Dylan (Dark Legacy Book 4)

by Jaymin Eve

  I made it all of half a step before his arm snaked around my waist and yanked me back against him. Every damn inch of him. My clothes may as well have been nonexistent for how aware of him I was.

  "I think it's about time we talked things out, don't you?" Dylan's lips were so close to my ear that his breath fanned my skin, and I couldn't hide the shudder of arousal that rolled through me. Six weeks was a long-ass time when I had gotten used to seeing him every two weeks.

  But still... I gritted my teeth and shook my head. I couldn't forget the way he'd lit up when Riley called him that night, and I refused to put myself on the line to have my heart broken. No way. I needed to get the fuck out of this situation before I forgot my resolve completely.

  "Dylan," I snapped, peeling his fingers off my stomach where he held me against him. "I don't want to talk while you're naked. Shower or whatever; I'm going for a walk."

  This time I moved faster, rushing out of the cabin and down the short flight of stairs to the dirt path. I thought I had made a clean break, I really did. But a second later I found myself swept up in a tight hold and tossed over a broad, dark shoulder. A naked shoulder.

  "Dylan!" I shrieked. "What the fuck? You're naked!"

  He just snorted a laugh and jogged back up the steps. I heard a thump as he kicked the door open, then he strode through with me hanging limp over his shoulder like a prize buck he'd just shot.

  "No one is out here, Brooke," he replied with an edge of amusement. "Even if they were, it'd be their own fucking fault for spying on us."

  He dropped me down on the couch, then mercifully reached for his sweatpants. Not before I got a good eyeful of his everything, though.

  Groan. Why did I have to be so goddamn dick-drunk on Dylan Playboy Grant? Why couldn't I have met some nice, normal, available guy that night?

  "This alpha-male behavior isn't cute, Dylan," I lied, licking my suddenly bone-dry lips. "You can't just pick me up and carry me around when I don't do what you want."

  His brows quirked up as he sat down on the couch beside me, hooking his ankle up on his opposite knee, casual as all fuck. "Can't I? I'm pretty sure I can, Brooklyn. Who's going to tell me off?"

  My lips parted in outrage, but he wasn't bluffing. He owned the camp, there was no higher authority than Dylan Grant. I certainly couldn't see any of the other guides or campers calling him on his behavior, and I wasn't exactly going to run crying to my big brother...

  Fucking hell. Blake. That was a pit of darkness I didn't want in my brain right now.

  "Look," Dylan continued with a heavy sigh. "We're overdue a proper conversation, don't you think?"

  My brow wrinkled, and the last remaining scrap of my stubborn pride wiggled its way to the surface. "About what, Dylan? I lied about my name, so what? That's not exactly anything new. People use fake IDs all the time. I'm sorry I never told you, but, you know..." I gave an awkward shrug and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "People make mistakes."

  His eyes locked with mine, and I was helpless to look away. Dammit.

  "I'm not talking about the fact that you lied about your name or your age, although that could have gotten me into a whole world of shit if people had found out I was fucking a seventeen-year-old. Thanks for that, Brooklyn." I cringed, but he continued. "I was talking about the fact that you just walked out of the hotel that night, didn't even say goodbye, then dropped off the fucking earth. You didn't take my calls or return my texts."

  A small part of me was quietly shocked—and delighted—to hear he'd been trying to contact me.

  "I'm sorry," I whispered and bit my lip anxiously.

  His brow furrowed, but it wasn't the venomous glare he'd been directing my way all damn day. This expression was just confused. Concerned, even.

  "What happened, Brooke?" His voice was so gentle it hurt my damn heart. "I was worried about you. Those bruises I saw—"

  "I blocked your number," I blurted out, cutting him off. "I knew I needed a clean break but would be too fucking weak to just say no whenever you told me you were in town, so this time I took the choice away from myself. I blocked your number, then deleted our message threads and..." I trailed off with a shrug.

  "And never looked back, huh?" his tone was edged with bitterness, and his whole body seemed to vibrate with tension. It didn't help that he'd only put sweatpants on, so I could see every movement of his chiseled chest and abs. Holy hell, he was ripped. Like a dark Adonis.

