Dylan’s heart broke for her. Already mentally planned half her wedding? Had some asshole left her at the altar? She had a fearful look in her eyes, like a bird perched on a wire debating fight or flight. Refusing to let her stand on that wire alone, he put his hands firmly around her waist, and when she tried to put space between them, he tightened his hold. He tucked away the information that she’d been in love before and focused on what was most important.
“You’ve been hurt.” It wasn’t a question. He wanted her to know he understood. He heard her confession even though she probably didn’t realize she’d said it. As much as he wanted to know the details of what happened, he sensed she was nowhere near ready to go there.
“I’m not like you,” she said with renewed anger, which he attributed to further embarrassment for his reading between the lines. “I’d never put up with a guy hanging on to his phone like a security blanket or giving away the flowers I gave him.”
He cocked a brow. “You gave them away?”
“To my father,” she said sharply. “Don’t you see? You’re this crazy, wonderful mix of brawny, tool-belt-wearing, caring guy next door, and—”
“Guy upstairs,” he said to try to lighten the air.
She rolled her eyes, but at least he saw the hint of a smile. “See? You’re light and fun, and I can’t…I don’t even know how to be a regular girl anymore.”
“You’re right. There’s nothing regular about you, which is a good thing.” He tugged her in closer, feeling her heart beating frantically and aching inside because she’d obviously been trounced on by some asshole. “You’re all woman, Summers.”
“No, I’m not. I’m like a woman on steroids most of the time, and I don’t remember how to flirt or how to enjoy flowers or candy, or”—her tone softened, and a rose hue colored her cheeks—“how to respond to sexy notes left in a calendar, or promises of more than ten.”
There you are. Beneath the anger, beneath the fear, was the woman who he imagined would have looked him in the eyes and said she’d show him a ten, if he hadn’t had an apartment full of people.
“Summers, whoever hurt you didn’t break you. He made you stronger. Didn’t I promise you we’d figure out what type of woman you are together?”
“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes. “Another line.”
Her attitude was back in full swing, and he found that comforting. That’s who she was. Hot, sexy, full of alluring attitude. Or at least it was part of who she was, and he liked that part a lot.
“One day you’ll realize I don’t do lines. So you’re not a flower girl or someone who knows how to take a compliment that isn’t about your business prowess. You’re more complicated and intense than most people, and that makes you, you, Summers.” He smiled and pressed his lips to hers. She went rigid in his arms. He was pushing her with the kiss, but that was okay. She needed that, too, just like he needed to tell her exactly what was going through his mind, despite the anguish over his brother seeing her gorgeous, naked body and despite how hard she’d tried to push him away. Dylan only knew how to be the man he was, open, honest, and a talker.
“Only now you’re not Summers, either.” He paused to try to get his thoughts straight. “You’re all closed up like a tightly wound bud looking for the sun. Let me be your sun.”
“God, those lines.” She laughed and rolled her eyes again.
“Those truths,” he countered, earning a tentative smile, and just as quickly, her face grew serious.
“Dylan, you’re not hearing me.” She spoke slowly and clearly, as if that would help him to understand what he already knew. “I don’t know how to be the type of woman a man would want beyond…sex.”
“That’s your problem, Summers. You think you have to change, and you don’t. You think I’m judging you, or the world’s judging you, and maybe they are in your professional life, but I’m not judging you. I don’t have a predetermined idea of who you need to be. Hell, if I did, you’d break through those confines in about three seconds.”
“Right.” She gave him a deadpan stare. “So you weren’t thinking I was an ungrateful bitch when I didn’t fall at your feet after you left me such sweet gifts?”
He laughed. “No, because while you were realizing you’re not a flower girl or a chocolate girl, or whatever else, I was realizing I’m not the white knight I thought I was. I don’t think either of us needs to change who we are. Relationships don’t work because people change. They work because two people want to be together, and one’s strengths complements the other’s weaknesses. I like who you are. It’s pretty awesome not needing to fix or save you, and just being able to enjoy you. But soon all this great sex and intrigue will hit a wall. To go further, we have to get to know each other on a deeper level. If you want that, if you want me, you have to let me in.”
