by Tara Mills
“You’re very strange.” Ariela gave him a big smile. "What can I do?"
Dylan put her to work slicing potatoes and onions while he shucked corn.
“Potatoes go on first,” he said, grabbing the foil packet she’d made and heading for the door. “Why don’t you bring the wine and join me? I’m not comfortable leaving Max out there with a hot grill.”
Of course, Max didn’t go anywhere near the grill, but it was nice to be outside. Ariela grabbed one of the lawn chairs and dumped dried seeds out of it before sitting down. Dylan opened a second chair and dropped into it. Even slouching, the guy was sexy.
She watched him as he closed his eyes and inhaled, clearly appreciating the bouquet of the wine in his glass. Then he took a slow, contemplative sip. His lashes swept up and their eyes locked. Ariela couldn't blink, couldn't look away. His quiet gaze pulled at her, made her want to get up and go to him. The urge was almost irresistible. He broke their connection first to glance at the grill. Sitting forward he set his glass down on the patio next to his chair.
“Would you protect my wine from Max in case he comes over to investigate? I should rotate the potatoes.”
“Sure.”
Over the course of the next half hour, Dylan was up and out of his chair more often than an anxious mother. Ariela offered to help, but he waved her off. “Just be comfortable.”
It was hard to follow that advice when he was running around all the time, even taking the time to top off her wine.
During a momentary lull, he dropped into his chair, stretched his long legs into the warm sunshine, and said with a sigh of complete sincerity, “Isn’t this relaxing?”
Ariela burst out laughing. “For me? Yes.”
He chuckled and hopped up again to turn the steaks and rotate the potatoes one last time. “Well, I’m having a ball.”
“You’re not normal,” she reminded him gravely.
He looked pleased that she thought so, wiggling his eyebrows playfully before taking another sip of wine. Dylan rolled his neck and shoulders, and she watched his head fall back for a moment. That throat was made to be kissed. “I’m looking forward to a shower after this,” he admitted with a low groan.
“Why don’t you go take one? I can watch things for ten minutes.”
“But you’re doing the dishes.”
“Am I?”
“Yep. Do you want to know why?”
“I guess I do.” This she had to hear.
“Because I knew you’d insist. I’m just ahead of the game.”
She snorted when she laughed. “You think you’re so smart.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No,” she admitted, crinkling her nose at him.
Dylan grinned. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Crinkle your nose at me.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes me want to jump you, and I don’t think that chair will support both of us.”
Ariela’s heart skipped and fluttered excitedly at the thought, but she played it cool. Looking down at the cheap aluminum frame and slatted seat beneath her, she nodded. “You’re probably right. You’d better stay right where you are.”
“Not so easy when you look so damn appealing.”
Ariela laughed and swept her flyaway hair back from her face. “Need I remind you this is not a date?”
He sputtered on his next sip of wine. “It isn’t?”
“No. I told you I can’t date you right now.”
“Then what is this?”
“Heck if I know. Hanging out?”
“So definitely no sex.”
“Most definitely.”
“Hmm. Then I guess we might as well eat.” Dylan shot to his feet.
That was way too easy. Did he somehow know all he’d have to do is crook his finger and she’d come? What was she doing? This was madness—like putting a cigarette and a lighter in front of someone who’s trying to quit. She was going to have the shakes if she didn't figure a way out of this before she did something reckless and stupid.
He picked up the plate beside the grill and pulled the meat off the coals and stacked the potatoes on top. With a tip of his head, he pointed her toward the door. “Come on. We’re eating inside.”
Ariela picked up the bottle and raced around him to reach the door first. She pulled it open with a grand bow. “Allow me.”
He chuckled. “Thank you.”
Following him inside, Ariela came to a dead stop and got hit in the butt by the door when it swung closed. She was too shocked to care. When the hell had Dylan found the time to set the table?
“Pick a chair.” He headed to the counter to organize their plates.
