Kiss Me Goodnight (26 page)

I wasn’t sure if I could. I’d tried this before with Davey and Simon. It hadn’t worked. I might not need twenty minutes between rounds, but I did need a few. “Dylan, let me rest for a bit.”

He dropped his shoulders and hooked them under my knees. “No rest for the wicked.”

The yoga pants I like to wear are mostly for show. I wasn’t limber enough to do this. I wanted to protest, but he plunged in, and all I could think about was the way he filled me. He withdrew slowly only to thrust back quickly. Then he would withdraw quickly and thrust back slowly. He didn’t set any kind of discernible pattern, and my body couldn’t acclimate to his style.

“You’re teasing me.”

“You teased me for months. This is payback.”

“Months? I never teased you.”

“Tight shirts.” He thrust hard and fast. “Shorts. Short skirts.” He withdrew slowly and reversed direction without changing his speed. “Cherry lip gloss—all the fucking time.”

I liked my lip gloss, but I hadn’t been aware he’d noticed it. That observation/accusation made me inordinately happy. “You like my lip gloss?”

“You taste of it every time I kiss you. I can’t eat a goddamn piece of fruit without thinking about you.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

He leaned forward and put his weight on his hands. My legs slid from his shoulders, down his arms. This left me splayed open, and it released some of the tension on my legs.

“Those leggings you’ve been wearing recently. They hug your ass. You have an exceptionally nice ass.”

I liked the way he gave a compliment. “They’re yoga pants. Leggings are tight all the way down.”

“Woman, I don’t want a fashion lesson.”

“Well, then shut up and fuck me.”

He did. No more playing around. He made circular motions with his hips and released my legs to suck on my nipples. He kissed the sensitive places on my neck and nibbled my earlobes. I writhed in his arms, coming twice before he finally gave in to his passion.

I wasn’t aware of how sweaty we were until he collapsed on top of me. By that point, I was too tired to care.

We must have dozed off because I awoke to the ringing of my cell phone. Dylan had rolled to the side, but his arm and leg were across me, wrapping me and keeping me in his embrace. Gingerly, I tried to move him without waking him, but his limbs were heavy. I ended up shoving them.

He didn’t budge. I threw a sleep shirt over my head and looked back to see if he’d stirred. There he was, on my bed, in the place I’d wanted him for so long, still in dreamland. His dark hair was messy, matted in some places and standing on end in others. I looked over his long body, taking in his magnificent shoulders and arms, ass and thighs. I could look at him all day, but my cell chirped to let me know there was a message.

I expected my mother to call, or else I would’ve let it go. When I got to the living room, it turned out I had three voice messages. Luma, Jane, and my mother had all called. Daisy and Levi had texted me. Gavin had sent me a picture of a kitten.

I listened to my messages, called my mom to assure her I was fine, and returned the texts.

Dylan stumbled out of the bedroom, naked as a jaybird and just as self-conscious. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I posted on KMG’s Facebook page that the lead singer has just gotten laid, and you know how your sister trolls that thing. She texted me a high-five. Of course, some of your fans are pissed. They think you should remain single and available. Others sent you a high-five and requested photos.”

He blinked at me. “Was that a joke?”

I wasn’t offended. The man was barely awake. “I think it qualifies as a lie.”

He nodded. “Okay, good. I’m going to get some water, and then I’m going to jump in the shower. Why don’t you join me? I’m not finished with you yet today.”

He’d made me come four times. I was impressed that he wanted another round. I finished texting Daisy—she’d wanted to know if Dylan and I were okay—and joined him in the shower.

I found him with his face under the spray. Rivulets ran down his body, highlighting the ripples. Playing guitar and lugging equipment kept him in prime condition. I wrapped my arms around him and snuggled against his back.

“So, am I really the second woman you’ve slept with?”

“Yep.”

My hands tingled. When he moved out of the way, I washed them. This wasn’t something I’d done in the shower since I was a teen hiding my habit from my mom and John.

Dylan wrapped his arms around me. “Wanna tell me what you’re anxious about?”

“What makes you think I’m anxious?”

“The hand washing is an obvious tell.”

“I guess I’m wondering what this afternoon means to you.”

He moved out of the spray and searched through my shampoo collection. “Do you have anything that smells manly?”

“Nope. You maybe want to go with the vanilla. It has the lightest scent.”

He selected cherry and soaped his hair. When he wrinkled his nose at me, I knew he was considering how to address my concern. “I guess I don’t really understand the question.”

“You said you came here to support a friend.”

“And to bring you chili. I remembered you like it.” He rinsed and conditioned. That explained the softness of his hair.

He was purposely leaving me hanging. “Dylan…”

“Feel my face. Tell me if that’s too rough for you. I shaved this morning, but sometimes I need to do it again in the evening.”

I’d feel his face all right. I’d feel it the way I felt his nose when he wrote that damn song. “If you’d rather not answer, I wish you’d just say so. I don’t like games.”

