25. Chapter 25 Fantasy vs. Forever
Jenna: December
For weeks, we’ve been sneaking around, nearly getting caught by my coworkers… by Izzy. I keep telling myself, just one more day. Just one more mistake. I can’t let the best man I’ve ever known walk away. I need to see where this leads.
The office is noisy with tools clattering and coworkers gossiping. My eyes drift to Dylan, perched on a ladder in the next room. The way his jeans fit, the flex of his muscles—it’s distracting in the worst and best possible ways.
I grab my phone, unable to help myself.
Me: Your ass looks really good in those jeans. And how you hold that tube thingy… How am I supposed to stay professional here?
He checks his phone, then glances down at me, smirking.
Dylan: Hahaha, it’s called a sealant repair gun.
Me: Tomato. Tomahto. Orange. Coconuts. Same thing.
Dylan: Did you read chapter seventeen yet? Are all the books you read this pornographic or murderous?
Me: No way! You read it? I stayed up until 2 A.M. and devoured it. Also, Boner Dong, our bulldog puppy, kept me up all night crying. Poor guy probably misses his family. And FYI, it’s not porn. It’s a thriller with a smidge of schmexy smut.
Dylan: I guess Ava’s name won! Best dog name ever. And best home any puppy could ever ask for.
My fingers hover, teasing.
Me: You know that sexy chapter where the tension burned so slow… so good? It had me drenched, screaming your name along with the women in the book… wishing it was your big, curvy…
Send. Across the room, Dylan stumbles on the ladder, then steadies himself.
Dylan: You’re killing me with these hard-ons. Maybe you need a new vibrator.
Me: I don’t think they make vibrators as good as your curvy cock. And rock-hard and smiling are my two favorite ways of thinking about you.
Dylan: That’s it. Lunch is on you today. Same place. Same time. My cock deep in your throat. And if you’re good, I’ll take you somewhere out of this world.
I let out a laugh and quickly look around to see if anyone noticed.
Me: Is that a promise? Because I wouldn’t mind getting lost on Planet Dylan again.
The way he climbs down that ladder, eyes locked on mine, I know exactly where he’s headed. I retreat to my office for more privacy, but before I make it, Izzy bursts in. All energy. All eyes. Bad timing.
“You never replied to my message,” she says, plopping down on my chair. “And Mr. Tall, Dark, and Tempting over there told me about your first customer with his sister. Too busy now planning baby showers and weddings?”
I wince, feeling a little shitty. “Sorry, my favorite friend. I totally forgot to respond.”
Oh, you know—and I’ve been busy juggling my double life.
“You weren’t arrested again, right?” I tease, standing by the doorway.
Her eyes widen. “Let’s not talk about that.” She waves it off. “But I have another event for you to plan. My funeral.”
I roll my eyes. “Not funny.”
“Fine, my birthday.” She sighs. “But it might as well be my funeral. I’m old.”
“You’re turning forty and in better shape than most twenty-five-year-olds.”
She shrugs. “Maybe. But I’m serious. You’re really good at this stuff.”
I half smile, unable to say no. “Looks like my schedule got a whole lot busier.”
She tilts her head, eyeing me a little too hard. “So, where have you been disappearing off to for lunch these days? You’ve been ditching me a lot.”
Her tone’s light, but her eyes don’t match.
I force a laugh, walking towards my desk. “Just errands. Target runs. The girls’ school always has last-minute spirit week stuff or random projects. They act like parents have unlimited time.”
She raises a brow. “You sure you’re not having midday margaritas without me?”
I exhale, relieved she’s letting it go. “If only. Tomorrow, lunch is on me. You pick the spot.”
“Deal.” She leans back, still watching me.
At lunch, I slip away for another “Target run” with Dylan at the same hidden spot near the bridge again.
But today he has other plans. Before I can protest, he pulls me into his truck, and we go for a ride.
We end up at Piercy Lake for another stolen moment carved out from real life.
It’s all we have. Fleeting. Fragile. And yet, somehow, it feels like everything… and still, never enough.
Sunlight flickers off the water as Dylan strips off his shirt, his muscles flexing under his sun-kissed skin. He then flings it aside like a damn Chippendales dancer at a bachelorette party, already working on his jeans.
“Trust me?” He smirks.
“Absolutely not,” I say, crossing my arms, leaning against a rock.
“How about you drop the ‘not,’ and take a cold plunge with me… naked?”
“You’re insane!” I shout, covering my eyes.
He grins, tugging at his waistband. “You’re way too clothed.”
