by A. J. Lape
Dylan moved in for the kill. “That excuse isn’t good enough, sweetheart. I know full well who you are, and I wouldn’t change one single thing. In fact, it would bore the life out of me if you’d change. Don’t you want to experience what is yet unwritten?”
Um, wow…one heckuva pickup line. Trouble was, I knew he meant it.
A deadpan stare. “Maybe,” I conceded.
Dylan’s predator smile returned. “Give me a chance, Darc. Please,” he added, whispering out the please.
My hands traveled up to explore the planes of his chest, circling around behind his shoulder blades and back down to where they rested at his hips. I stared for a darn long time, enjoying each beautiful curve of his face. A strong yet tender jaw. Chiseled cheeks that grew more defined with a deep smile. Lips that only spoke words of encouragement. With a body that would rock anyone’s world. Everything about him was intoxicating. Dylan Taylor left me breathless, and I wondered how in the world I could’ve missed what had been standing beside me for years.
I couldn’t believe I was going to do this…
…say this.
Yet my mouth took over and unloaded the truth.
“When you got hurt,” I winced, “in the car accident,” I paused, “I only saw reasons why this wouldn’t work. Reasons that nearly got you and two of my best friends killed. I live with a lot of guilt, D. Guilt that comes from my mother and guilt over just…breathing. Guilt I prefer to not give power over me because if I do, I can’t function. But even though I build up walls, I’m still not right. Not really. I bite my nails. I’m an insomniac. I count crap when I’m nervous. But if I have a chance of being the person you think I am or I want to be, I know the chance only exists with you. I’m sorry I hurt you, Dylan—with anything I’ve done here lately or in the past. I want to apologize for the future because more is destined to come. I’ve given you my heart,” I exhaled. “Can you live with that?”
Dylan was on me so fast every ounce of air left my body.
His strong arms encased my waist, pulling us so close we toppled over as one body—spilling onto the floor. I felt his legs, chest, and hips straining against mine as though he literally tried to step inside my body.
Then he kissed me…
Oh. My. Word.
I’m making out with Dylan Taylor.
From the moment our lips met, I knew this wasn’t a best friend thing. It felt carnal and powerful and awakened something I’d never felt possible.
Especially not with Dylan.
But then again…only with Dylan.
The kiss was tentative at first—as if I’d break—but then his mouth grew more fevered. He grabbed a handful of my hair and explored my cheeks…first the left, the right…and thank you Lord, found his way back to my lips. Dylan’s kiss was the type that left no doubt as to what he wanted.
Me.
Any time. Any place.
Whenever he snapped his gorgeous, cocky fingers.
I gasped for air, attempting to crab walk backward in the search for O2.
Dylan grabbed my right shoe and yanked me toward him, his voice coming out in a lusty growl. “Oh, no, you don’t.”
“I’m just trying to breathe,” I shakily inhaled.
“Oxygen is overrated,” he murmured, his voice convulsing more than mine.
I wasn’t so sure.
With Dylan’s lips now at my neck, after a couple more minutes of holding hands with death, I made another fruitless move to sit up. We’d somehow worked our way from the edge of the stairs to the dining room table. I toppled over a chair. Dylan caught it in one hand, tossing it off to the side with a smacking crash. It nipped the base of the Christmas tree. The tree teetered like the Leaning Tower of Pisa and then came down in a tinging crash. The lights blinked off in two zaps; the star on the top flew across the room…a gingerbread man landed face down…the gingerbread girl landed on top of him. The boom rattled a glass reindeer on a shelf. We both watched as it wobbled and fell to the hardwood, shattering into tiny little pieces.
“I’ll replace that,” he breathed.
I’d been on all fours when I dove for the reindeer. Now I collapsed face down like I’d been shot with a rifle. My word, is this what a relationship with him would be like? We’d practically wrecked the place. I was worn out. Confused. Hormonally activated. Scared out of my ever lovin’ mind. Dylan flipped me over, both arms in a push-up by my head, his eyes daring me to move.
His lips found mine again.