  His accusation stung, though. He had no idea how hard it'd been for me to walk away. None. To him, I was just a casual fuck buddy, an easy lay with no strings attached whenever he was in town. But to me? Fucking hell. Every night I spent with Dylan Grant saw me spiraling harder into something scarily close to love—which was totally off the table when it came to him.

  "I'm sure you have plenty of girls in other cities to keep your bed warm." I swallowed heavily over the acid in that statement. I hated it. I hated seeing him in tabloids with pretty, perfect models on his arm. But worse than that, I hated seeing pictures of the Delta Five together. Always, always, it was Beck and Riley, front and center—the ultimate power couple—and always there was a sadness in Dylan's eyes.

  He didn't respond to my jealous comment, and for a long, painful moment we just sat there in silence, our eyes locked on one another.

  Then he said something I didn't expect. "What if I told you I don’t?"

  I blinked a couple of times, breaking free of his intense stare while I tried to comprehend that question. "Don’t... what? Have other girls?" He nodded, and I shook my head. "Well, then I'd call you a liar. I don't live under a rock, Dylan. Just because I blocked your number doesn't mean I didn't see you in the tabloids. Your parade of supermodels is pretty notorious, you know?"

  My cheeks burned with embarrassment as I said that. What the fuck had he even been doing with me in the first place? I was so... normal and boring. Everything Dylan Grant wasn't.

  He didn't reply immediately. He just took a deep breath, his chest swelling, then let it out slowly.

  "Well, I guess you know everything about me then," he said in a cold, emotionless voice. He pushed up from the couch and moved across the room to the bathroom. He paused there in the doorway a moment, and I thought he was going to say something more. But then he just shook his head and slammed the door between us.

  Moments later I heard the shower start up, and a hot tear rolled down my face. What the fuck had just happened?

  13

  I thought I had time to indulge in self-pity. Not that Dylan usually showered for hours, but he also wasn't super quick. So I let those tears roll down my cheeks, releasing a sliver of the pain I'd been holding tight inside since I'd walked away from him six weeks ago and not even bothering to lift my hand and wipe them away.

  An unnatural exhaustion pressed into me; someone not even nineteen years old shouldn’t feel this defeated. Fuck Blake. And fuck Dylan and his drama.

  "Fuck's sake!"

  I hadn't heard him leave the bathroom—the damn shower was still running, for shit’s sake—but a furious-as-hell Dylan was definitely standing in front of me. I was honestly shocked out of my pity party as I stared wide-eyed at him. "What? Aren't you showering?"

  He crouched in front of me. "I wasn't done, Brooke."

  Again, I was shocked into a stunned confusion. “With your shower?” I asked hesitantly, trying to understand.

  "When you walked out the fucking door, I wasn't done."

  Jesus, was my heart still beating in my chest, or had it jumped right out and hurled itself to the floor? "We were a fling, right?" I managed to choke out. "I was just that random chick you used when you were in town."

  Maybe this guy needed a bit of a reminder before he pushed this new agenda of his too far.

  "No."

  Popping to my feet, I managed to startle him enough that he leaned back a little, and in my fury, I liked that reaction. "You never messaged me once except for sex," I shouted at him. "We went weeks sometimes with
out a single fucking word between us. You never asked me one personal question. Not one." My fury grew with each sentence I spoke. "You are a CEO of one of the most powerful companies in the world, and yet you never took one fucking second to even look into who I was. If you had, you sure as shit would have known I gave you a fake ID. You didn't care enough to look, Dylan, and that says everything about what we were."

  I was breathing deeply, sucking in as much air as I could, while my pulse raced. I'd never let loose like that, not in years, and if I ever said even one of those things to Blake, he would beat the fuck out of me where I stood.

  Oh my God. What did I just do?

  My instinct was to cringe away, and I did, closing my eyes as I waited for a heavy fist to land. My mind screamed at me to run, but running was a waste of energy. The beating always came, no matter what I did to delay it.

  "Brooke!"