“So I do need to change,” she countered.
“No. You didn’t let me finish. I don’t want you to change. Work as much as you like. Answer that crazy-ass phone of yours every three seconds if you want to. All I want is to experience more of you. I want to figure out what you like and what you hate and what makes you blush and scream and roll those gorgeous green eyes of yours. And I want to see you in action at work and feel the rush of adrenaline I know you get when you’re putting deals together. I want to learn what you’re passionate about. And even though this makes me sound like a pansy, just realizing that I want to know those things is forcing me to learn more about myself, too.”
“Dylan.” Her eyes were full of emotion. Not lust or anger. Just a multitude of real, confusing, heartfelt emotions that nearly took Dylan to his knees.
“I always thought it was my job as a man to fix, and cater to, and figure out who women were. Basically, to overachieve as a boyfriend. But being with you is teaching me how wrong I was. I think we both need to let our guard down, so I would like to suggest a deal.” He smiled, and she laughed.
“First of all,” she said sternly. “I don’t need any man figuring out who I am. If I can’t figure it out, you sure as hell can’t.”
“Noted. Listen to my deal, please?”
“Does it have anything to do with being naked?” A tease sparked in her eyes.
“Only if you want it to. I was thinking more along the lines of helping each other figure out who we are. We can start tonight, after I kick everyone out of my apartment and you catch up on your million messages.”
“No way. You’re not going to kick everyone out because of me.”
“I hear talking is a good way to get to know each other.”
“Haven’t we talked enough? That’s a scary idea,” she said with an adorably shy smile.
“Because you think I have a hidden agenda, and I do.” He let that sink in for a moment. “I’m not ready for this to end, Summers. Are you?”
She looked at him for so long he feared he’d lost her, and then she reached for him and went up on her toes, answering with a slow, drugging kiss. When their lips parted, she smiled up at him with that lusty look in her eyes he adored.
“I don’t want it to end either,” she said softly. “I was just embarrassed and upset.”
“I know. But we need some time to get to know each other where we won’t end up in bed. Not that I don’t want to end up in bed, but I need you to know I want much more than hot sex with you, Summers. I’d suggest a date, but you’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t have time for that.”
She pressed her palm to the center of his chest and smiled up at him. “This guy I know once told me to make time. I’d like to try that.”
“Yeah?” He couldn’t suppress his grin.
“Yeah. Tomorrow night?” she asked hesitantly.
“Absolutely. Seven o’clock?”
She nodded. The worry in her eyes set off alarms in his head.
“Summers, you can bring your phone, and you can handle anything you need to. We’ll figure this out together.”
He leaned down to kiss her good night and she said, “I’l
l turn it off.”
“Hm?” His lips hovered over hers.
“The phone. When we’re on our date, I’ll turn it off.” She pressed her hand to the pocket of her jacket where her phone had finally gone silent. “For a little while, at least.”
“Baby steps,” he said, feeling like he’d won the lottery. “I’ll bring Xanax.”
Chapter Fourteen
“A MOTORCYCLE HELMET? Are you kidding?” Tiffany stared at the helmet like it was a ticking time bomb. It was Friday night and Dylan had texted her earlier in the day with a cryptic message about eating something at least an hour before their date and wearing comfortable clothes she wouldn’t mind getting sweaty in. That had spurred a laundry list of sexual innuendos, which she loved, but he’d refused to tell her where they were going.
“Don’t tell me the woman who goes to battle on a daily basis with hard-nosed negotiators and wins is afraid of motorcycles.” Using his forearms, he pulled her in tight, the helmets banging together in his hands behind her back as he kissed her neck.