After several breathtaking minutes working at my lips, he moved to my hair and trailed down my neck to my collarbone until I moaned in complete and utter ecstasy. All right. I’m a woman of opportunity, and it would be a crime to not take advantage of the situation.
At first I was nervous, thinking I’d do something that would turn him off, but then I figured I should YOLO the experience because it might be my last. My hands found his black hair and pulled and twisted to the point it had to have hurt. Tenderly moving my lips over his, I stopped searching for an answer to our muddied relationship. I didn’t overthink the what-ifs and maybe-we-shouldn’ts. All I thought was how unbelievably forbidden and predestined he tasted. I arched at every move his mouth made and answered each caress with equal passion. When Dylan kissed, he was freaking thorough…I didn’t know where he began, and I ended. All at once, he backed off and let me take more of the sweet taste he offered. And girl, did I make sure to take my fair share. I’d never really been given the reins to kiss someone…but when Dylan gave them to me, I took over in a horrifyingly violent manner. And yes, I apologize to anyone that has heart problems for that vivid description.
He murmured, “You’re beautiful” and sucked my bottom lip into his, gently nibbling on its edge.
When I hooked my right leg around his hip and moaned, “Don’t stop…”
He. Did.
Duuuuuuuude….
That was just wroooooonnnnnnng.
He fisted a handful of my hair in his hand, burying his face in my neck. Leaving my left hand at the small of his back, I put two fingers on my lips as if to cool them. “D,” I mumbled, speaking behind them.
Dylan’s entire body shook. “Hey,” I breathed, “Are you all right?”
His passion slowly harnessed. And my heart took a free fall. Had he changed his mind so quickly? I recoiled defensively. Ah, shoot. He thinks I’m a goodtime girl when frankly, I didn’t even understand the good time. I did understand why-buy-the-cow-when-you-can-get-the-milk-for-free better than anyone in the country. Murphy was from Kentucky. That was the unsaid slogan amongst parents and farmers. But now I might understand why some cultures worshipped it.
I metaphorically placed my hand over my heart in a pledge. “D, I promise I’m not a milking cow, and I don’t worship them either. I know that’s bovine ignorance.”
Dylan finally mumbled into my neck. “Sweetheart, give me a sec. I honestly wasn’t prepared for your enthusiasm.”
Oh. Okay. I could deal with that. Longing to touch him, I forced myself to remain still, afraid one quick move one way or another would erase what went down here. Regardless of what he thought, I thought it was beautiful.
I sighed.
After a quick peck under my chin, he lifted his head with a gaze that I couldn’t quite describe. It was somewhere else. When his eyes bled back into focus, he was drunk and drowsy on…holy crap.
It was desire.
He hadn’t shaken because he was scared…or changed his mind. He’d shaken because he was holding himself back.
Dylan shakily set us both up and took my palm in his hand, placing it over his heart. It moved so hard and fast I could see his shirt jump up and down with each beat. “Feel this,” he murmured. “This is why I waited so long for you, Darcy. I knew it would feel like this, and I wasn’t going to let it slip
away. Seriously, sweetheart, your kissing skills are off the charts. Some can’t handle that sort of passion…I crave it.”
Alriiiiiggggghttty then…
“Yeah,” I giggled, “I feel like I just ran a marathon.”
My voice hiccupped all over the place.
The dimples made an appearance while Dylan ran his finger down my jaw. “That’s love, sweetheart,” he winked. “It’s going to ignite your insides every time I touch you. It’s not going to be boring, or habitual, or predictable—”
“Or safe,” I whispered.
“No,” he quickly murmured. “That’s where you’re wrong. It’s always going to be safe with me. I’m one of the good guys. I’d never hurt you.”
I blurted out, “Kissing is an upgrade I underestimated. Can you at least tell me if I was any good?”
I ran both hands through my hookerfied hair, feeling like an absolute idiot. But my God, I was all ears. Wondering if he’d let me in on a trade secret that’d bring him to his knees.
I heard Dylan chuckle. No wonder…just cut out my tongue already.
