Текст книги "Daring Dylan "

Автор книги: Jacie Floyd

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Chapter Eighteen

The upper level contained four bedrooms and two baths. Gracie grimaced from the doorway of the first, second, and third bedrooms, but something about the fourth one drew her in.

Glancing around, Dylan tried to determine the source of her interest. Notches and initials marred what remained of the bed’s headboard. A chest of drawers lay in pieces. Stuffing spilled out of a stained and undulating mattress. He could only imagine what kind of critters resided inside. Maybe the kind with wicked teeth that had chewed holes through the floorboards.

“If I remember right, this room has a beautiful view.” Gracie pushed aside the tattered curtains at one of the windows.

Coming up behind her, he peered over her shoulder. The moon and stars sprinkled the water on the bay with crystal shimmers. The line of pine trees hulked along the coastline like menacing sentries. A giant maple hugged the cabin and framed the scene within its sturdy branches.

He gave into the moment, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. Her tantalizing scent and the hypnotic movement of the tide helped soothe the frustrations of the past few days.

New York, the stock market, and his meaningless social life drifted a million miles away. A lick of surprise lashed down his spine as he identified the woman in his arms as the source of his contentment.

He didn’t want to feel all warm and fuzzy about her. Didn’t want to feel at home here. Didn’t want Gracie to fit against him so perfectly. Good thing he was going to get a taste of real life in the civilized world tomorrow, before he forgot how well it suited him. How rich and fulfilling it was.

Yeah, right.

Natalie always warned him that he’d been looking in the wrong places for happiness. Except for the times he spent with his family, his search for anything deeper than surface joy had proved futile.

Without putting the true name to it, he knew he wanted what the other Bradfords had—marriage, with no option for divorce. But the only reason he believed he’d ever be mature enough to form that kind of lasting bond was because his father had.

Now with all the evidence pointing to the contrary, the thought didn’t offer much hope.  He’d never been faithful to anyone for longer than a few weeks. He couldn’t imagine the monotony of trying. Except that thoughts of Gracie defied monotony.

Still, he had to believe distance was the best test for this unlikely attraction. He pulled his arms tightly around her for one final squeeze. She rubbed her cheek against his chest like an affectionate kitten. A damned sexy kitten. Hell.

He had every intention of moving away. But first, he bent his head to nuzzle the side of her neck. Her breath hitched, and she turned her head to look up at him.

Their mouths met, and she turned her body into his. Her welcoming warmth and sweet response encouraged him to deepen the kiss. The delicious sensation of her mouth whet his appetite for much more.

His hands gravitated to the hem of her shirt. She lifted it over her ribs, past the fullness of her beautiful breasts and over her head. Moonbeams highlighted the lace that covered her creamy white flesh. His fingers curled toward the front clasp of her bra, caressing the smooth warmth of her skin.

He paused to memorize her breath-stealing beauty in the silvery light. Impatient, she placed her palm against the nape of his neck and pulled him forward. He lowered his head to nibble an erect nipple.

Closing his mouth over the pink tip, he grazed her with his teeth. This was the beginning of heaven. This was—

The crash of breaking glass shattered the thought.

Gracie’s moan of pleasure shifted to a startled “Oh!”

He lifted his head. “Now what?”

“Another crazed animal?” Reluctantly, she moved reached for her shirt. “We should check it out.”

“Not yet.” He held her firmly against him. “I’ve seen all the wildlife I need for the night, but not nearly enough of you.”

Although she seemed intent on continuing the discussion, he captured her mouth with his. Delving deeply with his tongue, he tasted her voraciously. Her mouth moved beneath his, and she teased his tongue, abandoning resistance. She pushed away and fumbled with his belt buckle. Just as she unfastened the clasp, she pulled in a deep, steadying breath, stopped, wrinkled her nose, and sniffed again.

All right, he probably did smell like a grub worm, but no worse than he had a few minutes ago. He sniffed, too.

“Smells like smoke.” He ground his teeth over yet another interruption.

She lifted an eyebrow. “Expecting someone?”

“Are you kidding? If I had a gun, I’d shoot whoever it is. Especially if it’s Clayton.” He let his gaze linger on her for another frustrated moment. “Come on.” He refastened the clasp on her bra. “I’m not big on sharing. Let’s get you dressed before whoever it is barges in.” Smoothing his hands across her breasts, he settled her shirt into place then rubbed his thumbs across her nipples. “Damn, their timing stinks.” With a grimace of regret, he took her hand and headed for the hall.

Heat singed the air around them, and the acrid smoke burned Dylan’s nose before they took a single step outside the room. A look of alarm flashed between them as they rushed to the top of the stairs. Mid-way down, clouds of smoke billowed toward them, and vicious tongues of flame licked upward.

A fiery inferno encompassed the entire first floor and greedily ate its way toward them.

“Go back!” Dylan shouted.

Turning, he pushed her into the bedroom and slammed the door behind them. She rushed to the window by the big maple and tried to raise it, but it stuck tight. As she struggled with it, he tugged on another one without success.

“Damn!” He coughed as smoke seared his lungs and the floor beneath his feet scorched the soles of his shoes. “This old tinderbox is going up fast.”

“We’ll have to jump,” she shouted over the crackling blaze.

Trapped in an agonizing haze of slow motion, he crouched and fought his way through the sea of unbreathable air. Rings of flame consumed the ancient hardwood floor like a fire-breathing dragon.

Fear for Gracie’s safety propelled him into action. He shoved her face first into a corner then picked up the remnants of a dresser drawer. Covering his eyes with a forearm, he heaved the drawer through the window. She raced forward and kicked away the jagged shards of glass that rimmed the frame with her booted foot.