He advanced slowly, probably in deference to the slick bathtub. I took small steps back until the tiled wall halted my progress. He took my hands one at a time and lifted them to his cheeks. “Too scratchy? Last chance to weigh in.”

They felt fine. I liked them a little scratchy. A five o’clock shadow looked fantastic on Dylan. “Not too scratchy.”

Then he pinned my wrists to the wall. “Let’s get one thing perfectly clear: I waited because I wanted us both to be sure. I love you, Lacey. Heart and soul. I love everything about you. I love the way you smile, the way you pretend to know what’s going on when you haven’t been following the conversation, the fact that you need things in groups of six. Don’t think I haven’t figured out why you want us to hire two backup singers.”

That was a connection I hadn’t made, but it was true.

“I love your intelligence, your tenacity, and your wit. I love your zest for life and the way you have unfailingly believed in me from the start.” He released my hands and turned to rinse his hair. “Did that adequately answer your question?”

More than. I nodded, but he couldn’t see me. “Dylan?”

He finished and turned back to me. “Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

His cocky grin was worth it. “I was thinking.”

I caressed his head. “Does it hurt?”

“Funny. As I said, I love your sense of humor.” His face hovered inches above mine. “I think you shouldn’t deliver your lies so convincingly. Give a mischievous smile at the end to let people know you’re joking. Or use some of your dry wit. Make it ironic or sarcastic. It’ll provide the stress relief you need without the stigma of a lie.”

The idea held appeal. “I’ll think about it.”

He dropped to his knees. I hoped he wasn’t going to propose in my shower.

“Hold on to the towel bar.”

I barely had time to grab it before he threw my knee over his shoulder and buried his face between my legs. Holy hell, that man had a talented tongue and strong lips. He supported my ass with one hand and added the fingers of his other to the mix. They curled inside me, finding my sweet spot with every stroke.

“The towel bar isn’t going to hold me,” I warned him.

His chuckle turned to a moan when I grabbed his hair for leverage and rode his face into the sunset.

Chapter Eighteen

D
INNER
W
AS
D
ELICIOUS
, not that I tasted it much. We made grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato and bacon, and it turned out I was ravenous. I inhaled my food, finishing well before Dylan, and after that, our conversation meandered. He talked about recording the band’s first EP. I’d booked studio time for them next month. I talked about John—a lot. I opened up and told Dylan all the things I’d withheld before.

“I was terrified of him at first. It took three weeks before I stopped hiding under a table in the corner with a plastic sword in my hands.”

I couldn’t tell whether Dylan wanted to laugh or hug me. He took a sip of milk. “They didn’t place you with a female counselor so you’d feel more comfortable?”

I studied Dylan closely. What did the gender of my therapist have to do with anything? “What did I say—exactly—in the bathroom yesterday?”

He shrugged. “You said enough for me to figure things out.”

I couldn’t have said nearly enough. I regarded him somberly and confessed the details of my sordid past. He listened, his fists clenching and angry color rising to his cheeks at several points, but he didn’t comment or interrupt.

The apartment was silent for a full minute after I stopped talking. I knew what he was doing. Counselors are trained to let the quiet make people talk. However, I’d said it all.

“Wow,” he finally said. “I knew you were a strong woman. Looks like you’ve been that way your entire life.”

“I don’t always feel strong.” My mother is a fierce woman. I don’t have a tenth of her strength. She lost her husband, and it hadn’t destroyed her. That amazed me. I felt adrift without John, though now I had Dylan to anchor me. “Right now I feel very, very weak.”

He pulled me onto his lap and held me in the safe cocoon of his arms. “It still hits me like that sometimes. Losing a parent is hard. You don’t have to pretend with me. Ever.”

After breakfast, Dylan sang the song he’d been working on.

She’s pretty and she’s smart
Completely unaware.
Six smiles
Six laughs
Six kisses on the lips
She hears whispers in the dark
Telling her she’s loved

Six notes
Six chords
Six lines I write
Six roses
Six bridesmaids
Six layers on the cake
Six lines our vows
Six seconds our kiss
Six days the trip

She’s pretty and she’s smart
Completely unaware.
Six smiles
Six laughs
Six kisses on the lips
She hears whispers in the dark
Telling her she’s loved

Six bedrooms in the house
Six kids come along
Six times I take her
In my arms
Six times I whisper…

I had no words, only tears. He made love to me one more time. (Six total orgasms, and yes, he was counting—that sweet, sweet man.)

Later, I shoved him out the door. “You need to go home and get some fresh clothes before you can see patients today.”

He hesitated, a protest in the firm set of his jaw.

“I’m fine. I have a meeting. I need to see my mother, and then we have a band meeting at seven at your house. I’ll be over at seven.”

And I was fine for the moment. I held it together until I arrived at my mother’s house. John had almost always answered the door when I came over. Seeing my mom assume that duty socked me in the gut.

Mom must have known because she pushed open the screen and pulled me into her safe, familiar embrace. “Baby, I know. Come in. I have some tea made, and there’s a shitload of food in the kitchen. People apparently think I buried my ability to cook.”