She tipped her head back, enjoying the sensual attention he lavished on her and the feel of him getting hard as their bodies rubbed together. Something inside her shifted last night. She’d fought herself for so long, it was as much of a relief as it was scary to let her guard down, and she hoped she was right in thinking that Dylan would be worthy of her trust.
“I’m not afraid of motorcycles,” she insisted, and pulled her hair over her shoulder so he could kiss farther back on her neck. He laughed against her skin, sending chills down her arms. “I just didn’t know you drove one.”
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know.” He sank his teeth into her nape.
“Ouch! Dylan!” She laughed and he gave her a quick kiss on the lips.
“Come on, sexy girl.” He smacked her ass. “I love these yoga pants. You’re hotter than a whiskey skin cocktail.”
She’d worn black yoga pants and a black tank top beneath a zip-up hoodie, which felt strange, considering she usually only wore them when she was working alone in her apartment. Knowing Dylan liked them so much made her glad she had.
“I’ve never had a whiskey skin cocktail, but now I have to try one.” She lifted his hand off her ass. “I thought this was supposed to be a nonsexual date.”
“Oh, right. You bought that, huh?” The corners of his mouth lifted with the tease. “I’m kidding. Got your trusty phone in case the president of the United States needs some advice?”
She laughed, loving his sense of humor about her neurotic need to be tied to her phone. “Yes, but…” She patted her yoga pants. “No pockets.” She swung it in front of him, like a horse dangling a carrot. Only if she were him, she’d bat that phone across the apartment—and hope it shattered. “Would you be so kind as to carry my phone and key so I don’t have to bring a purse?”
“Babe, I’ll carry your phone, your key, and your sexy little body if you need me to.”
“You’re so…” Addicting. “Accommodating.” Their texts had been so flirty and fun, her pulse accelerated with the hope that Dylan was messaging every time her phone vibrated. She’d sent him an apology text this morning for overreacting last night, and he’d done what he always did. He made her feel better with teasing texts like—You’ve ruined my brother. He’ll never find a woman who measures up to you, and We need a secret knock. One knock means you’re naked. Two knocks means you’re naked. And three means, well, you’re naked. The next text had let her know exactly how hard he was trying to make her feel better—and how he really felt—I should have spanked your gorgeous ass so you’d never take a chance like that again. Flashing happens at my BEDROOM door only. Just the idea of him spanking her had made her wet.
She slid her phone into the front pocket of his jeans, removed her apartment key from her key ring, and handed it to him. He smirked and set down the helmets so he could hook the key onto his. When he lowered his mouth and brushed his lips over hers, she leaned forward, wanting more, but he was in complete control, holding a deeper kiss at bay.
“One day you’ll give me a copy of this key.” His breath whispered over her lips.
“Are you this overly confident with all your girlfriends?”
He picked up the helmets. “Are you saying you’re my girlfriend, Summers?”
“I…” Am I? Do I want to be? Geez, where did that come from? “No. It was just—”
“Wishful thinking?” He gave her a quick kiss as they left the apartment. “Well, wish no more. I haven’t been with anyone else since we met, and I don’t plan on it.”
She was surprised by how much she liked hearing his declaration and not at all surprised by the anxiety rising within her. “I didn’t mean…” But as she said it, she allowed herself one second to peek beyond her walls. One instant to think about what tomorrow might be like without Dylan. How she would feel if he was seeing other women. And in that moment, her anxiety rose for a whole different reason.
She cared.
As much as that frightened her, it was also reassuring, because that small part of her had wondered if she ever would again.
“Really?” didn’t slip from her lips. She pushed it out loud and clear, wanting to know the answer.
He draped an arm over her shoulder, and it felt good and unexpectedly familiar to be tucked against his hard body. She thought of the first time they’d had sex, and how good it had felt to be in his arms for those few seconds she’d allowed it afterward. She liked this intimacy. Dylan made her feel safe and special, and she didn’t want to hide behind a wall of bricks anymore.
