“Dad stopped home to see us between shifts and started grilling me about school, then Mom came home and was about to do the same thing but they went out for coffee and I ran here.” My weary head fell into his chest as it shook with a laugh.
“Breathe in, baby.” He kissed the top of my head and ran his hands up and down my arms.
“I could have told them.” My hands drifted down his chest. “And I wanted to, but—”
“Things won’t be as easy when we do.” He brushed the hair off my forehead. “I get it, trust me. When the time comes, we’ll do it together. But you’re here, now.” He cradled my face and ran his thumb along my jaw. His crooked smile melted my insides. Sure, we were deferring disaster, but I loved being with him too much to care.
“We’ll worry about that all later. Right now, I made you dinner.” He pulled me by the hand toward his tiny kitchen.
“Ropa Vieja.” I smiled big, psyching myself up to take a couple of bites and gush about how great it was no matter how inedible it turned out. “I can’t wait.”
He growled and pulled me closer. “Say that again.”
“Say what again?” I crinkled my nose at the sudden wave of lust in his eyes.
“You’re so damn sexy when you speak Spanish.”
I wasn’t completely fluent, but I understood enough to hold my own in a conversation. My father’s abuela drilled the correct accent into me before I started kindergarten.
“You’ve heard me speak Spanish before.” My brow crinkled at his hungry gaze.
“And you’re sexy every time.” His dark eyes roamed my body, causing a chill along their path.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said with a laugh, despite the growing weight on my chest.
He was ridiculous, and gorgeous, and … wonderful.
Everything was perfect because we were perfect. Perfect until everyone found out about us. It was hard to enjoy the moment when I didn’t know how to make it last.
Dinner, while the shredded beef needed a little more chewing than usual, was edible enough to eat an entire plate. Dylan planned a perfect dinner complete with a scented candle I suspected he picked up at the supermarket with the meal ingredients. All the little things he did just to make things special for me made my heart swell.
I thanked him by straddling his legs the second he fell back on his couch and attacking his lips.
“Is this my tip?” He laughed against my lips. “I probably shouldn’t mention dessert.” He squeezed my thighs before bringing me closer.
“What’s for dessert?” I pulled my mouth away from his and dropped kisses down his neck. I smiled at the rumble deep in his throat when I licked across his collarbone.
“Chocolate ice cream.” His lips turned up in a sexy grin. “With the brownie bites.”
I attacked his mouth with a bruising kiss, blinded with lust and affection that he remembered my favorite ice cream. Being with someone I’d known for my entire life was both exhilarating and comforting. Knowing him on this intimate level was my every dream come true, but I wanted more. A lot more.
“You are so getting laid, Matthews.” I leaned in to bite his lip but flinched when he pulled away.
“Did I say something wrong?” I shrank back, the sexy spell between us now broken and my rush of excitement deflated.
“No, sweet girl.” He pecked my lips, cupping my cheek before leaning his forehead on mine. “I know this sounds crazy after everything but, I don’t want to … rush that.”
“Rush that?” I squinted at Dylan as I sat up on his lap. On the night of my birthday, only a couple of weeks ago, his mouth and hands had been everywhere. My skin wore the bruises of his touch and his teeth, only fading to yellow patches a week ago. I’d had zero complaints at how far we’d come and how fast, but why was he pumping the brakes now?
“Have you ever done that before? Gone further than you have with me?”
Something about his tone infuriated me. Yes, there was an age difference, but even before we were together, Dylan had never treated me like a child. That was … until this moment.
“What does that matter?” I scoffed and climbed off of his lap. “Right, because I’m a kid.”
“Patricia,” he began with a raised brow. “Why I’m asking doesn’t have anything to do with you being a kid. You haven’t been a kid in my eyes for … quite a long time.” He laughed to himself. “You should know that, at least.”
“But you don’t want to have sex with me?”