In no time, he set a plate in front of her then claimed the other chair. Before she knew it, they were sharing another meal, this time at his intimate little table.
She found herself watching him while she ate, taking everything in. It was unusual for her to feel so comfortable with anyone this fast, even more unusual to hear her private thoughts about them escape between bites. “Do you know what I really like about you?”
He gave her a slow grin. “My culinary expertise?”
“No, I’m talking on a purely superficial level here.” She reached for her glass, unsure why she’d raised the subject. It was obvious he wasn’t going to let it drop now. “Your eyes.” Looking down with a mild case of embarrassment, she stabbed a potato with her fork.
Dylan straightened in his chair. “Oh...is that what you meant?”
Venturing a peek at him she asked, “What are you talking about?”
“When you were lying on the sidewalk, you looked up at me and said, ‘wow’ before you fainted. I had no idea what to make of it.”
“Oh god.” Ariela bit her lower lip. “I suffer from honesty under duress.”
“My eyes, huh?” His unmistakably bashful smile was endearing. Then he had to go and ruin it with his next question. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to decide?”
His wink exasperated her. “Why do all guys think their penises are their best features?”
“Interesting that you immediately jumped to that conclusion. Very interesting.” He raised his glass to her and chuckled.
Ariela snorted. “Like you weren’t implying it.”
Dylan stopped baiting her. “Since you started the confessions, do you want to know what I find appealing about you?”
Ariela’s fork hung suspended in midair.
“Everything. I have to admit, when you went all damsel in distress on me, old-fashioned chivalry kicked in, hard. It didn’t hurt that you’re so damn pretty. There’s something irresistible about a helpless woman. I needed to be there for you. Unconscious and defenseless, you were lovely. Aware and playful, you’re downright powerful.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Powerful? No one’s ever called me powerful before. Wow, and here I thought you held all the good cards at the table.”
His smile was warm and oh so right. “Not a chance.”
After they finished eating, Dylan put their scraps into Max’s dish then went to let the mostly-dry retriever inside while they cleaned up. As soon as the sink was filled with hot soapy water, Ariela grabbed Dylan by the shoulders and steered him out of the kitchen.
“Don’t you have a shower to take?” she asked.
Glancing over his shoulder, he gave her a cocky grin. “I do. Wanna scrub my back?”
“Nice try.” She left him in the living room.
Max parked himself next to her, hoping for more tidbits. Twice, she told him everything was gone, but just looking at the dog got him all worked up. Kind of like his master. Amused at the thought, she decided it was probably best to ignore the retriever. Not until she was drying her hands on the towel did he lope off to curl up on the sofa.
Ariela wandered over to Dylan’s stack of magazines, but she’d barely had a moment to shift them before he walked out of the bathroom. A rush of heat shot through her. From bored to a
roused in one startling second. His aftershave wasn't making it any easier. At the first heady whiff, she inhaled his scent deep into her lungs and sighed. He noticed.
Smiling at how she was looking at him, he said, “I dressed for Max earlier. Now I’m dressed for you.”
Fanning her face, she grinned. “And I appreciate it.” A truer statement was never spoken.
“Can I interest you in a w-a-l-k?”
She shrugged. “S-u-r-e. Why are we spelling?”
Dylan’s eyes danced. “Watch.” He looked over at the dog. “Want to go for a walk?”
Max shot like a bullet off the couch and shifted excitedly from foot to foot at the door.
“He knows the word walk?” Just speaking the word prompted a desperate whimper from Max. She giggled. “Cool.”
Clipping the leash to the dog’s collar, Dylan opened the door, and Max threw himself down the steps, dragging his master with him. Dylan yanked him to a stop and turned. “Yesterday, I didn’t stand a chance. He took off before I was ready. All I could do was try to keep up. Damn dog can set a wicked pace when you’re not paying attention.”
Reminded of Dylan’s gravity defying balletic leaps the night before, she laughed. “I’m convinced.”
