32. Dylan
Chapter thirty-two
Dylan
Her heels clatter on the tile as she follows me down the hall.
“Dylan. Dylan, will you slow down? What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re the one who made this into an argument.”
“Not now, Dee,” I growl, sliding my hand over my face. “I need air, and I didn’t ask for an assist.”
“Well, when you storm out like that, I can’t exactly not follow you. I don’t understand what happened.”
“No,” I mutter, slamming the door open before walking along the side of the brick building, running my hands through my hair.
“I don’t understand.” My eyes meet hers as I pull to a stop, facing her.
She nearly runs into me, her hands instinctively shooting up, pressing hard against my chest to keep from toppling into me.
I grab her wrists and twist us, lifting her arms next to her head, backed against the building.
Her eyes search mine, her breath warm against my neck.
“I. Don’t. Understand,” I murmur, leaning into the crook of her neck, breathing her in.
“I don’t understand how we’ve been friends for years.
I don’t understand how I’m expected to watch you date other people.
I don’t understand what you’re doing to me.
I can’t stop my eyes from finding you in a room.
I can’t stop wanting to pull you close and have you dance with me.
I can’t stop wanting you all to myself.”
Her mouth drops open, then fire explodes behind her eyes. The fire she’s been missing since the moment she admitted she’d been laid off.
I can’t look away. She’s fucking radiant.
“Then don’t stop,” she says, eyeing my lips.
“You don’t mean that,” I rasp, lowering my head until our lips are a whisper apart.
“Since when do I not say what I mean?” All defiance and attitude, and fuck, it has my dick hard.
“Dee—”
“No. I don’t want you to rein it in. I don’t want you to hold onto that control you love so much.” That half-lidded gaze tilts my world sideways as she says, voice full of lust, “I want you to lose it. Let go, just for me.”
I can’t move. My body is frozen as my mind desperately claws to maintain that sense of control, slipping further away with every second my body is pressed against hers. My thoughts race through the options before me, but intuition takes over, superseding every logical thought.
“I swear to God, Dylan. If you don’t kiss me—”
Her lips. Her goddamn perfect lips. I take them before she has a chance to goad me for a second more. I need my lips on hers for the rest of my life.
My head swims. My cock aches. I press myself closer to her and she gasps. Her tongue presses against my mouth and slides in, tangling with mine in a battle for dominance. The push and pull feels like us, and I release her hands so I can feel all of her.
Her nails dig into my shoulders before they rake down my arms. Then she fists one in my hair, digging into the roots while the other loosens the tie holding it in place at the nape of my neck.
She shifts, trying to climb closer even though our bodies are already glued together. She arches away from the wall, her warm center grinding over my dick as I groan into her mouth.
“Fuck, Deanna. What are we doing?” My voice is like gravel, and I hate myself immediately for saying anything at all.
“Well, we were kissing. Now we’re talking.”
I drop my head to her collarbone. “I’m serious.” I chuckle, breathing in her scent, unable to get enough of her.
“Then why are you laughing? Do you want to stop?” she asks breathlessly, panting as hard as I am. We’re frozen, holding onto each other, waiting on the precipice of whatever this moment means.
Our eyes meet and I realize that none of this feels weird, even if it should. Having her in my arms might be the most comforting feeling I’ve had in a really long time.
“I don’t”—I slide both hands to her ass and pull her against my body. She gasps and then lets out the sexiest moan I’ve ever heard in my life as I lick my way up her neck to whisper in her ear—“ever want to stop. Whatever you’re doing to me…I’d give anything to have it last forever.”
She grips my face between her hands and lifts my mouth to hers, kissing me deeply. Her arms wrap around my shoulders and I revel in her scent, the feel of her thighs gripping my waist as she clings to me.
I’d be lying if I didn’t confess to wanting this. Before tonight. Before I moved into her apartment.
Dee is the sun and I’ve been pulled into her orbit, burning up the closer I’ve been allowed to get to her fire. I’d happily burn for her if it meant I got to hold onto this feeling forever.
The door next to us opens abruptly; a teenager walks out of the hall, wearing the staff uniform, with a joint in one hand and a lighter in the other, eyes practically popping out of his head at the sight of us.
It’s at that moment I realize Dee is probably freezing, her toned thighs hanging out of this deep purple dress, the remaining fabric rumpled between our bodies, skinny straps draped over her shoulders having fallen in our… whatever you call this.
He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll just…go back inside now.”
We both nod, then face each other, breaths still heaving before we break into a fit of laughter.
“Oops,” she says before letting her legs drop. I hold her waist as she finds her footing, unable to think of a single fucking thing to say after that kiss.
I’ll think about that kiss forever.
“We should probably go back inside too,” she says sheepishly. A rare state for Dee.
“Yeah,” I say, dragging a hand over the knot beginning to form in my shoulder. “I’ll wait a minute, then follow you in.”
She nods, giving me another once-over, wobbling unsteadily to the door. A sick, primal sort of satisfaction fills me at the sight of her teetering on her heels after she knocked me well and truly off my own axis.
I lean against the building, allowing the chill to seep into my overheated muscles. But it doesn’t help. My entire body is on fire for her, the press of her body forever imprinted in my mind.
Fuck. What happens now?