Chapter Two
Dylan
As I slipped away from the backyard, my body felt like a stone block and my mind like a fucking live wire. I traipsed through the Alexander’s home, determined to walk straight out the front door and never look back.
There were only three things I’d ever wanted in life. A professional hockey career. My parents to stay together. And Jamie Hartley to be mine.
The first two were long gone. Jamie was the only hope I’d had left.
My foot hit the tile of the front hall. The door and my escape were just steps away.
I stopped.
If I left before they served the cake, before saying goodbye to Hunter, I’d only be cementing my status as the terrible father they all assumed I was.
There was enough of that shit going around already. I didn’t need to be the one adding to it.
Instead of continuing toward the door, I made a sharp turn and headed for the bathroom.
A minute alone, that’s all I needed. A fucking minute to figure out how the fuck I’d ended up in this situation, when Jamie was the one who’d run away, taken my son to another city and hidden from me.
I’d done everything right. Spent years trying to prove I was worth coming back to.
Busted my ass at school while working two shitty part-time gigs.
Volunteered in the community before it was ever part of my job description.
Joined the police force. Sent child support checks, each one bigger than the last. Done my damnedest to turn myself into someone worthy of being in her life and our son’s.
None of it had been enough. Once I found her, she’d kept me at arm’s length, in every way but one—in bed, we’d still been as fiery as ever. That’s what had given me hope.
Right up until Eric came along.
Now all I had was accusations and heartache.
Married. She was getting fucking married.
I didn’t even get the bathroom door latched before someone was tapping on it.
“Can we talk?” a woman cooed from the other side. Her sickly-sweet voice was the kind used on babies and small pets. Fucking nauseating.
I yanked the door open to find Eric’s sister, Celeste, looking at me like I was a wounded animal she’d been sent to rescue.
“Are you all right?”
From the day I’d met her, she’d fixated on me in a way that made no sense. With everyone else she was an angry tornado. With me, all that energy narrowed into something obsessive. Something that followed me down hallways and wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone.
“I’d be better if I could take a piss.”
“Oh, I thought you might be upset. I saw your reaction to the news. It must be difficult for you.”
Difficult. She had no idea.
“Why are you here, Celeste?”
“I thought maybe I could help make you feel better.” The words were suggestive, and so was the look that went with them. Both were out of place, and way out of line.
I didn’t know her angle, but I didn’t like it. Not only was she making it far too easy, but she was married. I’d done a lot of dirty things in my life—filthy, underhanded, thrilling things—but screwing around with a married woman had never been one of them.
Although…doing Eric’s sister would be a pretty spectacular way to get back at him.
“How exactly did you plan to make me feel better?” I kept my arms crossed and voice flat.
She smiled like she didn’t catch the hint. “Whatever you’d like.”
“What I’d like…” I leaned in and let her squirm in silence for a bit. “Is for you to turn around and go back to the party. Maybe offer your services to your husband. John, isn’t it?”
Her smile died.
“He seems like a nice guy. Had a chat with him earlier. Wouldn’t want to talk to him after this, though.” I held her gaze. “That might be awkward. For you.”
She jerked away, her usual scowl taking over.
“Can I take a leak now?”
With a huff, she turned and stormed off, her hair flinging out behind her like a final fuck you.
Muffled laughter echoed from the opposite direction. I peered around the doorway to see a tall, slender brunette with a hand over her mouth, failing to hold back her amusement.
“I’m sorry.” She dropped her hand, revealing a gorgeous smile and a light, sexy Québécois accent. “That was kind of embarrassing, wasn’t it?”
Who was this woman? And how the hell had I missed her?
“Embarrassing for who?” I returned her smile.
“Well, obviously not you.” She moved a step closer, her voice carrying an unintentional seduction that was one hundred percent effective. “You handled her like a pro. Kudos for not being a sleaze bag.”
“Who says I’m not a sleaze bag?” I leaned against the doorframe and kept my expression neutral, even as I took my time looking her over. Her body deserved more than a passing glance.
“Trust me.” Her smile turned mischievous. “I’ve met plenty. None would have turned down what she was offering.”
“Maybe I was just waiting for a better offer to come along.” I smirked, and it almost felt natural.
