One More Time (3 page)

When I graduated two years earlier, my uncle gave me some money for a graduation present. I ultimately used that money for a down payment on a town house. In order to pay the mortgage, I taught guitar lessons at Milton’s Guitar Shop during the day and worked the bar at night. This, and Sally renting the whole upstairs from me, allowed me to make ends meet. I was beginning to settle into my independence, which was part of the reason I didn’t want to live with Jimmy. The thought of giving it up to him made my stomach turn.

Dillon drove a kick ass, navy blue, four door Jeep. Hands down, it beat my very used Toyota Camry I purchased a few years earlier from one of my uncle’s patrons. Stepping out of the car, I met him on the sidewalk in front of my place and kindly warned him about Brutus, who we could hear barking all the way from the street.

“That’s my dog, Brutus. His bark is much worse than his bite.” At least for most people it was. Brutus never warmed up to Jimmy. In fact, he despised the man, which was yet another reason I didn’t want to move in with Jimmy. I knew he would try to make me get rid of my baby and that was never going to happen.

Dillon paused mid-stride. “He sounds big and really pissed off.”

“He’s part lab and part mastiff. He’ll be fine once he gets to know you. Whatever you do, though, don’t run. He’ll think it’s a game and it really hurts when he tackles you from behind,” I explained, as I inserted the key in the lock. I opened the door a crack and sternly said, “Sit Boo.” Brutus immediately sat. However, he continued baring his teeth and growling at Dillon.

“Holy shit!” Dillon exclaimed behind me. At a year old, Brutus was already a hundred pounds. The vet said he would not reach his full height and weight until around two years of age. He was big, black and seriously intimidating. Uncle Charlie gave him to me the day I moved into my town house. He was worried about me living by myself, so he went out and bought me a puppy…that would grow into an obscenely large dog.

“Be nice,” I commanded. “Stick out your hand and let him get your scent,” I calmly told Dillon. Dillon’s hand instantly went out. Instead of snapping at it, like he always did to Jimmy’s, Brutus nuzzled Dillon’s hand. I smiled at him. “See, he knows you’re good people.”

“Not so sure about that,” Dillon wryly replied and I laughed.

“He doesn’t like my sister and she’s blood. The only people he lets anywhere near him are me, Sally, Uncle Charlie and now…you. Everyone else he barely tolerates.”

Before I knew it, Dillon and Brutus were wrestling like old friends on my entry way floor. Shaking my head, I decided to grab a few beers from the fridge. I went to step over them and two hands reached up and yanked me onto the floor. I squealed as I was licked to death by my behemoth of a dog, while being tickled by his new best friend. Five minutes of this and my gut hurt from laughing. It had been a long time since I had been around so much laughter and fun. My reserves were so empty that I didn’t realize how much I had missed it…until now.

Brutus, finally getting his fill of activity, moseyed off to his water bowl and bed. I turned my head to ask Dillon if he wanted a beer, but before I could get the words out, his hands were in my hair and his lips were pressed to mine. My breath caught in my throat. I expected him to pull back and apologize. Instead, he bit down on my bottom lip which caused me to open my mouth wider. His tongue swept in and his hands clinched tightly in my hair. Unlike Jimmy, Dillon’s dominance didn’t scare me. It enflamed me and made me want more. Reaching up, I wrapped my fingers around the back of his neck and melted into this wonderfully amazing kiss, unlike any I had ever experienced before. Our lips parted and our tongues danced. All the while, his soulful silver eyes stared into mine.

Dillon pulled his head away long enough to gruffly say, “Bedroom.” I paused for a second. Could I do this? After a year with the same man, could I let another man inside my body? “Don’t over think it,” he whispered into my ear before sucking on the lobe. “I know you feel it, too. Just go with it.”

“D-down the hall,” I stammered. “The bedroom is past the kitchen and down the hall.”

Reaching down, he hoisted me into his arms as if I weighed nothing. He then carried me down the hall and into my bedroom, where he gently deposited me at the foot of my bed. Before I could come up with an excuse as to why we shouldn’t do this, he parted my legs and stepped between them. His hands came up and gently pulled the scarf from my hair. For the first time in forever, I felt alive. I also felt nervous. This man’s touch ignited a fire inside of me and made me want things I didn’t know existed.
I can do this. No, I am going to do this. Just once, I’m going to step from the ledge and throw caution to the wind.

Dillon

‡

F
uck! I didn’t
think I could like this girl any more than I already do…and then she whips out her bad-ass dog.
I’m fucked.

“Stick out your hand and let him get your scent,” she calmly commanded.

I stuck my hand in front of the dog’s snout and waited to see if he would lick it or bite it off. When he nuzzled my hand, I knew I was golden. He butted against my legs as I walked through the door and almost knocked me over. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. It may be his house, but for tonight I was master. I just needed to get him on board with that plan. Two seconds later, the big shit nipped at my heel and I decided it was time. Dropping to my knees, I ducked my head and pulled his front legs out from under him. As he started to fall, I flipped him onto his back and held him down. He growled and tried to get up. “No,” I forcefully said. I knew I had him when he licked my hand.

Isabella laughed somewhere behind me. The throaty sound of it made my dick swell. Never, in my whole life, had I been turned on by just the sound of a woman’s voice.
Until now.
I rolled away from the dog and busted her shaking her head at my canine shenanigans. Still laughing, she made a move to step over us and I saw the perfect opportunity to reach up and pull her down to the floor. Her squeals of laughter caused Brutus to playfully woof before licking her all over. All the while, I used the excuse of tickling her just to get my hands on her lush, sexy body. Not able to control myself any longer, I threaded my fingers through her silky hair and lowered my mouth to hers. When she tried to pull back, I gently bit down on her lower lip. She froze for a second before giving in. I swept in and conquered.

