Bad Boys After Dark: Dylan (Bad Billionaires After Dark Book 2)
Page 22
Brett shook his head. “Better you than me.”
“She’s afraid of you.” Carson glared at Brett.
“Afraid of falling for me, maybe,” Brett quipped.
“Wait, you guys know Tatiana Grace, the pop star?” Amanda asked.
“She’s one of our clients,” Carson explained. “I’ll see what I can do. I can introduce you if you’d like, Amanda.”
Her jaw gaped. “That’s so nice of you, but I’d totally fangirl the poor woman and end up looking like a fool.”
“You could never look like a fool,” Mick said. Then to Carson, “Set it up, please.” When he turned to his new wife and promised to ensure she didn’t make a fool of herself, the love in his brother’s eyes was palpable.
“I know it doesn’t have anything to do with islands,” Tiffany said. “But I’m sure my clients would be happy to donate autographed sports memorabilia to support the cause. And now that we’re talking specifics, I hope you don’t mind me suggesting this, but what about having placards made up with Lorelei’s pictures, and maybe some of the kids you’ve visited over the years, Dylan? I hate to say it, but people are more likely to donate when they put a face with the cause. I don’t mean to sound like you’re playing off their illnesses, but if you really want to gain donations, I think it would mean more if people knew there were real children, real lives, behind it.”
Silence fell over the group, but Dylan’s heart filled to near bursting. It couldn’t have been easy for her to put the idea out there when she knew it was a sore spot with his family.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Dylan said.
“I agree,” Brett said gruffly.
Everyone looked at him, and he shrugged. “She’s got a point. If we’re going to see Lorelei as the face of the fundraiser, then why limit it just to her?”
“Carson?” Dylan asked. Carson nodded. “Mick?”
“I think it’s brilliant,” Mick answered. “As much as I hate to equate faces to dollars, the personalization is important. Tiffany knows that better than any of us.”
Relief swept through Dylan. “Then we’re all on board. I’ll speak to the director at the Ronald McDonald House and some of the parents of the kids I’ve visited, and I’ll go see Mom this weekend and pick out some pictures of Lorelei.” He turned to Tiffany. “Will you go with me? I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”
“Of course.” She held his gaze and a silent message recognizing the significance of the invitation passed between them. “I’d love to meet your mom.”
“You’ll love their mom,” Amanda said. “Jackie’s wonderful. She has treated me like a daughter from the very second I met her.”
“I look forward to it,” Tiffany said.
“We’ll get Jackson and Cooper to handle the photography, of course.” He felt Tiffany shrink back in her chair and remembered that they had been at the poker game and witnessed her botched booty call. He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to them. They’re professionals. It won’t be awkward.”
She exhaled loudly and flashed a brave smile toward Brett and Carson. “I think I need to own up to that whole embarrassing event. I should have taken care of it right away. I’ll clear the air with Jackson and Cooper next week. What’s a little embarrassment between friends? Honestly, the thought of trying to find photographers who are as good as them is daunting.”
“That’s the fearless girl I fell for.” He leaned in for a kiss.
“What embarrassing event are we talking about?” Mick asked.
Tiffany blushed, but she held her chin up and faced Mick and Amanda with the confidence Dylan adored. “I crashed their poker game wearing nothing but a jacket and heels.”
Mick smiled and exchanged a knowing glance with Amanda, making her cheeks pink up, too.
“It gets worse, Mick,” Tiffany said. “If I’m going to own it, I might as well own all of it. I opened my jacket as the door opened, expecting Dylan, not Brett.”
“Oh, shit.” Mick glared at Brett. “Wipe your memory clean yet?”
“Yes, sir,” Brett said.
“Then,” Tiffany said, “I fell ass over teakettle.”
“Stop looking at me,” Brett said to Mick, who was still glaring at him. “All I did was answer the door.”
“Oh my gosh. You poor thing.” Amanda reached for her hand. “You are the bravest woman I know, next to my sister. I would have crawled under a rock.”