He pushed the button for the elevator and stepped in front of her, bringing them face-to-face.
“Yes, really. What did you think? That I wanted to play around with you while I dabble in other women? I’m not that guy, Summers.”
The elevator came and they stepped inside, joining a group of people who were laughing and talking. Dylan pulled Tiffany possessively against him.
“I’m this guy,” he said in her ear. “The one who wants everyone to know you’re with me. Only me.”
The fluttering in her stomach caused by his territorial claim warred with the hard-earned pride of not being any man’s anything. But this time, the fluttering won.
A few minutes later, as they walked through the parking garage toward his motorcycle, he asked, “What kind of girl are you?”
“I’m not sure.” She knew what he was asking, but she didn’t know how to answer him. “I know that sounds like a cop-out after you asked me that the other night and I said the same thing, but I’m trying to be honest. I like you, Dylan. Actually, I like you a lot. I’ve just been on my own for so long, all of this feels new. This is the first real date I’ve been on in years.” She dropped her eyes, feeling like she’d just exposed way too much. “I’m weird, right? I mean, women in L.A. and New York City date all the time, but I never have. I’ve hooked up with guys, but that was my choice never to take it further. I’ve been all about work all the time since college.”
He stopped beside his bike and took her hand. “Weird? No. Fascinating? Yes. You’re a serial non-dater, and your first date in years is with a guy who has spent years looking for the right woman to serially date. I’d say we’re made for each other.”
He set his helmet on the bike and held hers up. “Now, let’s get you wrapped around me. I mean, on the bike.” He waggled his brows.
She eyed the motorcycle. “I’ve never been on one. Do you drive as smooth as you talk, or are you an erratic speed demon?”
“I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”
He kissed her again, and he must have felt her hesitation in the kiss, because he gathered her against him and took the kiss deeper. As she was pressed against his solid frame, his strong arms holding her steady, the blissful, glorious feeling of being devoured by Dylan consumed her. Just when she was sure her legs would give out, he tightened his hold and his tongue swept over hers in a slow, hypnotizing rhythm. And then his soft lips wer
e pressed against hers in a series of sweet, tantalizing kisses. His rough whiskers scratched her upper lip and cheek, and he kissed those tender spots, giving her exactly what she needed.
When he gazed into her eyes with a riveting look and said, “Your phone is going crazy in my pocket,” his words didn’t register. It was all she could do to cling to his arms.
His lips touched hers again. “Summers?”
“Hm?” Kiss me again.
He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out her phone. “Your vibrator.”
“My…?” Her eyes followed his to her phone. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve never met a man who could make me forget my phone.” She took the phone and scrolled through her messages. “You’re kind of terrifying.”
He laughed and put his hand firmly on the back of her neck, pulling her closer so he could kiss her again. “Why don’t you have an answering service?” he asked between mind-scrambling kisses.
She tried to focus on the response she was typing so she could finish it quickly and give him her attention. “I had one, and it caused twice as many calls. The service would call and then I’d have to call my clients.”
“And what happens if you don’t respond in, say, a few hours?”
Her fingers flew over the screen as she handled one message after another. “Um. I don’t know. But my clients pretty much expect me to be at their beck and call. A big part of my job is babysitting. You know, easing concerns, handling questions about media relations, placating…”
“Not really,” he mumbled. “So you never take a true vacation and disconnect?”
She shook her head.
“Do you ever want to?”
She lifted her eyes and lowered her phone, feeling guilty and also a bit forlorn, because she was doing what she’d told him she wouldn’t. And because he’d struck a nerve. Admitting to what he’d asked meant bringing down her walls even further, and that took as much effort as keeping them up. Maybe more. But she wanted to be honest with Dylan more than she wanted to keep hiding from the truth.
Bad Boys After Dark: Dylan (Bad Billionaires After Dark Book 2) Page 13