Love Me If You Dare

by Lauren Hawkeye

  “Shit.” I cringed as I cussed, my skin flushing crimson with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

  “Don’t.” Emotions ran over his face for a long moment, as if he couldn’t decide quite how he felt. There—there. Another rare Dylan McKay smile, this time a full grin. I didn’t get the impression that he was laughing at me either, more that he was delighted with me.

  It was so strange.

  Why the hell was he even here?

  “I’d like to take you climbing sometime.” He finally said. The fingers touching my waist moved, sliding around until his palm was pressed underneath the hem of my tank top, splayed over the small of my back.

  It was the smallest of touches, nothing really in the grand scheme of things. The fingers touching my waist moved, sliding around until his palm was pressed underneath the hem of my tank top, splayed over the small of my back.

  It was the smallest of touches, nothing really in the grand scheme of things. Yet it made me ache more than anything I’d done with any other guy, ever.

  I should have pulled away. This was so fucked up.

  I didn’t.

  “Okay.” I whispered. At that moment he could have suggested that he’d like to go with me to get our heads shaved and I would have agreed, and probably even enjoyed it.

  “Good.” He pressed down with his palm, urging me forward. I saw it coming, saw the intent in his eyes, on his face as he moved so, so slowly towards me.

  He was deliberately giving me plenty of time to say no. Stop this right now! My brain was screaming. I don’t think I can. That was the opinion of my body.

  I didn’t feel like the choice was fully mine. I didn’t move in to meet him—I wasn’t quite brave enough for that. But I held perfectly still, eyes wide open, as he pressed his lips to mine.

  Once, twice—the kiss was soft, but at the same time fully dominant. It was telling me—he was telling me—that if I gave in to this kiss, there was no going back.

  Having branded my lips with that mere brush, he pulled back, eyes fully green in the twilight. Watching me as if he didn’t want to miss the slightest nuance on my face.

  As I looked at him, I wasn’t sure I’d ever had a choice.

  With a moan I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and kissed him back. One hand moved down to trace the solid outline of his shoulder muscles; the other tangled in thick hair the color of caramel.

  On his end there was no hesitation. The hand not heating my spine tangled in the curls of my ponytail and tugged, angling my head so that he had better access to my lips.

  Holy shit. Fireworks exploded in my veins, the sparks dancing over my skin. Greedy, I swiped my tongue over the seam of his lips, groaning when he opened his mouth and swept his own tongue inside my mouth to taste.

  My nipples contracted to the point of pain as I rubbed my chest against his. I arched my back when he nipped at my lower lip, then swiped his tongue over the bite to ease the sting.

  I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. All I could do was feel.

  Aligning my body with his, his hips framed the gentle swell of my belly. Moving on instinct, I arched my pelvis into his, searching for the heat and hardness that I could get lost in. He pressed back, and I could feel his erection, the long, hard evidence of how much he wanted me pressing into my stomach.

  When he broke away I braced my hands on his shoulders and panted. He looked equally undone, but got control of himself far faster than I did.

  “Good night, Kaylee.” My heart stuttered when he ran a finger over lips that were swollen from that onslaught of a kiss. I could see in his eyes that the kiss had affected him, confused him, just as much as it had me.

  We just looked at each other for a long moment. There was so much to say, and no words to say it.

  Of all the stupid things I’d ever done, giving in to Dylan McKay was the absolute stupidest. There was so much between us that could never be resolved, and I was asking for a world of hurt if I gave in.

  But that was all I wanted—to give in to what this thing between us was asking.

  Dylan turned then, walking down the steps and away, leaving me hot and needy to the point of pain.

  The bastard didn’t look back, not even once.

  “Shit.” Bracing my hand on the railing of the porch, I ran my own fingers over the lips that had just been devoured.

  I hadn’t kissed many boys before Dylan—I’d been so infatuated with him that I hadn’t wanted to. And after I’d gotten to Connecticut I’d been so desperate to burn the images of him, of my sister from my mind that I’d gone a little crazy, gaining experience as fast as I could with any hottie who caught my eye.