“Not helping,” Dylan said under his breath.
“I meant it as a compliment,” Amanda said quickly.
“I know you did,” Tiffany assured her. “And Brett’s right. All he did was answer the door. It was my fault for closing my eyes.” She lowered her voice and looked at Amanda as she said, “Because I’m not that brave.”
“Let me tell you about my fall.” Amanda went into an animated description of tumbling off her heels in the middle of a bar.
It sounded like the story was true, but Dylan knew she was only sharing it to help ease Tiffany’s embarrassment, and he made a mental note to thank her when they were in private.
An hour later, with Tiffany’s trip into the poker game behind them, they chose the date for the fundraiser and divvied up all the jobs to get the ball rolling.
“Let’s wrap this up,” Dylan said. “The event is in four weeks. Mick, you and Amanda are going to put together marketing materials, and Carson and Brett will work the celeb scene for donations. Summers will work on getting sports sponsorships, and I’ll make the rounds with the media.”
Brett held his hand up. “Hold up. Who’s Summers?”
Tiffany laughed. “That would be me, but please don’t ask why.”
Brett leaned across the table and waggled his brows. “Given that your name is Winters, I’m guessing it’s because you’re so hot.”
“Okay, enough.” Dylan glared at Brett. “My girlfriend. My nickname. You do not need to figure it out. Got it?”
Brett held his hands up in surrender. “It’s cool, man. Or maybe I should say, It’s hot.”
“Christ, you’re a jackass.” Dylan shook his head. “Sorry, babe.”
“It’s fine. Brett obviously needs to live vicariously through you.” She smirked at Brett. “He probably hit a dry spell.”
“Oh my gosh. You are so good at that,” Amanda said. “Can you teach me?”
Everyone laughed.
Dylan’s heart swelled at her resilience, and he could tell by the smile on Brett’s face, his brother wouldn’t cause her any further embarrassment.
He hugged Tiffany and whispered, “I’m so into you, Summers. You can’t even imagine…”
“I have a great imagination. Perhaps we should compare notes.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
DYLAN AWOKE SUNDAY morning to Tiffany’s soft murmur. She lay curled against him naked and sound asleep. His non-cuddling temptress loved to cuddle after all. They were going to visit his mother later that morning, and even though he was excited to introduce them, he was also nervous. He wondered if he should have introduced her on a day when they wouldn’t be going through pictures of Lorelei. This was liable to be a very painful day for both him and his mother. Selfishly, he wanted Tiffany with him. Hell, he wanted her with him every minute of every day, but it was asking a lot to make her endure a day that would be as sad as it would be a relief.
His eyes moved over the dusky room to his dresser, where Tiffany’s perfume and several pieces of jewelry had taken up residence. He’d cleaned out a drawer even though she’d fought him on needing one. I live an elevator ride away. I think I can live without a drawer. He’d known it was a knee-jerk reaction based on the independence she’d grown accustomed to, and he hadn’t pushed her on it. Two days later she’d opened that empty drawer and filled it with a few of her outfits—I guess it does make sense after all. He smiled to himself, knowing how much she needed to be in control. She hadn’t lost one bit of her strength or independence since they’d been together. And he
thought she’d become even stronger as she opened up and let him in. She’d definitely helped him see himself in a different light. Dylan had thought true love meant needing the other person in a much different way than Tiffany needed him. He’d thought he needed to be relied on for everything, that he could only feel loved and appreciated if he was truly needed, and she’d proven how very wrong he was. She didn’t need Dylan in her life. She wanted him, and that was a whole different experience. A deeper, more meaningful experience. He pulled her tighter against him, wanting her to take up more of his life than one drawer and a little dresser space.
She turned, bleary-eyed and beautiful. “Hi. Why are you awake?”
He kissed her forehead and whispered, “I don’t know. Sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep. It’s early.”
Her fingers moved in slow circles through his chest hair, as she settled against him with a sleepy sigh. “Thinking about our visit with your mom?”
