Authors: Jodie Becker
Dylan paused, fork midway to his mouth. The million-dollar
question. “Honestly?”
She nodded, nibbling on her lower lip. Damn, were her lips
always that beautiful peach color? He wiped a hand over the back of his neck
and straightened, the fork hit the plate with a soft clatter. “Not much.”
He tensed in wait for the firestorm to begin, but she didn’t
even bat an eyelash. In fact, her shoulders slumped in relief. What the
hell
happened last night? He cleared his throat. “Uh, did we… Did I…?” Damn, he
didn’t think it was that hard to ask if he was a bad lay.
Her eyes widened and a pert little mouth dropped open. “No,
no, no. We didn’t do anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Thank fuck for that. “I gathered I told you about my
birthday?”
“Yes. We just sat on your back porch and listened to the
crickets.”
Somehow he doubted that. “Did I…say anything?”
Her gaze flickered about the kitchen before settling on him,
a grimace on her face. Dylan braced himself for it. “You might’ve…said to, um,
for me to stay out of your dreams because you were sick of hard-ons.”
A sound caught between a groan and a chuckle burst from him.
“Did I really?”
Eyes twinkling with mischief, she leaned onto the bench, a
move which afforded him a front-row view of her luscious cleavage. Chin propped
on her hand, she scrutinized him. “What do I do in these dreams of yours
anyway?”
He shifted in his seat and cursed his decision to go
commando. An erection was a little too hard to conceal when it stood straight
up underneath jersey like a misaligned tent pole. “Um, I really don’t remember.”
Erica laughed, taking his discomfort as a great source of
amusement. “Oh come on. Was there whipped cream and chocolate? Did I wear a nun
outfit so you could defile my wholesome body?”
Images swirled through his mind of him tying her down and
having his way with her. Of her screams of ecstasy as he tasted her tender
flesh. His dick throbbed with desire. Even the fabric rubbed erotically against
his despicable cock. Jesus Christ, she was going to kill him. “Nothing like
that.”
“No?” She paused, the smile slowly left her face, her
kitty-cat playfulness replaced by sensuality.
Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips and he longed to lean
over the expanse that separated them and taste her. Instead he chose to focus
on his food. The crisp bacon and fluffy pancake failed to register on his
palate, all his focus on Erica.
“I fantasize you’re a viscount from the eighteen hundreds
and you make love to me up against a gazebo in the night.”
Dylan sucked in a breath and promptly coughed as food lodged
in his throat. “What?”
She waved a hand at his naked torso, a blush on her cheeks.
“I know it’s a bit more…imaginative, but I have fantasies too. I’m not quite as
innocent as you think I am.”
Erica stood there, her eyes expectant, but Dylan had no clue
what she wanted him to say. Taking his silence as her cue, she continued. “I
think we should have sex.”
The world disappeared beneath his feet. Dylan’s mouth
dropped open and for the first time in his life, he was speechless in the
presence of a woman.
“Not right now. Just…we’ve been dancing around this and we
have a great chemistry. Why not see where this goes? If it does go somewhere
then great, if not…” She shrugged. “No pressure.”
No pressure? Was she
kidding
? She had “Caution” taped
all over her sexy body. She straightened and clapped her hands together in a
nervous gesture. “Well, either way, I’ll see you later I suppose. I have to go
to work so…bye.”
She sauntered out of the room, unaware that she’d tipped his
world upside down and shaken him up.
* * * * *
Friday evening came and Erica couldn’t shake the tension
that drew taut inside her. Last night while contemplating Dylan’s revelations,
she’d concluded why he didn’t want to have sex. It was so clear to her now that
she felt foolish for not noticing it sooner. A man who doesn’t have any
familial connections, rejected by those he cared about. He was frightened about
putting himself out there. Of course she’d given herself a nice little pat on
the back for drawing the clues together. She was no sleuth, but she did a pretty
good job if she did say so herself.
Curled up on the couch, she flicked through the channels
before she settled on a bake-off between two chefs. In a break in between
advertisements she heard a
click
,
click
. Frowning, she stuck the
television on mute and listened harder.
Click. Click.
