3. Dillan
3
DILLAN
M y dick roars with excitement at the idea of feeling her smooth skin under my fingertips. I want to see her mouth open when pleasure leaves her speechless, and more than anything, I want to be the man who ignites that ecstasy in her. I want to hear the soft sigh escaping her lips when I lick her clit, and I’m eager for my name tumbling from her lips when she comes under me.
The energy between us is even more intense than it was when we were younger.
She’s glowing.
Pulling her into that kiss had been an impulse reaction.
While I could have easily just slid my arm around her to put on the innocent show she’d begged for, I couldn’t help myself.
Her lips had been far too inviting.
Don’t get me wrong, I left plenty of room for her to pull away if she liked—but deep down, I wanted to leave no doubt in her mind that she was there with one man, and one man only. Me .
It worked—except I didn’t expect my decision to backfire.
That one kiss gripped me, body and soul.
“Remember how you called me the hottest guy in school?” I chuckle after I hand my keys to the valet, who rushes off to get my car.
Lizzie’s eyes go wide. “Oh, my God. You remember that? Why do you remember that, of all things?”
“Lizzie, no guy could forget that. I strutted around like a king for weeks after, but hey, let’s keep it between us, all right?”
“Got it! No rumors, no leaks, top-secret status granted—not a word will escape these lips.”
At the mention of her lips, my gaze instinctively drops, lingering momentarily on the curve and softness that has become an irresistible attraction.
Desire washes over me, and my hand twitches, aching to touch her.
Elizabeth Moore had definitely been pretty when we were younger, but now she’s absolutely stunning. The infectious energy she creates, her wit, and those big brown eyes make a zesty, compelling match. Her boldness and radiant presence do the rest.
Luckily, the valet pulls up, and I hand him a twenty before I open the door for Lizzie. “After you,” I say. I don’t miss the way she gracefully slides into the passenger seat. Her movements are those of a dancer: graceful, controlled and in tune with her body.
This night is going to be fun. Real fun.
“There’s a hotel not too far from here,” I say once I join her and start the car. “It’s a great place. You’re going to love it.”
The idea of taking her to a hotel isn’t ideal. This is Lizzie. We have a history. But my apartment is forty-five minutes away, and it isn’t fully furnished yet. Various moving boxes are still lying around, and there are other things that needed to be done, even though I’ve been here a couple of weeks now.
Lizzie eyes me with a curious expression. “Why are we going to a hotel?”
“Apartment is still being renovated and isn’t ready yet,” I answer her question.
Likely suspecting as much, Lizzie smiles. “A hotel it is then.”
I peel out of the parking lot, weaving easily onto the main road as the engine roars. We continue to catch up on old times. Our school, teachers, mutual friends—none of which I kept up with after my parents and I moved. She brings up a movie she recently watched that inspired her dress choice and a funny show I don’t know. With my schedule, I hardly have time to watch TV anymore. Still, I enjoy the sound of her voice while we can’t help but share glances, that intense heat from our shared kiss still buzzing between us. We both know exactly how this evening is going to end, and my mind is spinning with all the things I plan to do to her body.
After all, we have a lot of time to make up for.
Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I take a brief second to admire her profile while she’s talking about a sewing project for her dance performance at work, then stops. There’s a slight pinch to her eyebrows, and she’s fidgeting, which makes me wonder if she’s having second thoughts.
“You all right?” I ask when there’s a lull in her story.
“Yeah.” She lifts one shoulder. “Just a little nervous.” She tries a chuckle.
“Would you like me to take you home?”
“No, please don’t.” She smiles and reaches over, resting her hand on my knee.
I speed up.
T he hotel’s parking lot is packed, so I zoom through it toward the main entrance, where a bellman waits to greet us. The hotel is one I use for overnights on a regular basis, especially with the renovations going on. It’s close to my job and a great place to crash when I have an early delivery the next morning. I hand him the keys and a tip before slipping my arm around Lizzie’s waist.
People fill almost every corner of the lobby, so we have to wait to check in. My gut instinct is to skip to the front of the line, discreetly pass them a few bills, and expedite the process. Somehow, though, I don’t think Lizzie will appreciate the gesture. My past dalliances would have, but from past and present interactions with Lizzie, I know she wouldn’t. In the back of my mind, I have a foggy memory of a much-younger version of her snapping at a classmate who tried to jump ahead in line.
Playfully, I suggest, “You want us to try and skip?”
“No!” She looks outraged, then grins when she gets that I’m teasing her. “Absolutely not,” she adds with a playful eye roll. “We’ll survive the wait—I hope.”
It makes me smile, and I draw her closer. “I’ll do my best to ensure everyone makes it through the wait alive.”
Lizzie leans into my side. “I’ll put my faith in you, Dr. Maxwell.”
She hasn’t changed a single bit. It’s nice how right she feels tucked against me. We were once tucked together in a similar fashion as we sat on a soft couch, with loud music blaring all around us. I wanted her then too. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on our side that night.
