“If it makes you feel better to put your failures on me, I don’t care. But don’t you dare bother my dad. I’m getting a restraining order.”
“Like hell you will. No judge will give you that. You fucking—”
Dylan punched him the next second. Elliot stumbled backward, holding his cheek. “What the hell? Who do you think you are?”
Dylan stepped closer, and Elliot practically cowered into the wall. “The man who sees in her everything you were stupid enough not to appreciate. I’m only going to say this once. Restraining order or not, if you ever show your face around here, that black eye you’ll have tomorrow will be the least of your problems.”
“You think you’re hot shit because you’re wearing an expensive suit?” Elliot asked, but I could tell he was just trying to keep up the bravado.
“Don’t test me more than you already have.” Dylan leaned into him, and Elliot nearly fainted into a puddle. He was such a coward, and I was so damn pissed.
He looked over my shoulder. A police car parked behind Dylan’s BMW. Finally. It was the same police officer who took Dad’s testimony the first time around. I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking why it took him so long to show up when he came up to us.
He glanced at the scene, shaking his head. “Ms. Dawson, did this man attempt a forced entry again?”
“I didn’t touch that damn door,” Elliot said.
“But he’s been in front of Dad’s house for over an hour, consistently ringing the doorbell. Does that count toward anything for the restraining order?”
The police officer nodded. “I’m going to write that up, and based on my experience, it will help your lawyer build up a case.”
“What the fuck?” Elliot exclaimed.
“And you have to leave these premises at once, or you’re coming with me,” the officer said calmly.
“On what charge?”
“Disturbing the peace.”
Elliot swore, spitting on the ground before turning around and walking away briskly.
The officer went over to his car, filling out a report. I immediately took Dylan’s hand in mine, inspecting his knuckles. They were red.
“Is it hurting?” I whispered.
“If I say yes, will you take care of it? Thoroughly?” he teased. His smile was playful, but his gaze was still intense.
I kissed his jaw, shrugging.
“Very thoroughly. That’s a promise.”
He put his other hand around my waist, keeping me close. This man’s protective streak was going to be my kryptonite.
The officer left after handing me his report, and then Dylan and I went inside the house. Dad was in the living room with headphones, listening to one of his YouTube videos. He took the headphones off when he noticed us.
“Everything’s fine, Dad. Elliot left, and the officer gave me a report I can use for the restraining order.”
He looked down at Dylan’s hand. “Did Elliot accidentally walk into your fist?”
Dylan laughed. “He did.”
“I have ice in the freezer,” Dad said.
“I’ll do that at home,” Dylan replied.
Dad looked at the digital clock on his microwave with a frown. “It’s late. You two go home. I’m fine. I’m going to lie down too.”
“Are you sure?” Dylan asked him.
Dad waved his hands in a shooing motion. “Yes, yes.”
“Want me to do anything before I leave?” I asked. I wanted to dote on Dad a bit, but he vehemently shook his head. He was used to having his own space, so I knew better than to insist. Taking care of Dad was always a balancing act. He didn’t like being coddled.
Dylan led me out of the house with an arm around my waist. I loved that he couldn’t stop touching me.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked on the drive back.
“Honestly, I’m too overwhelmed by everything. I’m sorry about this,” I said, taking his right hand in mine and kissing his knuckles.
“I’ve wanted to do it since he showed up at your apartment that first time. Fucking moron.” To my astonishment, he chuckled.
“What?” I inquired.
“Ian’s going to have a field day with this. He kept saying we should take matters into our hands. Note the use of ‘we.’ And I kept saying it’s best to stay out of it. He’ll be really proud of my right hook.”
The way they all cared about each other—and about Dad and me—was surreal. I kept kissing and stroking the skin around the reddened knuckles as we approached Manhattan.
Once we were back inside his apartment, I took ice from the freezer.
“I’m sorry that our pre-celebration dinner was interrupted,” I said, running an ice cube gently over his knuckles as we both leaned against the kitchen counter.
He kissed the side of my head. “Doesn’t matter. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? You looked hurt.”
I winced. “Wouldn’t you be? I mean, the things he said... he made it sound like I was the worst choice he’d ever made. I felt so small.” My chest heaved up and down as I inhaled deeply.
He tilted my head backward, trapping my gaze with his. “Don’t. You’re fucking amazing, and being with you is a privilege, okay? Don’t doubt that.”
“I’m still reeling from everything. Especially this.” I skimmed my thumb on the back of his hand, below his knuckles. Bringing his hand to my mouth, I rained light kisses on the same spot. “I’ll take care of it.”
“You can take care of other parts too,” he said playfully.
I laughed. “You’re such a guy. Not even some bruised knuckles can take your mind out of the gutter, huh?”
“No way in hell.”
His easy smile turned slightly wolfish. I grinned right back, deciding on my seduction tactic. Should I tease him with foreplay or not?
He decided for me, capturing my mouth as he slid one hand under my shirt, dragging the ice cube up my belly. My skin instantly turned sensitive. I half laughed, half moaned as his hand found a way into my bra cup, moving the cube around my nipple. Pleasure shot through me, straight to my clit. I fisted his shirt, pressing my thighs together.
Holy shit!
“Hey, I thought I was supposed to run this show.” I tried to pretend I was protesting, but I was enjoying his ministrations too much.
“Changed my mind.”
“Of course you did.”
“Anything against that?” he murmured, moving the ice cube to my other breast.
“Nothing at all.”
“Good. Because you’re all mine, Mel, and I’m going to prove it to you tonight.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Dylan
The next day felt like a marathon. I worked from home, wanting to focus 100 percent on the submission. At the office, there was always someone coming in with questions or an update. Mel left for the gym early in the morning, and I locked myself in my home office. I communicated through Zoom with the two team members who’d worked on the code and submission process with me, but ultimately I was the one uploading everything. Ian made fun of me for being a control freak, but I didn’t want to leave any room for errors. My right hand was still hurting from yesterday, so I kept flexing it often.