  I’d done so much more than kissing, and I wasn’t ashamed of it. But even going all the way, even having someone else inside of my body, hadn’t affected me even a fraction as much as this one kiss from Dylan McKay.

  Feeling drunk on lust, confusion and anger, I made my way into the house, followed the feminine voices into the living room where Maddy and Serena sat cross legged on the couch, shot glasses and a bottle of vodka in between them.

  They both looked up eagerly when I came into the room.

  “Well?” Serena asked, her smile both tentative and eager. “How did that go?”

  I sidestepped the question, looking pointedly at Maddy. “Aren’t you home a little early?”

  She grimaced and busied herself pouring another shot. “Date was a dud.”

  “How come?”I asked, squeezing myself onto the couch between my two friends. Forgoing the shot glasses, I took a slug straight from the bottle.

  “Well, I’m not averse to a little action at the end of a first date. I’m a modern woman, you know? If I’m into it, I just go with it.”

  “No slut shaming here.” Serena said solemnly, though her twinkling eyes betrayed her. Maddy tossed a pillow at the petite blonde’s head, and Serena batted it away with a shriek.

  “The vodka! Watch the vodka!”

  I took the bottle back from Serena and settled it between my knees. “I will keep the vodka, thank you very much.”

  “Anyway,” Maddy continued, downing the shot she’d poured when I’d come in. She shook her head and exhaled through her nose as she swallowed.

  “So he kisses me. It was not bad. But then he asks how I feel about handcuffs.” Maddy snorted through her nose, clearly disgusted. “As if.”

  There was a pause, in which Serena and I looked at one another and tried not to giggle. Maddy caught out look.

  “What?” She demanded, grabbing for the vodka bottle.

  “Well,” I started, holding it out of the way and taking another swig myself. The numbing effects of the alcohol combined with pure silliness with my besties was exactly what I’d needed to save me from moping and analyzing every aspect of the kiss that I could still feel burning my lips.

  They were staying for only a few more days. Instead of stressing over it, I decided to try to relax and enjoy my friends.

  “How do you feel about handcuffs?” Grinning, I wiggled my eyebrows at her, which reminded me of my ‘kinky’ comment on the front porch. I’d been so embarrassed that I’d said something like that—not that I hadn’t said things like it a million times in the last few years.

  But I’d never said them to someone who should have been shocked to hear them come out of my mouth. Except Dylan hadn’t seemed shocked, not at all.

  What was it he’d said?

  “You’re so refreshing.”

  Wrenching my thoughts away from Dylan, I tried to pay attention to the teasing that was still being batted back and forth between Maddy and Serena. But a sound at the entrance to the living room, a slight click of heels on the hardwood, caught my attention.

  I looked up to find my mother leaning against the doorjamb, her expression bemused. My gut clenched.

  “I thought I heard some fun going on.” My mom’s eyes were only slightly glassy, not yet bloodshot, and her face was lightly flushed, but not the full
red that her pale skin went when she was drunk.

  “Hi, Mom.” I pinched my lips together until it hurt. I hadn’t had a chance to get her alone and to ask her to please not talk about Ella to my friends. Even if I’d had her assurances, all bets were off when she was drunk.

  “Hey, Mrs. Sawyer.” Maddy nodded at my mom, and carelessly set the bottle of vodka on the coffee table.

  I cringed, looking from the bottle to my mother and back again.

  Please, I prayed. Please, just be normal.

  “Was that Dylan McKay I heard outside?” My mother asked, entering the room and seating herself in an armchair on the other side of the coffee table.

  She hadn’t looked at the bottle of vodka yet. In fact, it seemed like she was actively trying not to.

  Stunned, I looked my mom in the face.

  “How—were you watching us?” My jaw worked as I cringed inwardly.