When I was fourteen and my brother, Adam, was sixteen, we had to go live with my mother’s younger sister, Angela, in Charleston, South Carolina. We had only seen my aunt a handful of times, up to this point in our lives. As you can imagine, being completely uprooted in order to live with a relative we barely knew was a bit disturbing. Aunt Angela, however, was a trooper. At the drop of a hat, she altered her entire life to make room for two grieving teenage boys. Not only that, she raised us as her own, which was something not many people would do.

Years later, both Adam and I joined the military. We chose to return home to Aunt Angela every leave we had. She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer a year and a half ago. After months of chemo and radiation, she was in remission and we thought she had it beat. Around that time, I decided I was officially done with the military. It just so happened that Zane, a former Army buddy of mine, was living in Charlotte, North Carolina and wanted me to headline at a place he partially owned. So, instead of moving back to South Carolina as planned, I moved to Charlotte.

Six months later, Aunt Angela found out the cancer was back, only this time it had spread into her lymph nodes and bones. Her refusal to do more treatments made me angry at first. Now it just made me feel helpless and sad. Every time I mentioned moving back to South Carolina, she threw a fit and spouted all kinds of shit about turning old and grey with nothing to show but a life full of loneliness and trinkets. After weeks of this, I made up my mind to ignore her and move back anyway. Then I was approached with the opportunity to help run a new bar in South Charlotte called Dragonfly. This opportunity came with the chance to play guitar and sing on my own terms…whenever I wanted. It was almost too good to be true.

Two weeks ago, I ran into Charlie Porter in the grocery store while I was in Charleston visiting my aunt. He told me a few people in town wanted to do something for my aunt. The hospital bills had almost burned through my aunt’s savings and retirement money, so I jumped at the opportunity when Charlie asked if I would be interested in sharing the stage with his youngest niece, Ibby, for a night in order to help out. The image of a chubby, pimply twenty year old popped into my head and I quickly pushed it away. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my aunt, including sharing the stage for a night…even though it was something I hated to do.

Tonight was the night. Here I was, on a strange stage, tuning my guitar, while waiting for little Ibby, who apparently had no concept of time management.
Spoiled brat. What kind of name is Ibby anyway?
The clicking of heels across the stage told me she had finally decided to grace us with her presence. Not wanting her to catch me staring, in case she was self-conscious or something, I focused down at my guitar. Click, click, click, swish…she quickly skirted by on the way to the empty stool. The subtle scent of flowers and grapefruit wafted across my nose and I felt a sudden urge to see the owner of such a scent. Quickly, I glanced up, but all I could see was the silky black hair covering her chunky face.
Well, at least she has a good head of hair going for her
. Her head started to rise and I quickly glanced back down at my guitar. Finally we could get this thing started. A minute or so later, I looked back up and almost swallowed my tongue. Little Ibby wasn’t plump…or pimply. In fact, she was the complete opposite. Raven colored hair framed one of the most classically beautiful faces I had ever seen. She reminded me of a young Elizabeth Taylor. Memories of watching old movies with my mom ran through my head and I quickly shut them out. She fluidly tossed the guitar strap over her shoulder before glancing my way. My breath caught in my throat as I stared into eyes the color of sapphires. A set of full, red lips that looked as if they were made for dirty things, innocently smiled at me and I held out my hand.

“I’m Dillon,” I said, my voice slightly cracking.

Her hand grasped mine and it suddenly felt as if she had a strangle hold on my balls. Trying to catch my breath, I fought back a strong desire to get up and walk out the door.

“Hi, I’m Isabella and I’m really sorry I’m late.” Her sexy, slightly raspy voice wound through me. Closing my eyes, all I could think was…
I’m in deep shit here.

Hours later, I found myself carrying her down the hall to her bedroom so I could strip her naked and get inside her, which was something I’d been wanting to do since the first second I glanced into her sapphire blue eyes. My mind drifted back to how much I normally disliked sharing the stage…with anyone. However, tonight, when Isabella started singing
Into
the Mystic
, I wanted to drop to my knees and worship at her feet. Her whiskey-filled voice singing one of my all-time favorite songs did something to me. Something that… if I was totally honest… had the potential to scare the ever living shit out of me…if I let it.
Never gonna happen.
Brutus’s nails clicking down the hall behind us brought me back to the woman in my arms and what I was about to do to her.

“It’s the door at the end of the hall,” she instructed. “Please put me down, Dillon.”

The way she said my name, with that sultry voice of hers, shot my mind straight to the gutter. Ignoring her request, I nudged the bedroom door open and carried her through it.

“Stay, Boo.” She commanded over my shoulder before reaching out behind us and shutting the door.

As I carried her across the room to the bed, I couldn’t help but notice how tidy everything was. Unlike my place, there were no clothes or shoes on the floor and nothing was draped across the two blue chairs by the large bay window or the immaculately made bed. Her king size bed sported a dark red comforter with blue and green flower thingys all over it. At least twenty or so pillows of all shapes and sizes were piled up against the headboard. I never understood the point of having so many pillows. All you do is toss them on the floor each night. Not to mention what a pain in the ass they are to put back in the morning.
Give me two pillows and a blanket and I’m good
. The deep, rich red walls made me think of winter and long nights in front of a roaring fire. Not wanting to topple the tower of pillows, I placed her on the foot of the bed. Her lust filled blues peered up at me and I felt ten feet tall. Stepping between her knees, I stared down at her.

“When Charlie asked me to share the stage with you, I pictured a pimply twenty year old.” I confessed.

She snorted. “He called me Ibby, didn’t he?”

“He did.”

“That’s his nickname for me. I don’t have the heart to ask him to stop calling me it.”