“Trust me, sweetheart. I’ve never been so attracted to someone in my life. So yeah, it was good.”
My fingers lingered on my lower lip, fighting back a smile. My mind couldn’t unravel what’d happened let alone try to interpret Dylan was genuinely attracted to me.
Tunneling his fingers through my hair, he pulled me forward and gently placed a thumb in the dimple of my chin. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
My heart caught in my throat. “You ain’t too shabby yourself,” I whispered.
“Listen, I feel like I need to shoot straight here. I just…” he paused and inhaled deeply, “I just…love you,” he exhaled.
“Always,” I added quickly. “Always, always, always.”
He slowly shook his head from left to right. “Not like that, sweetheart. It’s not our best friend love. I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you for years, but over the past year things changed for me. And in all honesty, I can’t remember not having been in love with you.”
I stop…take it all in…I’m stuck on shocked.
File that under My Best Friend’s On Drugs.
Dylan grinned at my open-mouthed expression.
How in God’s holy name were you supposed to respond to that? I know I should return the L-word phrase—because God knew I worshiped the ground he walked on—but the emotions struck me like a Kansas tornado. Dylan hugged a part of my soul that’d never been touched. That touch reminded me I’d loved and lost before too.
Dylan saw the panic, and I swear, he knew the source. “One thing at a time,” he whispered. “I get you. I understand you. And I love you more than anything in my life.”
Dylan’s dimples had a way of making my discomfort vanish. While I slowly came to grips with his words, I couldn’t fight the smile that enveloped my face. Darcy Winston Walker had a boyfriend. Dylan Michael Taylor held the title.
Eat that, all you haters!
The silence hung in the air like a question neither of us would ask…where did we go from here?
I’m not sure of the chain of events, but we lay on the couch, Dylan nothing but smiles; me wondering why in the heck I’d just stripped myself of my single status—willingly. Somewhere between making it to the couch, the tree had been righted, the gingerbread ornaments rehung, popcorn had been popped, and both of us nursed a steaming hot cup of cocoa. “I have a couple of rules,” he murmured, kissing the top of my head.
My popcorn took on the texture of wet potting soil. I started to cough. I don’t know; maybe I was crying. When Dylan pounded on my back, the noises dissolved into nervous giggles. Of course, Mr. Bossy Pants would have rules. I decided to look on this in a positive light. Everything had rules. Baseball had rules. Boxing had rules. War had rules. Relationships, I suppose, did too.
Pushing up on an elbow, I leaned in and braced my hand on his chest. Dylan kissed me once. Twice. Two more times. When I pulled back, he tunneled his fingers through the hair at my nape, deepening the connection once more. I moaned. Somebody help me, but I moaned like a darn mountain lion. “About those rules?” I grinned into his lips.
I could feel his smile against my mouth.
Tucked up under his arm, Dylan buried the fingers of his other hand in my hair. That felt so good I was pretty sure you could set my hair on fire, and I wouldn’t even care. “If this thing ever goes south,” he murmured, “then you don’t run. We stay up all night and duke it out until we’re on the same page. It’s a physical hurt when we don’t get along, Darc, and I don’t want any repeats. Please…” The hurt in his voice was palpable—I honest to God had no idea I could hurt him as much as he could hurt me. “When I lie down at night, I want to know that we’re good.”
“Kosher,” I nodded.
“Kosher,” he agreed. “And I want you to quit thinking of me with other girls. There aren’t any. There are no other relationships or hints of relationships. I’ll be honest with you, and you be honest with me. But I can’t explain what I don’t know is bothering you. You’ve been tortured by things you’ve been hearing, and yet you’ve kept the bulk of those feelings to yourself. So you have to talk, sweetheart. That’s a must.”
The one thing I did mention to Dylan was that Collin admitted to making up stories about him and Brynn. Collin should count himself lucky he was in lockdown. Dylan tapped into his bloodlust when he heard and punched a wall. Thankfully, when Dylan asked for a “why,” he accepted my reasoning that Collin was just a d-bag who wanted everyone to be unhappy. And thank God for that. The real “why” would show him a Darcy I wasn’t ready for him to know.