It came from the
window at the back of the room. She walked around her couch and peered outside.
Dylan stood in his yard, throwing little pebbles at her window.
She pulled it open and leaned on the sill. “What are you
doing? There is a perfectly serviceable door a few yards away.”
He grinned. “I thought this would be more romantic.”
Erica’s heart fluttered. “I suppose, but do you want me to
throw down my hair? Or climb my trellis? If you are, you’re in for a long
wait.”
“Pack your bags. I’m taking you out for the weekend.”
“What? Where?”
He grinned. “I can’t tell you that. It’s a surprise.”
His boyish eagerness made her smile and without a chat to
her good sense she spoke. “All right.”
“Great. I’ll meet you out front.”
Hurrying up the stairs, Erica wondered what she should pack
and where Dylan could possibly take her at such short notice. She threw off her
clothes and dressed in a comfortable maxi-dress and knit cardigan. She pulled a
yellow hardtop travel case from the bottom of her closet and threw in various
items. The little travel case zipped shut with much finagling on her part, but
it was finally closed. She carried the case down and snatched up her keys.
Outside, she found Dylan propped up against his truck, one
leg crossed over the other, hands tucked in his pockets. He looked up and
pushed off, striding toward her with an easy grace. He took the case from her.
“Quite a large case you have for just a weekend.”
Erica folded her arms. “You don’t know much about women, do
you?”
He chuckled and Erica scowled, unsure why he found it
extremely amusing. Noting her displeasure, he quelled his humor and attempted
to appear contrite. An effort lost by the quiver on the corners of his lips.
“Women like to prepare for all sets of circumstances. I
don’t know where we’re going so I had to pack for anything. Hence, the ‘large’
travel case. It isn’t all that big, you know.”
He threw it into the bed of the vehicle next to a smaller
bag not even half the size of hers. “Come on, peaches. Our weekend awaits.”
* * * * *
Saturday morning, Erica stood upon a balcony ten stories up,
which overlooked Venice Beach. The sun had broken the surface with pink rays of
light. Clouds in the distance strayed apart to give way to the sharp blue sky.
Hands on the banister, she breathed in the salty air and squealed in delight.
She’d never seen the beach before and although it was early and the air crisp,
she could see people enjoying the waves. Hair whipped in her face and she
brushed it aside, not wanting to lose the view. Still, she couldn’t believe she
was here and that Dylan gave her this experience.
She glanced over her shoulder at Dylan, who stood in an
open-plan kitchen setting up two plates of food for their breakfast. “You have
to see this. It’s amazing.”
He looked up, eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’ve seen it.”
Erica turned then, the arch of her back against the cool
metal rail. “You own this place?”
“It’s being looked after by a friend before I can sell it,
but he’s gone for a job, so I thought why not bring you down.”
Joy crowded her chest and her cheeks hurt from smiling too
much. “You didn’t have to. I would’ve been happy with whatever you wanted to
do. This is just too much.”
Dylan straightened over the platter of fruits. He sauntered
around the bench and lifted her hand to kiss her knuckle, a twinkle in his
eyes. “But I wanted to take you.”
“It’s too much,” she protested halfheartedly.
He indicated with his chin over her shoulder. “Seeing your
delight over a beach makes it worth it.”
Erica faced the ocean again. Palm trees waved in the wind.
Warm arms wrapped around her waist and a shiver ran up her spine as Dylan
lightly kissed her neck. “Want to go for a swim later?” he murmured in her ear.
Need pulsed deep inside her. “I didn’t pack a swimsuit.”
She felt his smile against her skin and trembled. “Nothing
wrong with skinny dipping.”
Erica choked on a chuckle. “I think other people would think
differently.”
He breathed her in, his hands tightening around her.
“Wholesome.”
“You always say that.” Erica turned in his grip.
Dylan peered down at her, his blue eyes burned bright with
want. “It’s what you are to me.”
His head descended and she met him halfway. Electricity shot
through her as she accepted his kiss. He palmed her ass, curving her into his
body. Tongues clashed in a heated battle of unadulterated lust. Erica moaned,
her arms wrapped around his neck, hands curled in his hair. He suckled on her
then soothed her with a gentle exploration. Desire hardened her nipples, the
sensitive nubs rubbing against the fabric of her bra. He broke off the kiss,
forehead pressed to hers, their short breaths intermingling.