His eyes widened as he studied my face as if I’d lapsed into a foreign language. “Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to take you into my bedroom and make love to you until we both pass out. If you haven’t, I need to make sure that when we do, it’s perfect. That’s a big deal to me.”
He leaned over and threaded his fingers into my hair, pulling my face toward his. I felt the burn of his eyes until I met his gaze.
“You and I … we’re intense. We feel a lot, and we’ve gone fast, but I won’t rush that.”
My eyes darted from his, tears still scratching my throat from what felt a lot like a rejection.
“I’m not naïve. I know you’ve had other girls here and—”
“They weren’t you. No one is you. And while I can’t keep my hands off of you most days, I want to wait, for that. And it doesn’t mean you’re just a kid or that I care about you less. I care about you more, so much more.” He lifted me back onto his lap. “Okay?” He kissed my cheek, peppering kisses down to my ear and sucking on my lobe until I let out a giggle.
I nodded, but couldn’t shake the sting. I was ready for everything with Dylan, and although I believed that I meant more to him than anyone who’d come before me, it still felt as if he was keeping me on a long leash. I’d loved him for most of my life, and I was ready to give him everything now. I wanted it just as much as I wanted to tell my family about us.
Being away from Dylan for all that time had been awful but being held back was proving to be even worse.
11
PJ
Two weeks later
“I could get used to this.” Dylan had a wicked glint in his eyes as he shut his front door behind us.
“Used to what?” I peered up at him from where he’d pinned me against the wall. I was sick to my stomach of being “used to” checking our driveway to see if my parents were home and then checking the windows to see if they were looking outside. Going out to dinner and having someone see us was on par with being seen at his house. Even when my parents weren’t around to avoid, we still had to sneak around.
We’d had a beautiful dinner at a great restaurant—over the bridge in New Jersey—and Dylan asked me to come over after. My curfew hadn’t been an issue since turning eighteen, but there was no freedom to it if Dylan had to sneak me back across the street in the wee hours of the morning. Any day, we’d get caught. The maddening anticipation of the other shoe finally dropping had me almost wishing for it.
After almost a month of this annoying game, “becoming used to” was one inch away from becoming “had enough.”
“I like you in my house.” Dylan plopped onto the couch and pulled me onto his lap. I found it difficult to hold onto my irritation when he looked at me like that. His molten eyes would rake over my body, and I’d forget about this secret game we needed to play only to have dinner together.
“You on my lap doesn’t suck either.” He shifted under me and called my attention to exactly how much he liked it.
“That’s a very caveman thing to say.” I lolled my head to the side, my eyes fluttering when he sucked my earlobe into his mouth.
“Because I like you all to myself?” His hands slid under my shirt, his fingers tracing the outline of my bra before pulling it down and cupping my breasts. A shiver ran through me, along with the sting of equating “all to himself” with “where no one can see us.” It reminded me of how thin my patience was, but being with Dylan was so damn good that I forced myself not to care. Or at least forced myself to pretend
not to care.
Before I knew it, I was lifted off his lap and into his arms, our mouths fused together, as he led us into his bedroom. Most of our clothes flew off in a hurry as we wrestled to get as close as possible. We rolled on the bed until I was on top, straddling him as we both chased our breath.
“I want to make you feel good.” I rested my forehead against his before trailing light kisses down his neck. Dylan’s head fell back on the pillow, his laugh vibrating against my lips as I kissed down his chest.
“Patricia,” he groaned as he grabbed my hips and pulled me even closer, the steel of his erection burrowing into my core. “How could you not think you make me feel good?”
I lifted my head, a sheepish smile curving my lips as I met his heated gaze.
“I’ve … done things with other guys—” Dylan’s body stiffened under me as he pressed a finger to my lips.
“I don’t want to hear the rest of that,” he growled.
My eyes rolled as I leaned my elbow on his chest. “If you let me finish, I’ve done things but never wanted to do … well, I want to do everything with you.” I let my hand drift over his waist, inching down to the waistband of his boxers before it dipped inside and palmed his length. His hips bucked off the bed with a gasp.