  I had the sense that Dylan had been trying to get through to me for many seconds, but in my panic, I'd blocked out everything except the cacophony of fear in my head. My eyes shot open as he said my name again, and I found him right before me, hands on my cheeks as he cupped my face. "I'm so sorry," I gasped out. "Don't hurt me."

  Logically I knew Dylan was the one in front of me, not Blake, but my brother’s face was all I saw as the years of violence surged to the surface.

  "Brooklyn Lawson!" There was command in his voice, but it wasn't as shouty as before. "I will never hurt you, baby. Come back to me. Let go of whatever has you, and get your ass back to me."

  His use of the word baby was the very shock I needed to break myself out of the cycle of abuse and fear I'd found myself in. And as I shook my head, Dylan's face swam back into view, his forehead creased in concern as his gaze ran over my face.

  "Shit, sorry," I cried, trying to pull away so I could hide from him. His grip, while not hurting me, didn't loosen as he held me trapped between his huge hands.

  "What just happened?" Again, he sounded calm, but there was a brewing storm deep in his eyes.

  Since I was still off-kilter, I found myself spilling out information that I never should have given him. "I’ve spent so many years taking his abuse and never speaking up, and I knew if I ever broke and fought back in any way, that he would probably kill me afterward. Then kill anyone I loved, too. I think my body went into shock because I don't usually get confrontational, and... it was survival mode after that."

  "Who?" Dylan snapped, and as his fingers flexed on my cheeks, I flinched. He gentled his hold immediately before he dropped his hands. He didn't let me get away though, one arm sweeping around my waist in a loose hold. I didn't feel trapped, but I also couldn't have gotten away easily.

  "No one," I said. "Not worth you worrying about. I'm fine. I shouldn't have told you that."

  Fucking fuck. What had I been thinking spilling all that shit? I had to get it together because when Blake strolled back into my life, he was not going to accept this fractured version of me who had forgotten the rules.

  "Brooke, you need to tell me now. I can find out, of course—as you pointed out, I have a lot of information at my hands—but I would prefer it came from you."

  If he’d been wearing a shirt, I would have grabbed it at this point. As it was, my hands tried to wrap around his biceps, but they only made it about a quarter of the way around.

  "If you care about me at all, Dylan, you'll let this go. I promise, it's no drama you want part of."

  His eyes drilled into me with their intensity, and I knew there was nothing in this world that could stop him from looking into this now. Nothing.

  Except maybe... I pushed myself up, slamming my lips against his. Opening my mouth, I sucked his lip in and bit down on it gently. "Brooke," he rumbled, and I groaned as his taste flooded my mouth.

  "Dylan, it's been so long," I said, pressing myself harder against him. He still only wore sweats, and they were doing absolutely nothing to hide his growing erection. Now that I'd settled on this new plan of action to distract him, I was all on board with seeing that fucking amazing cock again.

  "We haven't finished talking," he said, but he wasn't pushing me away. If anything, his hands dragged me closer, and when I opened my mouth to him, his tongue clashed with mine. Dylan took control of the kiss, as per usual. He was dominating, and what should have scared me didn't when it came to this man.

  "Give me one more night," I said when he pulled away, and I caught my breath. "I wasn't done either, and it's been a long six weeks."

  Dylan knew what I was doing, but he could also hear the truth in my words. This might be a convenient distraction, but it was also something I wanted with a desperation that took my breath away.

  There was a long pause, and I prayed he would give me a few hours escape from the world. From my world.

  The green in his eyes turned darker, and in a single second, he’d made his decision. I was hauled up into his chest, and we were kissing. I wrapped my legs around his waist and ground against his hard cock.

  "Brooke—" he tried to protest, pulling his lips from mine, even as his arms banded tighter around me. I didn't give him a chance to think any harder about it, though. I badly didn't want him chasing that discussion about my abusive older brother, but more than that, I badly wanted Dylan.

  I'd been fucking kidding myself that I could just cut him out of my life. The idea that I could simply block his number and never look back? Total joke. I'd been weakening just from seeing him in the glossy magazines that Mary liked to read over breakfast. Seeing him here at camp had all but broken my resolve entirely.