***
Max watered many things along the way: trees, flowers, a mailbox, a stone wall, and a hydrant.
“I haven’t actually walked this way before,” Ariela admitted.
“But you’ve driven through here, haven’t you?”
She thought about it. “I don’t think I have.”
Up ahead, there was a pretty, little house, well tended. As cute as the old neighborhood was in general, this unassuming home stood head and shoulders above its neighbors because it enjoyed obviously devoted maintenance. Even the landscaping made a statement.
“That house is beautiful,” she said with a sigh as they walked past.
“It is.”
“Do you know who lives there?” She could hardly tear her eyes away.
“Not by name. They’re an older couple.”
“I figured that.” She looked longingly at the property. “Do you ever want to see the inside of a house?”
His eyebrows inched up. “I never really thought about it.”
“Even when I was a kid, I liked to look at houses. Riding in the car or on the school bus, I’d fall in love with some of them. I’d try so hard to see inside. The best ones had big picture windows that allowed me to see right through them and into the backyards. I really wanted to explore those.”
Dylan reached out and casually draped his arm across her shoulders. “You were a born interior decorator, huh?”
“Pretty much. I wasn’t even ten when I discovered floor plans and blueprints. I’d draw my own on the sidewalk and on the driveway with my big chalk. The librarians used to give me the strangest looks when I brought my stacks of books up to the desk. I didn’t care.” She laughed and confided, “When I was about thirteen, a friend and I actually got kicked out of a store in the mall for rearranging their furniture department. Up until then, I’d been a model kid, never in any trouble, but I couldn’t stay away from faux marble lamps and coffee tables. It was a blow to my grandmother.”
He shook with laughter. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious, but since then I’ve channeled my impulses into something more constructive. I haven’t been kicked out of a furniture store since. I admit it’s still hard to drag me away from paint displays, but at least I’m allowed to take samples.”
“Where did you come from?” Dylan stopped and turned, his arms going around her. His smile was cockeyed, but it sorted itself out when he moved in to kiss her.
Max tugged against the leash, but to no avail. Giving up, he plopped down on the pavement to wait.
The scent of Dylan’s aftershave mingled seductively with the soft feel of his lips pressed against hers. The combination tipped Ariela into an honest-to-god swoon. If he weren’t holding her, she would have ended up as a puddle at his feet.
“I really want to cuddle with you on the couch, but I don’t think Max will make room for us. Is your place free?” he asked against her ear, his warm breath doing a little stroking of its own.
Feeling a bit warm all of a sudden, Ariela nodded. “Jean and Ron are going out.”
Dylan’s smile grew. He kissed her temple and sent her pulse into orbit. “So my thoughts aren’t out of line?” he asked.
Ariela’s eyes rolled closed, and she swayed against him. “God, no.”
He grinned. “Good, let’s cut through here. We’ll take Max home the back way.”
Chapter 6
Dylan never stopped touching Ariela in the car on the way to her house. It started simply enough, a gentle stroke up her arm that ended under her hair. His fingers began kneading her neck muscles, and her eyes shuttered closed, and her head fell back against the headrest. She bolted up with a yelp.
Dylan shot her a look of concern. “You okay?”
“I was terrific until I forgot about my lump.”
He chuckled and drew his hand out, caressing her cheek before returning it to the wheel and signaling his turn.
Ariela had described the unsettled feeling Dylan gave her as a tornado, but now she wasn’t sure that was the right comparison. A tornado was loud and violent, certainly, but after careful consideration, that seemed too dry. No, this was closer to a tsunami or hurricane churning through her insides because there was moisture, a great deal of very unmistakable moisture to go along with the roaring in her ears and the rumbling in her chest.
As they climbed the staircase, her footsteps felt springy, buoyant on the treads. It was as if her legs were pogo sticks. Did he feel any of this? Could he tell she was lost in a maelstrom he’d set off?