Oh, he knew a little bit about my capabilities…but not this latest evolution of crazy.
“Pinky swear it to me,” he grinned.
I giggled, waiting for him to run out of gas. He knew, and I knew I’d screw this up before the weekend was out. I pinky swore anyway, knowing insecurity would always plague me. Think about it. Dylan had curves and muscles in all the right places; I imagined half of mine and relied on the lords of voodoo to take care of the rest.
He tucked a stray hair behind my ear, slowly smiling. “So you’re mine,” he said.
“Yours.”
“I can call tomorrow, and when I say ‘I love you,’ you know it means something more.”
“Yeah.”
“No more science experiments.”
“Temporary insanity.”
“We’re exclusive.”
“Facebook and Twitter official tonight,” I grinned.
“Saturday nights are booked through eternity.”
They’d always been his, but I said, “Deal” anyway. I then added what I knew could be a huge obstacle if Dylan didn’t appear to play things on the up-and-up. “And you’re down with dealing with Murphy on a daily basis?” I giggled.
Dylan was as sober as a judge. “I’m not a cheat, Darcy. And I never will be. Murphy and I will be fine.”
“Well, no one has ever explained to him that stoning isn’t PC anymore. He’s stuck in the Dark Ages.”
“Don’t talk yourself out of this,” he murmured.
Both of us breathed for a beat, wondering how this would invariably change things. Dylan broke the silence first. “How are you doing?” he murmured.
“I’m freaking out,” I giggled…then paused, turning the tables. “How are you doing?”
He threaded his fingers behind his neck and mischievously grinned. “I’m freaking awesome.” I threw my head back and laughed. Typical. As usually blinding as his smile was, he had the look of the cat that swallowed the canary. Poor bird. It probably enjoyed being in his mouth. “I’m going to be selfish tonight and dwell on how this makes me feel, Darc. Tomorrow, I’ll worry about you getting there.”
“Considerate.”
“I always am,” he winked. Dylan placed both his hands at the small of my back, pulling me tighter. “Now crawl on up here, and let me taste your mouth.”
I’d never had a more appealing proposition…as in, EV-UH. Right then, my iPhone grumbled with the pop-pop-pop of gunshots, and as Dylan lazily nibbled away at my neck, I snagged it from the floor and read three texts I’d missed (imagine that).
The “Call me” was from Ben Ryan. He’d phoned, beside himself around noon, when he read the morning paper. Answering it seemed dumber than the relationship I’d just committed to. The following text included a picture of Vinnie’s hand holding a black velvet engagement ring box with the caption, “She said yes.” Um, God help us…he’d still better be single. The third number registered as local, with an “I need to see you, babe” message. Jaws. That one I’d answer tonight, regardless. As I held three other options in my left hand, I glanced back to Dylan’s half-mast, drowsy eyes, and did what any red-blooded, American girl would do…I threw my phone across the floor and pounced on him like a hungry cat.
Note from the Author
Thank you, thank you, Darcyville! Darcy and I would be no place without your love and support! I sure hope you enjoyed that our girl finally got some lovin’, because she and Dylan definitely deserve the chance to explore their feelings. I mean, really. It was killing me as much as it probably killed you. I did leave a partial cliffy (I know, I know), but isn’t that Darcy’s life in a nutshell? Standing on the edge of a cliff and debating whether to jump into the unknown or back up and play it safe? Many questions about her past were answered in this book, and all (with the exception of one; I mean, duh, I can’t give you everything *evil grins*) will be answered in the next book DEFCON Darcy. Plus we’ll finally have a face-to-face with Pixie. Remember, if you would like to receive emails of upcoming releases and promotions, please sign up for my distribution list by visiting my homepage at http://www.ajlape.com. Also, if you read the Darcy Walker Series and enjoyed it, tell you friends or even lend them the book. And I’d be honored if you’d consider leaving a review at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Goodreads. God bless and big love to each of you!!