking much.” He kisses me hard, possibly afraid of me not reciprocating that, but he is wrong.
I tug him away by the length of his hair where my fingers stay buried.
“Dylan.” His cock slides out of me, and I bite my lip, my eyes fluttering in distraction from the emptiness. “I love you, too.”
His face softens, the lines of his jaw going unhinged, in shock, before he relaxes again. I roll us over with a trepid smile.
“I’m trying very hard not to roll my eyes.” I smile down at him. He shakes his head and cups my face running his fingers back into my hair. I sigh at the massage of his fingers and relax down to straddle his waist.
“I know.” He chuckles in his chest, his lips twitch with a smile, but it doesn’t come through. I lose my smile at thinking of how sad he still is, wondering if I might ever be able to change that. My fingers trail through his beard, his eyes close, and I move to lay down next to him.
His arms hold me close around my waist, my head lays on the rhythm of his beating heart, everything else fading away.
“You could sue me you know, for the money,” he says after a while.
“What?” I laugh.
“I mean it, for emotional distress, irreparable damages, or something. Then you won’t feel like I’m just giving you the money.”
I scoff and lean up to look at him. “That’s ridiculous. I can’t take any money from you, Dylan. I don’t want to.” I understand the perks that may be behind this relationship with him. Emily has told me enough, but I don’t think I’m ready to indulge in that yet.
“Forbes.” He makes me look at him. “I’ll never want to make you feel cheap or whatever it is that women use as an excuse, but it won’t stop me from offering and meaning it. I want to help you… fiscally, personally, I don’t care which.” His eyes are serious. I stare back at him silent for a moment.
“Thank you for saying that. But I’m tabling this conversation.” I kiss him with a smile before he can stop me, and he kisses me back.
I don’t want to complicate things yet. Dylan and I aren’t like other people, neither will our relationship be.
While I know that he’s a billionaire with a lot of power, it isn’t what I love. It’s his character, his heart, his soul.
I love that, and for some reason, he loves me too.
That’s the biggest plot twist of all, the two of us being together.
And along the way, we can help each other be a little less broken.
Epilogue
Dylan
I’ve spent an entire month away from the thing that saved me for years indulging in what is saving me right now.
Forbes.
The woman is as mean as she is warm and kind and loving in her own weird way. A way that I have grown accustomed to, used to. I can’t go a day without it, and I haven’t for at least a month now.
We spent the rest of February alone at one of my family’s cabins in the countryside. Convincing her to go wasn’t as hard as I imagined, but we both knew we needed the break—from life, from ourselves. I’ve been all about work for as long as I can remember, and before that, it was all about school, and Forbes was the same way. Her whole life was spent being sick, in school and then in hospitals, losing her dad and getting lost along the way. We both needed to escape.
Though it was me who took longer to conform to that always checking my email and working. Forbes slowly pulled me away from that and then it was just us.
Waking up to make breakfast and then go back to sleep, having lunch and then dinner, somewhere in there leaving the cabin on occasion. I thought it was nice to run away together, but we did tell people before we left.
What’s even better is how much I got to know about her and tell her about myself. I talked about my dad for the first time since he died. It was painful and liberating at the same time. I told her about the whole beard thing too explaining it helped me look in the mirror easier. Family photos confirmed that, and together we agreed I might get rid of it at some point, though I know she likes it for certain things.
If I knew she would be the one to fix me, I would have sought after her a long time ago, and somehow, I help her too. We help each other heal.
He would have loved her—my dad. The way he used to talk about Mom in the beginning reminds me of Forbes, and I wish he could have met her. I wish for a lot of things, but now I only wish for good things, attainable things with Forbes.
Sometimes it feels like we fell in love backward, but every day makes our love stronger and not just in our own little world. When we returned back to the city, we got our brownstone together downtown and assimilated back into normal life, and it was still the same. Still good.
Even when I went behind her back and settled her debts. Of course, she was incredibly angry, but if I didn’t practice my doting billionaire boyfriend duties at some point, I’d lose my streak. I promised her it would be the last time I ever go behind her back, and a few days of the cold shoulder was enough. We pulled through. She missed me too much.
But Forbes wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t say at least one sassy thing to me a day, so I’m okay with that.
We live comfortably together. It hasn’t been long, but it feels like a fast lifetime stretching out between the two of us.
Somewhere in there, she met my family officially, but I didn’t even worry about that too much. They love her, my brothers are always happy to see me happy after they finish their jokes and jabs. And my mom, she’s ecstatic. Maybe she didn’t lose hope for me, but she was close to it, and now she won’t.
When things all fall into place, it seems too good to be true, but every night I go to sleep next to her, every morning I wake up in the same place, and I stop questioning it.
* * *
Easter
“Do people really believe in the Easter bunny? Or is that just a myth?”
“Well, I think there is one coming today, so I hope someone does. Probably the little tots.”
“Oh wow. I should have known. Your family would be serious about this holiday.” Forbes half laughs, her signature ‘it’s a joke, but I don’t find it funny’ noise.
“We are. It’s the only day we’re Christians besides Christmas.” I chuckle and tuck her into my side. We’re riding back to the house from church in the middle of the Suburban truck, our chosen transport when the whole family is involved. Fletcher is seated up front with the driver, and Jeffrey is in the back, the only one short enough for that third row.
“Well, at least you don’t pretend.” Forbes sighs, her head falling onto my shoulder.
The gold of her locks still mesmerizes me, the sweet scent of them too. Her cream yellow dress is molded to her body, still modest for church though. The ride was short, only an hour. It’s probably why my dad hadn’t seen Mom being Catholic as a deal breaker. He only had to commit to one hour a week.
We arrive at the residence and pile out at the same time flooding the house and going back through to the backyard garden where everything h
as been set up for lunch.
“It looks like…”
“Armageddon.” My lips go to Forbes’ ear beside her cheek where I kiss her.
She smiles, and then we walk off to one of the outdoor couches. We watch the green and pink balloon arch beside the kids’ play area where they eagerly crawl and stumble around the lush green carpeting. Brant and Alec are watching them with their mothers. We spot everyone else around the table set up under the balcony with food and drinks.
“We could sneak off,” I whisper in Forbes’ ear.
She giggles and looks up at me, her dark-lined eyes narrowing at me. “No. It’s Sunday.”
I laugh. “You don’t believe in that.” I smirk down at her finding it easier to smile with her these past few weeks.
“Maybe not. But we can’t just leave. Everyone is here.” Her peachy lips purse at me before she smiles.
I roll my eyes at her and nod.
“I’ll get drinks.” She pats my leg before she hops up, her white heels stomping the concrete, ass tight in her dress. I lick my lips and watch her go. My body is so in tune with her by now, I find it hard to ignore the urge to be pressed up against her all the time. I’m positive that feeling may never go away.
She returns with mixed drinks for us both. The family spends long enough outside for the kids to ruin their white Easter clothes and dinner to be served in the dining room inside. Holden has a chef set up at his place, so he uses the same company for these kinds of things so Mom doesn’t have to worry about it.
Over dinner, Forbes carries on conversations with everyone, fitting in perfectly, and I no longer feel the need to remove myself from it anymore. Feeling like a different person isn’t even accurate, maybe like a better person. Forbes did that with her strength and honesty, her intelligence and poise and beauty.
Wilde About Dylon: The Brothers Wilde Series — Book Four Page 18