  That kiss had been so intimate, so private... so hot. I may have come to view my mother somewhere along the lines of an overgrown child who needed to be taken care of, but I still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of her watching... that.

  “Watch your tone, Kaylee Ann.” I blinked as she scolded me, suddenly transported to my early teens, back to the days when she and my dad had actually cared.

  Could it be... no.

  No, I wasn’t even going to hope.

  “He’s a nice boy, that Dylan.” My mom laced her fingers tightly together, and I wondered if she was actively trying to not reach for the open booze.

  “You sure you’re remembering the right Dylan, Mom?” I forced myself to joke, aware that Serena and Maddy were following every nuance of the conversation intently. But really... it had to have been over three years since she’d seen him. Since Ella’s funeral, probably.

  Which still didn’t explain how she’d known it was him I was with on the porch.

  “He comes over to mow the lawn when he can. Fixes things if I need it. The washing machine, the hinges on the door. Even the brake pads on my car, once.” Mom looked off into the distance, her expression vacant, as I gaped, trying to assimilate this information with what I knew about Dylan.

  He’d changed, for sure. But he still carried that air of repressed danger around with him, and I just couldn’t picture him pushing a lawnmower over lush green grass.

  And yet, after tonight... I kinda could.

  “Uh-oh.” I heard Maddy whisper. I could feel her eyes on me as my heart wobbled, then fell to somewhere in the vicinity of my knees.

  I was done for.

  “Well, you girls have a nice night.” Mom’s voice was overly bright. I was just softening towards her, thinking, hoping, that maybe we’d turned a corner. But the muscles that had relaxed quickly hardened into stone as slowly, casually, she reached for the bottle of vodka that she had been avoiding.

  She quickly poured herself a shot, then swigged it back. Serena and Maddy started to giggle, but the sound halted abruptly when a strangled noise caught in the back of my throat.

  “I’m out for the night.” Slowly, my mom stood, smiling at my friends, who suddenly seemed unsure.

  I felt as though my skin had been peeled from my flesh—everything hurt, an unbearable throbbing ache.

  They knew now, Maddy and Serena did—they knew part of my secret. They knew how incredibly fucked up my mom was.

  I’d tried so hard to remove myself from this very situation, to no avail.

  I wanted to scream.

  “Night, girls.” Mom paused in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder at me. She smiled, warmth in the gesture, but all I felt was cold.

  “It’s nice to have you home, Ella.” Then she was gone, leaving me feeling as though shards of ice had stabbed me through the heart.

  My friends were quiet for a long moment, and the silence was deafening. Finally Serena—my best friend, the girl I’d known for three years who I wouldn’t really let know me at all—Serena whispered the question.

  “Who’s Ella?”

  The pain was a million tiny blades, stabbing into that raw flesh. I dropped my head into my hands, suddenly shaking all over.

  “Ella—” I had to stop, to clear my throat. I hadn’t wanted to even speak her name again, because it hurt too damn much.

  I missed her, damn it.

  It was my fault she was gone, and I wanted her back.

  My friends were waiting, the silence poking at me.

  “Ella is—was my sister.” I swallowed, my throat and mouth so dry that it hurt to speak.

  “She’s dead.”

  Chapter Six

  I’m on my way over.

  The shrill tone that announced a new text message on my phone woke me from a fitful sleep at six the next morning. I winced, silencing it before it could wake Serena or Maddy, both of whom were blanket covered lumps on the floor.

  I could only think of one person it could be.

  Dylan?

  The response was instantaneous.

  Wear something comfortable that you don’t mind getting dirty. Bring some gloves if you have any. And don’t eat.

  I hadn’t slept well at all the night before, and a good chunk of the reason why was because that kiss kept playing through my mind. I was grumpy, my eyes gritty¸ and not overly pleased at being woken at the crack of dawn.

  None of this stopped my heart from fluttering a bit in my chest regardless.

  How did you get this number?

  I’d certainly never given it to him.

  A pause.

  Your mom.