“A little.”
“Want to talk about it?” She pressed her lips to his chest.
“Nah, you should try to sleep. I was also thinking about you.”
“Dirty things?”
He heard the smile in her voice. “Always, and long-term things.” Her fingers stopped and he covered them with his hand. He knew he’d scared her. “Go back to sleep, babe.”
She tilted her face up toward him. “Now? After you said that?” She pushed up on her elbow. “What kind of long-term things?”
He shrugged.
She shook her head. “You always know why you say things. You are an overthinker.”
“You think you know me.” He gently swept her beneath him and gazed into her eyes, which were now vibrant and alert.
“I do know you,” she said with a confident smile.
“I was just thinking about how I wanted you in my life more permanently.”
“We’re together every night,” she reminded him.
“I know. I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m just saying I want more of you.”
“Way to woo a girl,” she teased.
He knew she wasn’t looking for a proposal. She would run scared if he went in that direction, and that was okay. That was Tiffany, and he’d not only fallen hard for her, but he’d fallen in love with her. He had tempered his confession the other night because he knew if he told her how hard he’d already fallen it would have scared her. So he’d tucked that truth away once again, biding his time until she was ready for more.
He laced his hands with hers, settling them beside her head, and kissed his way down her neck, along her warm skin to her breasts. “I think I know how to woo you just fine.”
She arched off the bed, willing him toward her right nipple. “I don’t know about that. You still haven’t earned your ten.”
He slicked his tongue over the taut peak. “I’ve earned way more than a ten. Many, many times.”
She looked up at the ceiling as if she were in deep concentration. “I don’t remember that.”
“Sometimes you have to give up control to reach new heights.” He sucked her nipple into his mouth and she gasped, then moaned deliciously, straining against his hands. “Are you ready to give up control, sweet summer girl?”
He moved up her body and brought both hands over her head, holding them in one of his, and filled his free hand with her breast as he brushed his lips over hers.
“No answer, Summers?”
She tried to lift her hands off the mattress, but his grip was too strong.
“I’ll never hurt you or make you do anything you don’t want to. Do you want me to set you free, or do you want to lose control?” He flattened his hand along her ribs and moved it slowly over her waist, lingering along her lush curves before moving lower and splaying it across her outer thigh. His hips were nestled between hers, the head of his cock resting against her slick center. Divine torture.
“I want you,” she said, arching off the mattress.
“But I want all of you, sweet girl. I want to see you really give up control and lose yourself in me.” The thought of her giving him complete control electrified him.
“I always lose myself in you.” She was breathing harder, licking her lips with anticipation.
“I want you to trust me enough to relinquish complete control, babe.” He released her hands, and when she reached for him, he captured her wrists in his hands and brought them over her head again, wrapping her fingers around the wooden slats in the headboard.
Her eyes widened.
“Think you can hold on to that for me?”
She trapped her lower lip between her teeth and he kissed it free.
“I can stop,” he offered.
“No,” she said quickly. “But I haven’t ever…I’ve never been…”
“Tied up?” he asked gently. She’d already revealed that to him when she’d admitted her ex had been into sex clubs, though he wasn’t sure she was thinking clearly enough to remember. It was a moment he would never forget.
“I don’t want to tie you up, sweet girl. I don’t want to frighten you in any way. I just want you to hold on to that for me and let me pleasure you. I promise you’ll like it.” He knew how much she liked to guide and direct and take part in their lovemaking, which he found hot as sin, but he wanted to cross this line. Their relationship was built on baby steps with a few giant leaps. He wanted her complete, undeniable trust. He was ready for that step, and he knew in his heart she was, too.
She closed her eyes and his mouth came gently down over hers. She opened eagerly for him, their tongues dancing with an urgent need for more. She rocked against his cock, driving him out of his mind, but she kept her fingers curled around the wood.
He wouldn’t say the three words that would frighten her, but he placed his mouth next to her ear and told her the rest of the truth, what she needed to hear. “I want all of you, Summers.” He felt her stiffen beneath him. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never hurt you or make you ashamed to have been with me. You can trust me. I have no secrets from you.”