Before I can protest, he dives into the lake, water splashing everywhere. “Come on,” he calls out. “Live a little!”
Thunder rumbles, and a raindrop kisses my skin. Dylan runs a hand through his hair, eyes locked on me, waiting.
My heart pounds. My mind screams no. But my body moves anyway.
I strip down to my bra and underwear as I sprint to the water. The lake bites my thighs, stealing my breath. Then Dylan is there, pulling me against him, his heat burning through the chill rushing down my spine.
“Fuck, you look so good wet.” His voice is husky and teasing.
The rain falls harder as his fingers curl around my waist, and his lips crash into mine, melting the cold and the world away. The kiss is explosive. Desperate. Like it’s our only chance to be together.
He lifts me from the water, drenched and breathless. I shiver, not from the cold, but from the fire he ignites inside me every single time he touches me. I let go and wrap myself around him as he carries me back to his truck.
Dylan cranks the heat and slips his sweater over my head. It’s warm, oversized, and smells like him—like comfort and danger wrapped in cotton. I wish I could take it home and keep it forever. I curl into the seat, turning some music on while he gets our clothes and a lunch cooler.
He settles next to me, and we just talk.
“How’s your dad?” I ask softly, hesitating. I don’t want to push, but he hasn't talked much about him since the heart attack.
“Better,” he says, biting into his apple. “The doctors say he’ll recover, but he has to quit drinking. Amelia wants me to take her to see him.” His eyes flicker to mine, guarded. “And we’ve been spending more time together. For so long, it was only Gabriella. Now—”
“It’s like you have your family back,” I cut in, gripping his hand.
His expression tightens, then softens. “Yeah,” he admits.
“It’s like I’ve got part of them back. But seeing my dad hooked up to those machines…
seeing the sadness in my sister’s eyes again…
it hit me hard. I can’t keep holding onto all this anger.
” His voice dips lower. “And I want to be better. For you.”
“No, Dylan. It shouldn't be for me,” I say, shaking my head. “But I’m happy for you. Really.”
He smirks. “You know, lunch is getting out of hand. Since when do we talk more than we make out?” he teases, leaning in. Then his hand glides under my sweater, igniting a slow, burning fire I don't know how to put out.
And we kiss like reckless teenagers.
I pull back, smiling. “I haven’t forgotten your grocery list text. Still waiting to see what you do with a leash.”
He chuckles, low and daring. “Just say the word, gorgeous. And I’ll tie you up and dominate you anytime,” he says, before his grin turns serious. “Real talk for a minute?”
I blink, caught off guard. “Real talk? What man chooses that over sex talk?”
“This man,” he mutters. “I love talking to you. And that you trust me enough to let me in, even when it’s hard.”
I hesitate, my guard slipping a little. “Okay. I’m terrified to go home after I’ve been with you. I’ve never lied to Jacob. Not about anything that really mattered… until you. Now, I don’t know where this is going. I feel guilty. Excited. Awful. Happy. And everything in between.”
His gaze locks onto mine with intensity behind his eyes. “You think this is easy for me? Knowing you go home to him every night?”
I part my lips to speak, but he’s not done yet.
“I’m not mad. I know what this is, Jenna.
But fuck…” His voice dips lower. “I haven’t been with another woman since we started this thing between us.
And it’s not because I can’t. It’s because I don’t want to.
And it’s fucking hard when I know he still gets to touch you and kiss you whenever the hell he wants. ”
The confession makes my heart ache. I reach for his hand. “Dylan, I’m so—”
“Don’t,” he murmurs. “No apologies. You’re his wife. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Especially not you.” He pulls me closer, onto his lap.
“Cheesy or not, I’ve never felt a stronger connection with anyone else,” he says, his voice steady. “There’s a reason we crossed paths, and I can’t walk away. I won’t... unless you tell me to.”
His words crawl under my skin, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to let him go. Jacob may have my body and a piece of my heart, always. But Dylan? He has my heart and my soul.
“Remember when you told me you’ve been carrying something so heavy, it almost feels like it's become a part of you?” I say, looking up at him. “That if you let it go, you wouldn’t know who you are anymore?”
His eyes meet mine, dark and full of understanding. He’s been there. He’s still there. “Yeah. I remember.”
“You’re not the only one with a past that haunts you,” I confess, shifting from one heavy conversation to the next. “Sometimes, I wonder if I’ve been broken for so long that I don’t know how to let go of those parts anymore.”
But that’s what I am, right? Broken.
He stays quiet. I know he carries his own scars. He doesn't have to say them. It’s an unspoken language we both understand, like two people trapped in prisons of their past.