“Damn,” he muttered. “You’re amazing.”
Light burst inside her and she tightened her arms around
him. She never realized how unattractive she felt with Greg until now. He never
told her things like that. They were of the “of course you’re beautiful” sort,
as though she’d forced it from him. But Dylan seemed genuine in his affection
toward her.
He dropped his arms and stepped back, his hot gaze raking
over her body. His frame trembled as though he tried to shake himself from his
fixation of her. He wiped a hand over his mouth. “You ready for breakfast?”
Taking his offered hand, she followed him inside, throwing a
forlorn stare one last time at the beach. She doubted she’d go and swim, but
maybe she could frolic in the waves later? The soles of her feet slapped
against the cream tile floor and she allowed Dylan to pull out a chair for her.
The glass table was positioned in such a way that the diners could still enjoy
the ocean views. From all sides of the apartment, the ocean was a prevalent
landscape.
Dylan presented her with a bowl of fruit and she picked at
the strawberries. Sweet bursts of flavor tripped over her taste buds. He
returned a moment later with scrambled eggs and toast. “Breakfast is served.”
As Erica ate she contemplated what this weekend meant for
them. They’d arrived last night, but he’d set her up in another room. She’d
barely slept a wink, still buzzed over her first plane trip and a cab ride
through LA. She felt like the proverbial country bumpkin. Everyone ran around
at such a breakneck pace, unlike back home. She considered the reasons for
Dylan leaving such a luxurious home for a rundown cottage in a small Southern
town, but couldn’t think of why.
“What made you choose to leave all this behind and come to
Templeton? We’re a far cry from this type of lifestyle.”
Dylan paused, his brows lowered as he contemplated her
question. “I just wanted a change. I was sick of this life and wanted to go
back to how I felt when I was younger. That innocence.” His intense gaze fell
on her, searing her to her soul. “I suppose that’s why you intrigue me.”
“You must think our town quite insipid compared to here.”
He tipped his head to one side. “No, actually, I don’t. I
grew up in Arkansas. It wasn’t like your town, but it was laid-back and
neighbors knew each other. I had fond memories of that and wanted to create it
in my adult life.”
“Really? Why not go back there?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t feel the pull of going back there.”
Erica read the misery in his eyes. He didn’t go back because
his family was there. The family who’d for some reason cut him off because he
wanted more. She pushed around the remains of her breakfast and acknowledged
she would never leave Templeton for the big lights. She didn’t know if it came
from acceptance that the chance had long since passed her by or because she was
comfortable with the status quo. “I admire your strength for going out and
getting what you want.”
His eyelids fluttered, taken off guard by her words. “It
wasn’t strength. It was desperation.”
Erica made a commiserating sound. She understood that.
Sometimes small-town living suffocated people, but once they left, most
returned to their roots. She scooped up another mouthful of eggs. “I could only
dream of an apartment like this, or the view. My goodness. Am I going to meet
any of your friends?”
Dylan stood, the chair scraping across the floor. “You
finished?”
Fork midway to her mouth, she peered up at him, shock raised
her brows.
“Good.” He snatched her hand and jerked her up, the utensil
clattered on the plate. He dragged her toward the living room and Erica looked
back at her half-eaten breakfast.
“But I wasn’t finished yet.”
Dylan turned toward her and pulled her into his arms. Flush
against him, her protests died in the face of his desire. His hand kneaded her
ass and pushed her up against his erection. Her hands fluttered to his
shoulders, his head dipped to inhale.
“God, you smell so good,” he said, his voice a low rumble. A
shiver of awareness rocked down her spine.
His tongue thrust inside her mouth. Her arms wrapped around
his neck, her breasts pressed against him. His groan vibrated against her skin,
hot breath tickled her cheek. Warm hands abandoned her buttocks to skim up her
back and trace wondrous circles over her exposed upper back. Erica trembled
with need, her hand fisted in his silky hair.