He closed his eyes, feeling the frantic beat of her heart against his and listening for her breathing to calm enough that he could be sure she heard him. He didn’t lift up and gaze into her eyes, because he didn’t want to pressure her any more than he already had. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and gently lowered her hands from above her head, careful to avoid her gaze. She needed a modicum of control even when she was giving it up. She needed to make the next move.
DYLAN HAD LONG ago shattered any armor Tiffany had around her heart, but what he was asking for now was even bigger. Making love with him was intense and glorious and hot as hell, but she’d never been able to relinquish complete control with anyone. It wasn’t in her. She wasn’t even sure her body would obey the command, but she wanted to try. For Dylan, she’d do anything. She lifted shaky hands above her head and curled her fingers around the smooth wooden slats again.
His smile told how deeply her handing over the reins had touched him, and when he lowered his mouth to hers, she drank in the sweetness of his kiss. He lingered on her mouth, placing feathery kisses over her lips, and whispering sweet words of encouragement that made her insides burn and ache for more.
He rose onto his knees between her legs. Heat simmered beneath her skin at the sight of him watching her. His chest rose with each lustful breath. Her eyes followed the dark trail of chest chair down the center of his abs to his long, eager cock, reaching beyond his belly button. Her thighs instinctively pressed against his legs. His eyes drifted upward, burning a path from her sex, to her breasts, and lingered on her mouth.
“I love your mouth,” he whispered. His hands hung tensely by his sides, his fingers curling, his biceps flexing. It was as if he was savoring every second of his visual feast. Those dark eyes drifted lower again, lingering on her breasts, and a stroke of pleasure whipped through her.
He licked his lips, the air pulsing with anticipation, and when his gaze followed her belly down to her sex, desire surge
d through her. She bit her lower lip to keep from making a sound.
He sank back on his heels and ran his fingers lightly along the outside of her legs. “Are you okay, babe?”
Her body was humming, and when she opened her mouth to respond, all that came out was a shaky breath. He splayed his hands over her thighs, spreading them wider. Her thighs were wet, and as he came down over her, he rubbed his hard length along her wetness and brought his mouth to hers, kissing her tauntingly softly, then brushed his lips over hers.
“Still with me?”
She nodded. “I want to kiss you.”
“Then we’ll have to wait to do that,” he said with more control than tenderness. Moving over her body, he straddled her waist and brought his mouth to her wrists. His chest moved beside her face, bringing his masculine scent and the scent of sex with it. His tongue slicked over the inside of first one wrist, then the other. She tightened her fingers around the headboard, needing more of him so desperately she lifted her head and flicked her tongue over his nipple.
He groaned and lowered his chest, allowing her to do it again. She sucked and teased ravenously, wanting so much more, but she’d take what she could get. He made a low, growling sound of appreciation in the back of his throat, and she increased her efforts, sucking and licking and trying to move to his other nipple. But he shifted, slicking his tongue down the underside of her arm, then sucking on the crook of her elbow. Her hips rose off the mattress with the electric shock of heat it sent between her legs.
“Dylan,” she panted out. “I want more of you.”
In the blink of an eye he claimed her mouth, kissing her hard and sending her senses reeling. She clung so tightly to the wood, she shifted up on the mattress, and just as quickly, he released her mouth. Before she could catch her breath, he was between her legs, eating at her pussy, fucking her with his tongue, and holding her legs open, rousing passion she didn’t know she possessed. Noises streamed uncontrollably from her lips. She should be embarrassed, lying open to him, for him, giving herself over like this, but she wasn’t. She felt loved and whole and in complete control because this was her decision. She was giving herself to Dylan; he wasn’t demanding or taking. She wanted this. She wanted him. All of him. And this glorious, tantalizing torture blew her away. Her limbs shook, and desire radiated outward from her chest, from between her legs, where she throbbed, swollen and wet.