Our eyes are locked, his green to my blue, as my mind races with all the things to say in rebuttal to his statement. But before I can get anything out, he says, “You’re absolutely perfect, Ro. I didn’t even say anything about your full lips that could no doubt wrap nicely around my cock, bringing me more pleasure than I ever knew existed, or your tits, which are more than a handful, and I’d be more than happy to suffocate between at any time in my life and know I took my last breath buried in pleasure. And if your pussy…”
“Stop,” I plead, feeling my core pulse, loving the dirty things he’s saying, and somehow imagining his body tangled with mine. “You’re sweet, Dylan. You know the right things to say, but we’re oil and water. Gallos and Walshes don’t mix, remember?”
“I’m sure if we shake it up enough, we would, though, babe. No doubt in my mind.”
Gah. The man is impossible. I squirm, squeezing my legs together, trapping his hand. Wrong move, Ro.
“Thinking about all the pleasure, baby?” he whispers, his thumb stroking my skin softer and slower than before. “I’m sure you’re a firecracker in the sack.”
Again, I gawk at him and wonder how many women he’s been with…the number has to be in the triple digits. No man looks like him and doesn’t get attached without banging everything and anything that offers themselves up on a silver platter.
“I’m decent,” I admit, knowing most men haven’t seemed overly enthusiastic about my bedroom skills. My performance has always been described as lackluster at best, but in my defense, I haven’t met a man who’s had the ability to give me an orgasm. “But that’s beside the point. I don’t want a boyfriend, Dylan, and I’m nobody’s property. You blew into town a few days ago, and I’m sure you’ll blow out just as fast. Let’s call a spade a spade. You’re not a small-town, one-woman-only type of guy. There’s reality, and then there’s some fucked-up fantasy because I got hit in the face tonight. I’m not your problem, your property, or your woman.”
He stands and collapses onto the couch next to me, making me almost topple over into him. Maybe my grand statement is finally getting through to him and making him look at the reality of the situation.
But before I can say anything or he does, he has his arms under and behind me, hauling me into his lap like I’m a rag doll that weighs nothing. I’m momentarily breathless and shocked by his ability and the speed at which he moved without as much as letting out a loud sigh or grunt from picking up my weight.
He continues to shift me, putting my ass on his knees and positioning me so we’re face-to-face and my entire field of vision is only him. “Comfortable?” he asks, as if what he did was no big deal.
“No,” I snap.
He laughs. “Well, I am,” he confesses, making my belly and heart flutter in unison. He moves his hands to my waist, sliding me closer to him so our middles are touching, and there’s no escaping everything that is Dylan Walsh. “I have an idea.”
“Oh boy,” I whisper, trying to ignore the heat of his body and the way mine responds to the hard warmth of him. It’s almost maddening and makes me stupid. “I don’t think I want to hear this.”
He keeps one hand on my hip, moving the other to my back, stroking the sensitive skin right above my leggings. “Word’s going to travel, right?”
“About?” I ask defiantly.
“About what happened tonight and what my motivation was for doing it.”
I nod. “I’m sure we’re the talk of the town.”
Word has probably already spread through most of the population of this small town. I haven’t even bothered to look at my phone, which I don’t doubt is lighting up like a Christmas tree.
He smiles, and I can’t stop myself from frowning.
“And just so we’re clear, I don’t like attention,” I tell him.
“All attention or just gossip?”
“Gossip.”
His fingers slide across my back underneath my shirt, flattening on the middle near my spine. “Babe, no stopping the train now. It’s out of the station and moving full steam ahead. But we can control the narrative.”
“And what narrative would that be?” I ask.
“You say you don’t want a man, but we ran into each other a few days ago after you were on a date and the guy ditched you. So, you’re not being completely honest. You want a man, just not me, which is fine. I can work with that. Minds change.”
“Mine doesn’t,” I argue, but my body language is feeding into him and what he’s saying. I can’t stop myself from reacting to his touch. Small shivers, breathless sighs, and squirming every so often. I hate myself for it, too.
“Whatever you say, babe. We’ll work on that.” He smiles again, and my insides go all gooey. “We can just let things play out. Let people believe we’re a thing. If that guy has any inkling of laying a hand on Luna or you, he’ll think twice. But I’m guessing he won’t dare because the ass-beating I gave him was only an appetizer.”
I shake my head. “It’s not good to solve things with violence.”
“Women talk. Men hit. It’s what we do. It’s the only language we understand sometimes. It’s primal.”
“It’s dumb.”
“Whatever,” he mutters. “Let people think we’re a we. We’ll feed it too. Go out a few times, be seen by the locals. Let them gossip, and your street cred will skyrocket.”
I tilt my head and stare into the depths of his eyes. “And I want street cred because…?”
“Because every guy in this town will be after you from here on out. If they weren’t thinking about banging you, they will now.”
“Wonderful,” I grumble. “Every woman’s dream.”
“You won’t have to go on any more blind dates through those shit apps. You’ll have the pick of the litter,” he tells me as my gaze drops to his lips, unable to stop myself from staring at them.
They’re full and look like they’re soft and made for kissing. I’m sure they’re skilled too, which only makes my body lean into him, wanting to test my theory, but I can’t allow it. I place my hands flat on his chest, regretting the move as soon as I make contact
Sweet Jesus. He’s rock hard underneath the T-shirt. I shouldn’t be surprised by the way the material hugs his body, showing every dip and ridge. But never have I been with a man who is as hard to the touch as he is easy on the eyes.
“So,” I say, but my voice cracks, and I clear my throat to cover the sound. “You want me to use you to attract other men?” My face no doubt portrays the idiocy of the entire statement I just regurgitated.
“Why not?”
“It’s the worst idea ever.”
He moves his hand and I close my eyes, liking the contact way too much. “You can pay me back in other ways.”
I open my eyes, finding his studying my face, smirking.
“We can fool around. Maybe you have an itch I can scratch.”
“No,” I bite out. “I have no itches.”
“You don’t?” he asks, his fingertips lightly sliding up my spine. “You sure?”