“Ah, so you’re a sleaze bag with standards?” She laughed again, her hazel eyes sparkling. “Who are you?”
“You first. You’re the one slinking around corners playing spy.”
“Well, you caught me, so I must be a shitty spy.” She shifted closer, hooking her thumb in the direction Celeste had gone. “I’m a cousin of that one. My name’s Chanté.”
“Chanté. Like enchanté?” I focused on her gorgeous name, instead of her unfortunate relation. She was cousins with Celeste and Eric, two of my least favorite people. What were the fucking odds?
“No, chéri, nothing delightful or enchanting about me. Just Chanté for short, my full name’s Chantel.”
“I thought enchanté meant pleased to meet you.”
“It could, but are you really all that pleased right now?” Her gorgeous smile grew even brighter.
“You have no idea how very pleased I am, Chantel.” And I meant it. I’d never been more enthralled with a random encounter in my life. “But you’re wrong about not being enchanting. I’m so caught up I forgot what we were talking about.”
I inched toward her, dropping my voice. “I was focused on hearing you say my name with that gorgeous accent.”
“I’d have to know your name first, wouldn’t I?”
“I’m Dylan.”
Her smile died. “Dylan.” Her lips curled, nose crinkled, and spine straightened. Like she’d stepped in shit. “You’re Dylan?”
My stomach sank, but I kept the smirk in place. “So, you’ve heard of me.”
“Of course. Fuck d’ostie.” French and English tangled together in her mouth like a symphony.
“Is that good or bad?”
“They warned me to stay away from you. So probably not good.”
“Warned?” An edge of aggravation poked at the back of my neck. “By who?”
“Eric. He said you’re a player.”
“Right.” The acid in my stomach crept into my tone. “Because he’s the fucking authority on that topic.”
This was the reason I’d thought about escaping. These people had already made up their minds about me. I barely knew most of them, yet they’d helped give me a complex that was bigger than my fucking ego.
And that was saying a lot.
I started to turn away, but she grabbed the front of my shirt, bunching it in her delicate fist.
“Don’t go, chéri. I said he warned me. I didn’t say I’d listen.” Her gaze held mine. “I’m not very good at listening or doing what I’m told.”
Those words slid over me like a heated caress, traveling straight to my cock.
“No?” I held back the growl that wanted to tear out of me. “Not the kind to take orders, huh?”
She shook her head. Such a small, simple movement, but with her soft mouth, wide eyes, and thick hair falling over her chest, I was in thrall.
“I bet if I gave you orders nice enough, I could talk you into a few things. Bet you might even like that.”
“Eh bien.” A sly smile stole across her lips. “You are a bad boy, aren’t you?”
“You were warned.” I ran my fingers over the back of her hand, still clinging to my shirt. “Come on, enchanté. I’ve had a bad day. Give me something good. Say my name again but say it nicely this time.”
“Dylan,” she whispered. It was half taunt, half plea, and something inside me loosened at the sound of it.
“Mmm. Those lips do my name some serious justice. Thank you for indulging me.”
“Is that all you want from my lips?”
Fuck me. This woman was sweetness and sin all wrapped in one.
A reckless urge burned in me. How many boundaries could I push? How many unwritten rules could I demolish?
“What else have you got?” I challenged. “What are you willing to give me?”
She let go of my shirt, planting her hand firmly against my chest, and walked me backward into the bathroom, her heated gaze never leaving mine. The door clicked shut behind her.
She leaned in, her mouth just a breath from my own. “We shouldn’t be doing this, you know.” Like acknowledging it somehow made it all right.
“Isn’t that why you’re doing it? Isn’t that what makes it fun?”
I meant to wait and see what she’d do with those luscious lips on her own terms. Would she be a good fucking girl and rise to my challenge?
Impatience got the better of me. I grabbed a fistful of her long, silky hair and claimed her mouth with mine. Her sharp inhale shot straight through me, and I backed her into the door until our bodies were plastered together.
She melted under my touch, her mouth opening for mine, eager and willing, silently begging me to take the lead.
And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I didn’t worry about caution or good behavior.
I took what I fucking wanted.