“Dylan,” she whispered with all the longing in her heart, which felt like it might burst.
He stilled. “Tee—”
“Please?” she whispered, tipping back her head.
He groaned and crushed her to him. For the most perfect moment in all the moments of her entire life, he lowered his mouth to hers. Soft. Gentle. Patient.
But Tilly wasn’t feeling any of those things, so she tugged him in even closer. Then, on a mission, she touched her tongue to his and . . . the kiss exploded.
It was like nothing she’d ever felt in her entire life as he hauled her in tight and kissed her deep. Her heart pounded, her skin felt too tight for her body, and she loved it.
But then he pulled away.
With a little mewl of protest, she tried to wrap herself around him, but he gripped her arms and held her off. “Tee. Tee, stop. We’re not doing this.”
“Why?” she demanded, and if he said it was because she was too young for him, she was going to—
“You deserve more.”
“I don’t. You’re all I want,” she told him with all the fierceness of her entire soul. “I love you, Dylan. You’re mine, and you know what else? I’m yours.”
He sucked in a hard breath and she realized he was shaking. Shaking with the effort to not kiss her again. Her hands came up to his chest and she fisted her fingers in his shirt, longing, longing . . . for more.
But it wasn’t going to come because he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrists and brought her hands down and stepped back. “’Night, Tee.”
“’Night,” she whispered. Dammit. She took longer going home, dragging it out another good ten minutes, in spite of everything smiling to herself the whole time.
He’d finally kissed her! It had been a life-changing kiss, the kiss of all kisses, and no matter what he said, there’d be more.
Because he loved her too.
She knew that now, and because she did, she could wait for the rest.
On Monday, Dylan got to the college campus early, and thanks to his text, so had the other students. They met in the parking lot around his truck and bent their heads over the set of plans he’d printed out.
“Oh my God.”
“Wow.”
“It’s perfect.”
The low murmurs gave him a surge of hope. “Yeah?” he asked.
Everyone agreed wholeheartedly that he’d knocked it out of the park. “Okay,” he said. “So we’re all clear on our roles there.” He rolled up the plans and stuffed them back into the toolbox in his truck bed just as a voice spoke from behind him.
“What’s going on?”
Everyone turned and looked at Tilly with horrified blank faces. Shit. Dylan shifted, blocking the back of his truck. “We’re working hard on our projects,” he said.
“You are?” Her brow was furrowed in confusion. “Together?”
He stepped toward her, nudging her aside so no one could hear them. “We’re stronger together,” he said and watched her look at him speculatively.
“Are we still talking about the project?” she asked. “Or us?”
“In this case, it’s a little of both.”
She looked past him to the other students. Dylan thought that not one in the bunch would make a good actor—they were all bright eyed and looking like they were holding a big secret.
Which of course they were.
“Look at them,” she whispered and he started to grimace until she finished her sentence. “They’re excited and inspired.”
She sounded so touched that he leaned in to brush a kiss to her temple. “They are excited and inspired,” he said. “By you. You’re doing something really great here, Tee. I hope you know that.”
She let out a breath. “Thank you for saying that, but—”
“It’s true.”
The bell rang. Saved, he thought as everyone headed into class.
The rest of the week went quick. He spent his days working his ass off and his nights seducing Tilly. Best. Week. Ever.
On Friday, he ran from class to work, had several flights and a meeting with Penn and Ric, always with their financial advisor and attorney.
They weren’t yet in the black, but they were ahead of projections to be there by the end of the year. Penn and Ric wanted to celebrate, but he shook his head.
“Tilly’s show is tonight at the gallery,” he said. “You’re both going.”
“Told you he was in over his head,” Penn said to Ric.
Ric nodded. “And it’s about time.”
Dylan opened his mouth, but Ric kept talking. “And we wouldn’t miss the show.”
“Wine, cheese, women . . .” Penn smiled innocently. “Sounds like a great time.”
Dylan pointed at him. “Don’t even think about picking anyone up there tonight.”
“Got it,” Penn said. “But if they pick me up, that’s okay, right?”
Dylan got to the gallery early, wanting to help Tilly set up or just to be moral support. But found Quinn in the parking lot struggling to hoist herself out of her car. He gave her a hand. Actually two hands, and then shook his head when she straightened, a little breathless. “You shouldn’t be driving.”
“I’m still a week away from delivery,” she panted.
“Are you sure?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve gone to the hospital twice with false labor. I’m not going to embarrass myself again. This baby’s going to be halfway out before I go back.”
He winced at the image. “Where’s Mick?”
“He had to run up to San Francisco for a client. He’ll be back before the show’s over so he can support Tilly.”
He led her inside and directly to a chair. Tilly rushed over from the back and dropped to her knees before Quinn. “What is it? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, the baby’s fine! Your boyfriend’s just overprotective.”
Tilly looked up at Dylan and he did his best to indeed look like a guy she might want as her boyfriend, as juvenile as the word sounded. Because he wanted a whole lot more than to be just her boyfriend. He wanted things he hadn’t been able to imagine wanting . . .
“I’m fine,” Quinn repeated and shooed the both of them away. “Go. Go enjoy your show. You look amazing.”
Tilly accepted Dylan’s hand and let him pull her upright. She tugged at the hem of her sexy little black dress that sparkled when she shifted, the material both clingy and yet somehow playing coy with her curves.
“You look beautiful,” he said. Actually she was eye-popping and heart-stopping and he wanted to say so, but Quinn was leaning forward to hear their every word and he didn’t want her to fall out of the chair.
Tilly smiled up at him, her gaze on his mouth. She wanted a kiss and he wanted to give her one. He turned her away from Quinn and leaned in. “That’s some dress,” he whispered, his lips ghosting hers.
She smiled and closed the distance, pressing her mouth to his. “Wore it for you,” she whispered back. “And to distract myself. I’m so nervous.”
“Don’t be.” He let his gaze move around the room, at the dizzying, colorful array of her art, which was just as eye-popping and heart-stopping as the woman. “It’s amazing.” He smiled down at her. “Like you.”