Inside the apartment, Dylan allowed her just enough time to hang up her purse before he caught her around the waist and turned her in his arms. There was something in his eyes, those luscious, blueberry eyes, that sent tension vibrating along her spine. For a fraction of a second, he simply looked at her with just a hint of a smile. Then he moved on her, decisively, closing the space between them.
Ariela looped her arms behind his neck and held on, perfectly ready and willing to be plundered. Her feet left the floor at the same time their lips connected and suddenly they were collapsing on the couch. Dylan’s hand protected her head down to the cushions. That simple, thoughtful act undid her. Ariela kissed him long and hard, rewarding his consideration.
Finally coming up for air, she nuzzled along his jaw. “You smell fantastic.”
“So do you,” he growled, diving at her throat.
“My perfume wore off hours ago.”
“I know.”
That was it—she was his if he wanted her. What an easy conquest she’d turned out to be. She couldn’t even summon up disappointment in herself. The reality was, she’d never wanted anything, anyone more, and it was no use fighting it.
Dylan pulled his head back, his lust for her unmistakable in his smoldering eyes. “Are we on the same page here?”
She cracked a little smile. “God, I hope so.”
With a groan, he crushed his lips to hers and Ariela felt a slight sting against her teeth. Then his tongue ventured out and soothed the pain away. Now his kiss mellowed from one of heated urgency to a calmer, solid claim. He had a right to be here, to possess her, because she’d granted it. Ariela wanted to feel Dylan’s hard body against hers, but she realized he wasn’t a guy to take without invitation. Even now, if she changed her mind and asked him to stop, he’d do it, no matter how difficult it was to pull back. Confidence in that made her want him even more. This would be an utter surrender, an open agreement with an occupying force.
She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt while he held himself over her, working her top up with one hand.
He looked down, grinning at her impatience. “Just clarifying something here. You’re not interested in me?”
“How many times do I have to te
ll you? At this time, you’re on my banned substances list.” Ariela swept his shirt apart and ran her hands over his chest, squeezing his yummy pecs.
Dylan backed off to give her room. “I think you need to sit up.”
Ariela pulled her top over her head and tossed it to the floor while he unbuttoned his cuffs and slipped out of his shirt, dropping it aside. Finally, both of them bared above the waist they took a minute to truly appreciate what they saw. Ariela broke the spell first by reaching for him. Dylan rode her body down to the cushions.
“I don’t want to crush you.” He shifted onto his side and pulled Ariela in, kissing her while his fingers followed the outer curve of her breast. The kiss deepened as his hand closed around it and Ariela felt herself slipping into an exquisite stupor, her brain function receding even more with every gentle squeeze, every stroke of his tongue along hers.
Then reality intruded.
Ariela covered the hand massaging her breast and stopped him, breaking the kiss at the same time. “This is probably the last chance to ask this before we completely lose our heads, so I have to mention it.” Dylan eased back and looked at her. “Are you safe?” she asked.
“Safe?”
“As in free of infections, STDs ...you know.”
“Definitely. I’ve been very careful. Clean bill of health. How about you?”
She combed the hair back at his temples and smiled. “No worries. I have written proof, if you’re interested.”
Dylan rolled forward and kissed her. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” He nuzzled between Ariela’s breasts then shifted to suck a nipple to a hard point. She groaned with disappointment when he stopped.
“Birth control?” he asked.
“I’m on the pill.”
He sighed with relief, no doubt glad he didn’t have to go foraging for a condom. “Where do you want to go, Ariela?” He swirled his tongue lazily around her areola, watching her suggestively as he did it. Those eyes owned her, no question.
Ariela hesitated. “You’ve been more places than I have. How about you suggest something, be my tour guide?”
Dylan’s grin was as slow as the Cheshire cat’s. “I think I know a few destinations guaranteed to put a smile on your face.” He pressed his pelvis against her and the solid, unmistakable promise of what she felt sent a jolt of lust screaming right through her.