  Given what I’d learned last night, this wasn’t strange. And the fact that he’d gone out of his way to get my cell phone number made my insides melt, just enough to have me tiptoeing from beneath the warm cocoon of my covers.

  I perched on the edge of my mattress, chewing on my lower lip as I thought of what to reply.

  Can’t this wait until a decent hour? Like tonight maybe? Someone kept me out past my bedtime.

  Again, the response was quick.

  I have to leave for work this afternoon. I’ll be gone for a week. I’d like to see you.

  He was going to be gone for a week? I was far more disappointed than I should have been.

  I was working through the heaviness in my chest when a second text came in.

  And if you’re going to be up all night, I can think of something better for you to do than try to sleep.

  I hissed in a breath, my skin flushing, heat pooling between my legs, all from that little comment.

  “Christ.” I raked a hand through my sleep snarled hair. I wasn’t as upset this morning, though I was far from serene. But my pride wanted to prove that I could be around him without breaking my heart, so I tapped out a final text message one handed.

  Fine. Give me ten. And it had better be good.

  My phone beeped one final time as I hastily pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a baggy men’s tank top, a sports bra peeking through the loose fabric.

  You’ve got five. And I’m always good.

  I rolled my eyes as I trudged into the bathroom to pee, to comb my hair and to brush the morning fuzzies from my teeth. I briefly considered slapping on some makeup.

  I hadn’t been wearing any the night before, and I’d still been kissed senseless. It was kind of appealing, not wearing a face full of gunk like I normally did.

  Dylan knew things about me that no one else on the planet did, whether I wanted him to or not. He could see me without makeup.

  I’d just made it downstairs and secured the laces on my sneakers when a light tap tap sounded on the door. I grabbed the thin one size fits all gloves that I’d found balled up in an old winter coat in the hall closet, and slid my sunglasses to the top of my head before answering it.

  “Damn it.” The words slipped out without my meaning to saying them out loud when I opened the door. Dylan stood there, track pants hanging low on his hips, a dark T-shirt stretched snugly across the muscles of his chest and shoulders.

  His hair stood
up in damp spikes, and he smelled like he’d come straight from the shower.

  “What?” He gave me that crooked grin before taking my hand and pulling me from the house. The simple touch short circuited my morning scrambled brain.

  “No one should look that good this early.” I frowned when I realized what I’d said, then shrugged.

  I didn’t care if he thought I was trying to be like Ella in my attitude. It might have started out that way, me deliberately trying to keep my sister’s memory alive, but now it was ingrained inside of me.

  This was how I talked now—without much of a filter. He could get over it or take a hike.

  I wasn’t sure which option I was hoping for.

  The windows of Dylan’s truck were steamed over.

  “Were you having a lot of fun in here by yourself?” I asked. I meant the tendency of car windows to steam up when its occupants were going at it.

  Dylan cast me a wounded look. At that moment something that looked like a big wet nose was pressed against the passenger’s side window.

  “Poose insisted on coming.” He chuckled, opened the truck door for me, and ordered the dog out.

  She was a big mass of black fur and slobber, and was clearly thrilled to see me. A sharp order from Dylan had her freezing mid-jump and falling to the ground, where she vibrated with repressed excitement.

  “She can be our chaperone.” I said wryly, waiting until the dog was ensconced in the truck bed before climbing in myself.

  I’d spent my wakeful night time hours thinking about our kiss. I wanted more of them. But twined right along with that desire was the memory of Dylan’s face the night Ella died, his eyes blazing with accusation.

  I was stupid to want him. But I was no longer the kind of girl who measured her steps and looked before she leapt. I might get my heart broken—I certainly would, when this had played out.

  But maybe I’d finally have some resolution. Maybe I’d be able to purge him from my system.

  As Dylan swung himself up behind the wheel of the truck, the rising sun glinted off of his hair, his skin.

  I wondered if it was possible to gorge on someone like him to the point where I didn’t want him anymore. My hormone laced brain didn’t think so, but I was willing to try.