“I want to taste you. But I’m afraid I’ll be …” I trailed off and bit the inside of my lip. “I’m afraid I’ll be bad at it.”
His eyes widened before he burst out laughing.
“Sweet girl,” he sighed as his thumb drifted across my bottom lip. “There is no way you could be bad at it. I’m ready to blow now, with only you on top of me. Being inside your mouth would be fucking heaven.” His hand slid to the nape of my neck as he brought his mouth back to mine. “Pure.” He kissed the corner of my mouth, flicking it with his tongue before his lips dragged down my chin. My arms quivered against his chest. “Sweet.” One of his hands slid down my back and cupped my ass, the new angle causing delicious friction against my painful and swollen clit. “Heaven.” He brought his lips back to mine with a soft kiss that caught fire. I delved my hand in his hair, whimpering into his mouth as I writhed on top of him. The passion between us intoxicated me. Dylan was my drug and I wanted to stay high on him forever.
I inched my lips down his body, making a path of open-mouthed kisses before I took him into my mouth. With other guys, the thought of doing this always repulsed me, but when I pulled down his boxers and his cock bounced against the ribbed plain of his stomach, my mouth watered. His skin was smooth and shiny, stretching as he grew harder. Having no real frame of reference for what to do other than what I’d overheard from friends and a couple of gifs I’d seen, I sucked and licked up and down his velvet length. I took him deeper into my mouth each time, Dylan’s mumbled groans and whimpers egging me on. I kept my eyes on him, and reveled in how his face twisted in sweet torture. I felt powerful and sexy and maybe even a little skilled. He muttered a curse before grabbing me by the arms and pulling me away.
“So good, baby. So damn good.” His voice was a hoarse whisper as his eyes, dark and enflamed, met mine. His lips and tongue were everywhere, devouring me and torturing me at the same time. My hips bucked off his bed, hoping he’d take the hint and bury himself inside me. I wanted that so badly I almost cried when he settled next to me instead of on top of me.
Here came my second source of unbearable frustration. My virginity was hanging by a thread, but he still wouldn’t take it. He’d explained why, and while I appreciated him making it a big deal, now it was just pissing me off. After all we’d done, and all we were doing, stopping right at the last second every time was grating on my nerves.
He dragged his lips down my neck, over my collarbone, landing on a rigid nipple. The wet friction and the bite of his teeth caused my body to jerk in response.
“Dylan …” I moaned, or … something. The sound came out as a mewl. Where the hell had that come from? Had Dylan just made me mewl? I didn’t know whether to revel in this new development or cringe in humiliation. He did things to my body that made it respond, almost involuntarily, in the strangest ways.
With every fiber of my being, I was ready, and I’d given every signal I could think of other than screaming “Fuck me!” The only reason I didn’t was because I’d be devastated if I actually heard him say no out loud.
“Fuck, PJ,” Dylan growled in my ear as he slid another finger inside me. He pressed his thumb on my clit, causing everything below my waist to quiver of its own accord. As I’d admitted, he wasn’t the first guy to spend time … down there. But Dylan’s hands and lips and tongue were better than I ever could have imagined, and I’d done nothing but imagine it all for what seemed like a lifetime. Of course, Dylan really didn’t need any skill to turn me on; he only needed to be there. Hell, just the thought of him did it. He didn’t even have to be anywhere near me, but I loved that he was.
“So wet, so tight,” he whispered in tortured reverence as he kissed down my naked chest and grasped my nipple between his teeth. I mewled again, as I squirmed against him, the pressure and tingling from too many nerve endings rendering me unable to lay still. I covered my eyes, not knowing what the hell to do with all this glorious sensation.
“Hey,” Dylan reached up to peel my hands off my face, his other hand still working its magic between my legs. My eyes opened and met his, the golden color of his irises dark and feral. “You’re close, aren’t you baby?”
