Chapter 41 Dress
Dress
Dylan
Dylan grabbed his duffle from the overhead bin the second the seatbelt light dinged off, muttering a quick thanks to the flight attendant as he moved toward the front of the plane. His heart was already racing, thumping out a beat that had nothing to do with altitude.
He cleared the jet bridge and headed straight for the rental car counter, weaving through the sleepy little Savannah airport with practiced efficiency. Cap low, hoodie up, head down.
No lingering. No stopping. Just get through, get to the car, get to—
Then he saw her.
Bright pink. Wavy blonde curls. Bottom lip caught between her teeth as she scanned the arrivals area like she was searching for someone who might already be looking at her.
Dylan froze mid-step.
Ali.
His chest tightened, and a grin broke across his face before he could stop it. That was her. She was here. Waiting for him.
And holy hell—those shoes.
His gaze dropped automatically, eyes widening at the sight of her short legs wrapped in strappy, towering, six-inch sandals that did things to him he wasn’t prepared for in public.
His girl who hated heels. His girl who once tripped wearing kitten wedges at a semi-formal and declared “gravity is a myth perpetuated by thin people.”
She was in full Barbie bombshell mode. He was semi-hard from thirty feet away.
She had to have borrowed them from Abigail. Had to. No way she owned shoes like that.
But she was wearing them. For him.
And that made him want to do very, very unholy things the second they were alone.
Then she spotted him.
Her eyes locked on his, wide and shining and full of something that hit him straight in the damn chest.
She looked like she was about to run—like she wanted to—but then her gaze flicked downward, just for a second, and he saw the exact moment she remembered the heels.
Ali Presley in six-inch sandals wasn’t built for a sprint. But damn if she didn’t start a determined fast-walk anyway, like she couldn’t stand one more second of distance between them.
It was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.
And it completely undid him.
Dylan didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. He took off—breaking into a sprint across the terminal floor, ignoring the curious looks and the startled airport staff and the fact that he was definitely going to get stopped by security if he kept this up.
She barely had time to gasp before he was there, dropping his duffle with a thud, cupping her face in his hands, and crashing his mouth against hers like he’d been starving for it.
Ali melted into him, arms winding tight around his shoulders, her body going soft and desperate in all the ways he loved.
He grabbed her hips, lifting her effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist like it was second nature. Like she’d been waiting for this moment as long as he had.
“Hi,” she whispered between kisses, breathless and a little teary.
Dylan held her tighter. “Hi, baby.”
And then he kissed her again—right there in the middle of baggage claim, with her legs around him and her shoes dangling and the world spinning a little too fast.
He kissed her like it had been years. Like he hadn’t just seen her face on FaceTime last night or heard her sleepy voice that morning. Like she was oxygen and he’d been drowning since the moment he boarded that plane.
Ali’s legs tightened around his waist, her lips still parted, breath shallow against his cheek.
They might’ve stayed like that forever—wrapped up in each other, floating above the marble floors of the Savannah airport—if not for the soft but firm sound of someone clearing their throat.
Dylan blinked and turned his head slightly.
A security guard stood a few feet away, hands politely folded in front of him, a mildly guilty look on his face like he hated to ruin the moment.
“Afternoon, sir,” the guard said gently. “Ma’am. Sorry to interrupt, but…if you could just, uh, move things along? We’re still in a public area.”
Dylan felt Ali’s body jolt with a tiny laugh against his chest.
He nodded quickly, adjusting his grip on her and lowering her back to the ground—carefully, mindful of those skyscraper heels.
“Right,” Dylan said, clearing his throat and giving the guy an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”
“No trouble,” the guard replied with a barely-there grin. “Just… maybe save the leg-wrapping for the parking lot.”
Ali buried her face in Dylan’s chest, clearly mortified. He just laughed, tugging her in close with one arm while grabbing his duffle with the other.
“Come on, trouble,” he whispered into her hair. “Let’s get you outta here before I forget there are laws.”
Dylan merged onto I-16 with one hand on the wheel and the other resting casually on Ali’s thigh, his thumb brushing over the hem of her dress.
She hadn’t stopped talking since they pulled out of the airport parking deck, and he wasn’t complaining.
He’d missed her voice. The way it sped up when she was excited.
The way she waved her hands around—even when buckled in—to really emphasize a point.
“…and then Ashley said it wasn’t that deep, but Abigail nearly launched her Kindle across the room because apparently it was that deep, and now we all have to reread the chapter with fresh eyes,” Ali said, gesturing wildly.
“Anyway, I think we’re picking a new book next week, but we’re split between a dark academia murder thing or something spicy with pirates, which feels like emotional whiplash but also kind of on brand for us? ”
Dylan smiled, keeping his eyes on the road but soaking up every word. “Spicy pirates, huh?”
“I mean, it’s probably just pirate-adjacent,” she said with a shrug. “Like, seafaring rogues with a trauma kink and a moral compass buried somewhere under the tattoos.”
He huffed a laugh. “You sound into it.”
“Look, I’m not saying I have a type…” She shot him a sidelong glance and smirked. “But if you got a gold earring and a ship, I wouldn’t hate it.”
“I’ll make a few calls. I bet Captain Rip could hook me up” he teased, giving her thigh a squeeze.
She giggled and leaned her head back against the seat, her curls catching the sunlight streaming through the windshield. “God, I missed you.”
He glanced over at her, heart squeezing in his chest. “Missed you more.”
She reached out and toyed with the sleeve of his t-shirt.
“Also, Abigail and Jason completely cleared my schedule today and told me to take the whole day off. I was just going to do a half day, but they bullied me out the door and told me to go get a blowout. Then Ab threatened me with emotional violence if I showed up at work today.”
“She’s solid,” Dylan said.
“She is. So I was thinking…” Ali lit up again, turning in her seat. “We should take her a six-pack of Diet Cokes as a thank you. She’s still holding a grudge over Kellan hiding hers in the garage that time, so I feel like it’ll hit. Grab a Starbies for Jason.”
“Done,” Dylan said easily. “Want to write her name on each can in Sharpie like an offering?”
Ali laughed, reaching over to squeeze his arm. “I love you.”
“I know,” he said with a grin, kissing the back of her hand. “You told me.”
They stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind them with a soft thud.
Ali bent down, already reaching for the ankle strap of one of the sandals Abigail had loaned her—six-inch torture devices, no matter how cute they looked.
But Dylan’s hand shot out, catching her wrist.
“Don’t,” he said, voice low and rough behind her.
She straightened slowly, brows lifting. “Don’t what?”
He looked her up and down, and the heat in his gaze was enough to make her knees wobble—especially in the damn heels.
“Don’t take them off,” he said again, stepping closer. “It would be a crime to get you out of that dress before I’ve had you in it. And those shoes?” His voice dipped darker. “Baby, I’ve been semi-hard since the airport. You’re not going anywhere.”
Her breath caught. “They’re not even mine.”
“I don’t give a fuck if they belong to Abigail, Cinderella, or the Queen of England,” he murmured, crowding her gently against the wall. “I want them on when I make you scream.”
Her stomach flipped. “Dylan…”
He kissed her then—deep, hungry, full of that quiet desperation they’d been sitting in for weeks. His hands slid down her waist to the curve of her ass, fingers digging in as he pressed her back, hips already tight against hers.
“You feel how much I missed you?” he whispered, grinding just enough to make her gasp. “You know how crazy I’ve been thinking about this body? About you?”
Her fingers tangled in the front of his shirt, anchoring herself. “You’re not playing fair.”
He kissed along her jaw, down to her throat, dragging his mouth slow and hot. “Wasn’t planning to.”