“Careful there!” A little boy kicks a ball against my leg, prompting us to pivot around. I casually kick the blue ball back to the kid, and he catches it and grins cheekily before storming off. A haggard-looking man chases after him, pausing briefly to say, “I’m sorry!” in an exhausted tone, the weariness evident in his voice. “Come here, little man.”
“You sure you don’t want kids?” Lizzie asks. “You seem to have a knack for them!”
I shake my head. “Oh, I’m sure.”
“Come on, that little ball-kicking incident proves you’ve got some hidden talent!” Lizzie snickers, and we watch the man chase after his son. “But the poor guy looks so tired.”
“Him or the kid?” I arch a brow in question.
“Him.”
“Kids will do that to you,” I tell her.
“I guess.” She laughs, regarding the kid in a gregarious manner. “But he’s so cute. His chubby cheeks!”
The man manages to catch the boy, which sends the little one into a screaming fit. Undeterred, the man carries the boy with his blue ball back to where the rest of the family is waiting. His equally tired-looking wife cradles an infant in one hand, while trying to pull a suitcase with the other.
“He is cute, but I love my sleep too much.”
Lizzie shrugs, watching the small family just as I am. “Hmm, I don’t know about that. Maybe it’s worth it, you know? Having a little person that’s the perfect mix of two people who love each other dearly.”
The husband and wife share a brief look, leaning into each other for support as they head toward the elevators.
“So I’ve heard.”
In that moment, I’m grateful that it hasn’t come up yet that I’m an OBGYN. Not that I’m hiding it, but there have been too many times in the past where I voiced my desire to remain kid-free, only to have a smartass ask me why I decided to get into the line of work I have. I’m not in the mood to explain that the two aren’t mutually exclusive.
I deliver babies for a living, and I like it. I enjoy my line of work. Watching families being created or expanded is something I can’t put into words. That being said, I can’t see myself having any children of my own or going through that experience myself. I never have, to be honest. Helping others achieve that desire is perfect for me. I’m not missing anything.
“One room for one night,” I tell the agent once we step up to the desk. “Presidential Suite.”
Next to me, I feel Lizzie stiffen, and when I give her an inquisitive look, she leans in and whispers, “That’s so expensive. A standard room is fine.”
“No, it’s not.” I hand the front desk clerk my credit card. “If we’re going to spend the night in a hotel, I want us to enjoy as many comforts as we can get.”
She studies me for a moment with an expression I can’t quite read. It’s gone a second later. She tightens her hold on me and rests her cheek against my shoulder.
“You sure you’re not just trying to impress me?” she asks with a playful smirk.
“It’s entirely possible.” I watch her cheeks flush pink with delight. We’re handed our keys, and I lead her to the elevator.
T he second the elevator door closes, her mouth is on mine, her hands exploring.
All right.
Instantly, I’m intoxicated by her. Lips locked, we stumble into our suite.
Lizzie gasps the moment I break free to close the door behind us.
“This suite is huge ,” she exclaims.
Not giving a damn about the room, I grab her hips, and pull her back to my chest, reveling in the way her body lines perfectly against mine. Lizzie lets out a quiet little moan against my mouth the moment my lips are back on hers, the sound of it shooting straight to my dick. She slides a hand into my hair, fingers curling around the strands and searching for something to ground herself.
The way her tongue meets mine is thrilling, and we battle to see who will gain the upper hand. Eventually, I win (naturally), deepening the kiss and tasting her fully.
In our excitement, we bump into the end table by the huge windows.
“Oh! Champagne!” Her eyes twinkle with anticipation.
I chuckle, steadying the table with a casual move. “Looks like we found a pleasant surprise. Care to indulge?”
“Always.”
When we break apart, my body protests the loss of warmth, but I have all night to rip her dress off, and discover every part of that beautiful body.
The bottle opens with a satisfying “pop.”
“I can’t believe you reserved it for one night.” She takes a look around. It’s a lavishly decorated living room, an assortment of gourmet chocolates and complimentary fruit basket with strawberries already waiting for us on the coffee table. The view over an expansive cityscape stretches before us, a breathtaking panorama of shimmering lights. “I’ve never been up so high before. It’s like a sea of stars!”
I enjoy taking in the stunning view with her by my side. “It never gets old,” I mutter, the city lights laid out below us.
When I sip the champagne, I barely taste it, watching in amusement as Lizzie downs half the glass in one gulp. She’s nervous. It’s my job to change that, not the champagne’s.
“I haven’t had champagne in years,” she admits. “I’m going to enjoy it while I can.”
“Not even on New Year’s Eve?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. I always have to work on holidays, so I don’t really have time to drink.”
“Dancing on holidays? I knew you were committed, but that’s a whole new level.”
Lizzie doesn’t respond to my remark. Instead, she wanders the room, sipping her champagne, running her fingers over the couch pillows. Her silence is strange. I sense I’ve said something that bothered her, but I can’t fathom what it is.
I enjoy my own glass, observing her stepping through the door that leads to the bedroom. Arching her back gracefully, she offers me her brilliant smile, motioning for me to join her.
After a second, I follow.