Chapter Eighteen
Dylan
Two weeks felt like a lifetime, but it was the earliest I could make anything happen. Three busy people with three packed schedules made hooking up feel like a game of Jenga—pull the wrong piece and the whole thing came toppling down.
Except, our game was a little more nerve-racking. And a hell of a lot more illicit.
Playing it turned me on, though.
Maybe it was the risk. If word got out, a lot more than my already shitty reputation would get ruined.
Or maybe it wasn’t the risk at all. Maybe it was the players.
I was the first to arrive, waiting in the hotel bar like we’d planned.
The Copper Ridge Resort wasn’t my usual scene. Fancy place, fancy people, the kind of bar where the bartender could tell Canadian whiskey from American by taste. But this wasn’t a usual night. It was the kind of night that would turn out to be one of the best decisions I’d ever made. Or the worst.
Either way, I figured it deserved the upgrade.
I ordered the bartender’s whiskey recommendation instead of my usual beer and tried to look like a man who belonged. The burn helped settle the doubt clawing at the back of my throat.
“You look lonely.” A tall blonde slid onto the stool beside me, her fingers playing with the stem of her wineglass.
I didn’t spare her more than a glance. “I’m not.”
“Are you sure? I can help take the edge off better than that drink can.” She batted her lashes.
“Not interested.”
“Oh, honey, a good-looking man like you shouldn’t be sitting here all alone. I promise I’m good company.”
“This isn’t a street corner.” Chantel’s voice came from behind me, low and lethal. “He said he wasn’t interested. Now get out of my seat.”
The blonde went mute and bolted.
I turned, and there she was. My enchanté—hair down, hazel eyes sharp, dressed in something that made my mouth water.
She moved closer and slid an arm around my neck, pushing up into my space until there was nothing but a breath between us. “I’ll be the only woman making you feel anything tonight.”
The possessive heat of that promise wrapped around me, choking out the last of my doubt.
I leaned in and kissed her, my mouth molding to hers in a way that showed her—and anyone else who might be watching—I wasn’t fucking around.
“I’m happy to see you too,” I said after pulling away.
I ordered her a drink, and we settled into the kind of easy conversation we’d fallen into before. Somewhere between the orgasms and the phone sex, we’d become something more than I’d ever expected.
Friends.
Friends who wanted to rip each other’s clothes off, sure. But friends.
“I have a confession.”
She raised an eyebrow, looking like a beautiful little devil. “Another one?”
“I like you a lot more than I’ve let on.”
It was a simple sentence. Ten words. But for me, those words were more honest than I’d been with anyone in years.
Her smile softened. “Wow, Dylan. That’s quite revealing.” A laugh slipped out. “But thank you. I like you a lot too.”
Almost an hour passed before I thought about Sean. His absence had gone unnoticed until Chantel mentioned him.
“The first time I met him, I was just a teenager.” She leaned forward, her hands resting next to mine on the bar. “Believe it or not, he’s much tamer than he was back then. He actually scared me a little—the trouble he used to cause.”
It hit me then how long they’d known each other. They had a small history, but I was the guy bringing them together. I’d been telling myself Sean had started it all with his texts.
But that was bullshit. This was all on me. I was the instigator.
And he was over an hour late.
“Do you want to get out of here?” I asked, done with the fancy bar and the lingering doubt about whether Sean was even going to show.
“You don’t think he’s coming?” She frowned, reading my mind.
“I don’t know. But I’m not waiting all night. And I’m happy to get some time alone with you.”
Taking her hand, I led her out of the bar, through the lobby, and up to the room. The door closed behind us, and for a moment, we just stood there.
The room was dim, one lamp burning in the corner, the bed made up in crisp white linens behind us. Quiet except for the sound of the ice machine down the hall, a door closing on another floor, Chantel’s breathing, and the steady thud of my own pulse.
She hadn’t moved since I’d let go of her hand. She was watching me with half-lidded eyes, waiting to see what I’d do next.
And something in me shifted. Not nerves. Impatience.
I didn’t want to wait anymore. Didn’t want to fill the time with more talk about jobs or vacations or even Sean.
All I wanted was her. Any and every way I could have her.
I stepped close and spanned my hands around her waist. She looked so small in my hold. With my fingers spread wide, I could nearly wrap them all the way around her—and that, combined with her quiet sigh, was all it took to put me back in control.
But small didn’t mean breakable. Chantel was stronger than me in most of the ways that mattered. That excited me too.
I was about to pull her in and kiss her senseless when there was a knock at the door.
“Fuck’s sake.” I stalked over and pulled it open.
Sean stood on the other side, looking as casual and unbothered as the day I’d met him.
“You’re late.” I didn’t bother hiding the bite in my tone. Not only had he interrupted, but he’d made me fucking wait.
His grin was bright and unaffected. “Does that mean I’m uninvited?”
“Get your ass in here before I change my mind.”
“Yes, sir.” The way he said it made my jaw tighten.
He got off on making me angry. I’d figured that much out a while ago. But I wasn’t sure if it was because he was used to causing trouble or if he just liked watching me break.
“Chantel.” He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “You look delectable as always. Is that a flush in your cheeks? Have you two been fooling around without me?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Her words were playful, but there was an edge underneath them. An edge that triggered something protective in me.
“You sure about this, enchanté?” I brushed my hand up her arm.
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” Her intense gaze met mine, lighting me up, and settling something deep within me. “I’m the one who asked you for it, remember?”
“She’s a big girl.” Sean took off his jacket, dropping it haphazardly on the chair in the corner. “No one’s forcing her. If it’s too much to handle, she can leave.”
He laughed, arrogant and grating, and something in me snapped.
“Shut up,” I demanded. “This goes how I say it goes. Or I can show you the door just as easily as I let you in it.”
A flash of hurt crossed his face. So fast I almost missed it. The same look of rejection I’d seen on him the day of the wedding.
He might’ve been reckless. A pain in my ass. But underneath the crass jokes and the sexy one-liners, his feelings ran deeper than he wanted anyone to see.
Sean was messed up, just like the rest of us. There was one small difference between the three of us, though.
He got off despite the pain. Chantel got off because of it. And I got off by fucking causing it.
“Come here,” I ordered him, leaving no room for questions.
Chantel moved back as Sean approached me, slow and almost hesitant. Each step kicked my heart rate up another notch.
I waited until we were toe-to-toe before reaching up and fisting the hair at the back of his head. His throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed, his eyes closing on a quiet, broken groan.
With a tug, I turned his face toward Chantel.
“Say you’re sorry,” I murmured against his ear.
He opened his eyes, his neck straining, his breath coming heavier. “I’m sorry, Chantel. I’m glad you’re here.”
“That’s better.” I turned to her. “Do you accept that?”
She nodded, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
But that nod wasn’t just acceptance of Sean’s apology. And it was more than a green light for me to take over. It was Chantel trusting me, accepting me.
All of me.
“Now.” My voice was rough with need. “Show her what she came to see.”