I nodded, unable to voice a reply, tears gathering in the corners of my eyes as I finally understood the phrase “pleasure to the point of pain.” I throbbed around his fingers as I let out an inhuman cry. I’d never known an orgasm to be anything more than a release of pressure, but that was by my own hand. In the time Dylan and I had been together I’d learned it had the potential to be part seizure, part avalanche. I bucked against his hand as I rode out every wave, our mouths crashing together in a hungry, desperate kiss.
My breathing slowed before I fell back on the mattress, boneless and sated like a happy noodle. As all of the concern weighing on me dissipated, if only for a sweet moment, I giggled to myself and sighed into his pillow.
“I love you,” I breathed before my eyes flew open in panic. I jerked off the bed in a panic, unable to run as my underwear fell to mid-thigh, shortening my steps. I reached for Dylan’s T-shirt crumpled on the floor and pulled it over my head.
He didn’t move or react, scrutinizing me as he lay on his bed, leaning on one elbow looking so damn gorgeous and edible. My eyes fell on the sinewy plane of his chest, the chiseled arms, the dusting of hair under his abs that lead to my new favorite place on Earth. And I died inside at the thought that three words said without forethought might have ruined the delicate balance of whatever this was.
“Look,” I blurted out while pulling my panties back on. “You don’t have to say it back, feel free to pretend you never heard it. I’m hungry, are you hungry? I think I could go for that kettle corn I saw in the kitchen the other day.”
Dylan grabbed my wrist and pulled me back onto the bed.
“I love you in my clothes.” His hand drifted down the short sleeve and over my bare hips, goosebumps trailing his touch. “I love when you ramble when you get excited or nervous or mad. Although I like excited the best.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “I love your freckles.” He planted tiny kisses across my cheeks. I’d told him to forget what I said, but I couldn’t deny it. I was in love. Deep, all-consuming, and terrifying—but it was the honest truth.
His smile faded as he pulled me closer. “And I love you, Patricia Jane, so fucking much, and I don’t want to pretend I didn’t hear you say it.”
My eyes filled with tears as I sank my teeth into my bottom lip to keep it from quivering. “I’m needy, and it’s pissing me off.” I cradled his face and kissed across his cheek until I landed back on his lips.
“I like when you’re needy. As long as you’re only needy with me.” He yanked me closer with a possessive gleam in his eyes.
�
�Only you. It’s always only ever been you.” I gulped as I cupped his cheek. “I hate the sneaking around. I want to tell everyone,” I whispered as I cuddled into Dylan’s chest.
“Me too, which is why I told Jack we were driving up to see him soon.”
My head whipped to his. “You did?”
“Yes. I hate sneaking around, too. You’re mine, and everyone needs to know.” He gave me a slow kiss and rolled on top of me.
“And they need to know right now. I’ve waited long enough.”
12
Danielle
“Next week?”
I rolled my eyes as my head fell back on my desk chair.
“Sure, I’ll let you know.”
“Right,” my friend Jessenia huffed on the other line. “That’s Danielle code for ‘it’s no, but I don’t want to have this conversation anymore.’ All you do is work, and it takes three days for you to return a text, and then it’s a thumbs up emoji or a k. You know that irks the shit out of me.”
I laughed, wishing I could, or wanted to, give her the answer she was looking for each week. For almost a year, I’d avoided everyone, friends and family, although my brother gave me no choice but to speak to him when he called. I’d tried avoiding him, too, right after the divorce, until he’d showed up at my job, refusing to leave unless I spoke to him.
The urge to be alone didn’t mean that I didn’t miss Jessenia or my other friends or that they wouldn’t wholeheartedly support me—if I’d let them. At first, I was just embarrassed as all hell for being taken for such a fool, and then I’d retreated so far into myself that I lost the desire and the know-how to be social. Most of my friends had stopped contacting me, but Jess wouldn’t let it go. I both looked forward to and dreaded the day that she did.
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