  Then he had to go and tell me that I wasn't just a booty call? I mean, he was full of shit; that's exactly what we'd been. But maybe, maybe... he wanted more. Like I did.

  "Dylan, please," I breathed against his lips. "Please, I need you. I need to feel you inside me; don't make me beg..." Or not any more than I already was. Holy hell, I was already soaking and hot, aching for him.

  He didn't make me plead anymore, carrying me through to his bedroom in just a few long strides, then dropping me onto his bouncy mattress. His body blanketed mine, and for a moment my entire world was Dylan's kisses. His lips claimed every single fraction of mine, his tongue tangling in my mouth and utterly stealing my breath from my lungs.

  Kissing Dylan always killed me. He kissed like he was in love, and despite knowing it was an illusion, a figment of my own imagination, I couldn't convince my heart.

  I rolled my hips against him, feeling his huge, hard length crushed against my core. Holy hell, Dylan Grant was blessed in the pants department. I didn't need experience to know that much wasn't the norm.

  He knew what I wanted. He needed it just as much as I did. So in no time at all, he'd stripped me out of my seriously unsexy—yet practical—camp clothes.

  "Brooke," he murmured, kissing his way down my body with worshipping lips. It was barely even dusk, and the lights were all on. For the first time, he could see all of me.

  I cringed when he paused over my left ribs. After almost a week at camp, I still had lingering marks from Blake’s parting gift to me before he left town, not to mention Jonnie’s boot to my side.

  "This conversation isn't over, Brooklyn," he growled against my skin, his green eyes flicking up to spear me with an intense stare.

  For some fucked up reason, that statement just filled me with hope. A hope I had no right to be feeling, so I quickly pushed it aside and shook my head.

  "Yes, Dylan, it is. Now, are you going to fuck me breathless or not? Because I need to come so bad it actually hurts." My cheeks heated at my own assertiveness, but... it was true.

  His full lips curved in a wicked smile, and he placed a deliberate kiss against my lower belly while holding my gaze. Holy hell, that was hot. Then he shifted lower, his fingers parting my folds and his tongue circling my clit.

  "Oh my god," I gasped, breaking eye contact as I tipped my head back. My back arched on reflex, my hips pushing forward into his kiss, and a low moan escaped me as he pu
shed a long finger inside me.

  Dylan hummed against my pussy, making me squirm. "You're so damn responsive, Brooke. You're already so fucking wet for me."

  He added a second finger, fucking me with his hand and mouth until I was a thrashing, moaning mess as I came all over his face. Dylan loved making me orgasm before he fucked me properly, and I suspected it made it easier for his monster cock to get into my tight cunt. I sure as hell wasn't complaining, either.

  Stars twinkled across my vision and my breathing came raggedly. He continued playing with me while my muscles relaxed again, then he was ready to go. He climbed up my body, his thick tip sank into my dripping core, and my legs spread wider to accommodate him.

  "Brooklyn," Dylan murmured as he pushed into me, slow but firm, filling me in the most incredible way that stole any words from my breath. "We're not done with that conversation." He pulled out an inch, then pushed in deeper with a quick thrust. Then another. I cried out with ecstasy as he groaned and his hips met mine. "Not even fucking close."

  I was too far gone to argue. "Okay," I replied on a breathy moan. "Sure. Whatever." Now that he was fully inside me, I wrapped my legs around his body, holding him to me as I writhed under his heavy weight.

  He just huffed a dark chuckle and claimed my mouth in a kiss that perfectly echoed how deeply he was claiming my pussy. Then he started to move, and I knew I was going to come again in no time at all. Six weeks really had been too long; it was like all my nerves were hypersensitive.

  Dylan braced his weight on an elbow beside my head, then gripped my breast in his other hand as he fucked me. Usually, I loved it when he played with my boobs, but this time when he squeezed my nipple, I hissed in pain. Yeah, six weeks had been way too long.

  I didn't need to say anything, though. The pain in my boob was quickly forgotten as my orgasm built once more. Dylan's huge cock stretched me and filled me, my body screaming for more as he moved. My nails bit into the thick muscles of his back, clawing at him as I lost my damn mind.