“Hurry,” Dylan ordered. “You need to get out of here.”

“You, too,” she insisted.

“I’m right behind you.” He pressed a quick hard kiss onto her mouth before he grabbed her by the waist and forced her onto the windowsill. Expecting her to drop to the ground, his heart almost stopped beating when she leaped upward like a trapeze artist and grabbed hold of a branch on the giant maple.

Hanging full-length, with her legs swinging beneath her, one of her hands slipped loose. He gasped and reached for her as she lurched forward and latched onto a limb a foot lower than her original target. With the ease of a gymnast, she swung her feet over the branch and pulled herself up to straddle it.

“Come on.” She gestured for him to follow. “Hurry!”

After wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, he lunged after her. As his boots left the floor, it collapsed beneath him, sending sparks and embers gushing upward. He pushed off the sill and latched onto the branch she’d missed.

In the fiery light, they scrambled toward the vee of the tree trunk. Reaching nominal safety, they collapsed into each other’s arms, pulling deep gulps of relatively fresh air into their dry and burning lungs.

“Thank God you’re all right.” He delayed for one precious second to inventory her condition. Soot smudged her cheek, her shirt hung in tatters, and an ugly scratch marred her neck. She’d never looked more beautiful. He brushed his fingertips across her cheek. “You are all right, right?”

“I’m fine.” She smiled through wobbly lips. “You?”

“Couldn’t be better.” After their narrow escape, all of a sudden life seemed good again. Very, very good.

Flame shot into the sky as the collapse of an inner wall jerked him back to the reality of their present location. He dropped to the ground and held up a hand to Gracie.

She grabbed hold of it and pulled it closer to her face to examine more closely. “Your palm’s a mess. From the tree bark?”

“Probably.” He turned her hand over and slid his thumb across her palm. “Yours too.” He pressed a kiss into the middle of it. “Come on. That’s the least of our worries at the moment.”

Clinging to one another as they retreated to a safe distance, they turned back to watch in morbid fascination as flames devoured the century-old wooden building.

The roof caved in with a giant whoosh of heat and flame. Embers exploded outward, singeing their skin, clothes, hair, and eyebrows. A moment of sadness over the loss of more family history combined with the sooty air to burn Dylan’s eyes with a sheen of tears.

“We should call for help,” Gracie said as they fled to a safer vantage point.

“Not much help for it now,” he murmured.

“There could be other dangers.”

“We’ve had plenty of rain lately, so it shouldn’t spread.”

He led her in a wide circuit around the burning cabin to where their cars were parked. She stayed snug by his side. He nodded, but his mind was someplace else, on something that nagged at him just below the surface. And then it hit him. “Gracie, what do you hear?”

She tilted her head to listen. “I can’t hear anything over the roar of the fire.”

“And a boat engine. Do you hear it?”

“Yes! Out in the cove. Maybe the Coast Guard or night fishermen saw the fire and are coming in to investigate.”

“It sounds like it’s going out to sea, not coming in.”

“Yeah, it does. No help there.” She reached into her jeans pockets and came out empty handed. Her face rumpled in the wash of a fiery glow. “Oh no,” she said, tears welling. “I don’t have my keys.”

“It’s all right, babe. Don’t cry.” He pulled her to him.

“My keys and my phone were in my jacket pocket,” she got out before the tears spilled down her cheeks. “Inside the cabin.”

Tears and Gracie. He never would have thought the two went together, but he sympathized with the reaction. The least little thing would set him off right about now, too.

“Shhh, shhh,” he soothed, cuddling her against him. “Everything will be all right. I’ll get you a new jacket and phone, and your grandmother probably has a spare set of keys.”

“But you could have been killed.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands as she battled for control.

His own fear at seeing Gracie’s life at risk resurfaced, making speech difficult. “Me? I was more worried about getting you out of there than anything else.”

They looked at each other with sudden awareness. With their gazes linked, he felt their hearts link together too. Click. As simple as that. There was so much to say, too much. As it always seemed to be the case with Gracie, this was the wrong time and the wrong place.

“Call the fire department.” He put his hand on her arm and pushed her away, choosing to end the moment rather than say something inopportune. “My new cell phone gets pretty good reception out here. It’s in the car.”

“It’s been a hell of a night.” Dylan brought the Navigator to a stop by the carriage house near dawn.

“Yeah.” Gracie nodded, too numb and tired to say more.

Staying busy had been the only way she’d been able to keep from trembling continuously. Since she’d been a volunteer firefighter in the past, she’d donned fire gear and helped out when one of the men needed a break. Taking Dylan’s car, she’d gone for food and coffee more than once. She’d administered first aid as needed and answered questions asked by the fire marshal and police chief. She and Dylan had stayed until there was nothing left to do but sift through the ashes.

“You were amazing.” In the darkness, his voice sounded low, intimate. Exhausted.

“I’m going to have to shower for about a week to get rid of this stench.” She rubbed her face with her bandaged hands, ill at ease with him now that the excitement was over.

“A shower sounds good.”

What did he mean by that? If he wanted something from her, he’d have to spell it out. Reading between the lines had never been her strong suit.

“I’ll let you get to it then.” She groped for the door handle.

He swung open the door on his side and stepped out of the car. Dirt, smudges, rips, and tears marred his usual perfection. Damn him, he looked more desirable than ever.

Aware of her dwindling self-control, she needed to get away from him before she threw herself at him. Again. She’d been nearly naked before the fire broke out, but what if he’d been too polite or too horny to refuse what she’d offered? In the kitchen after the pizza, he’d had no trouble controlling his response.

And then, she’d cried in front of him once they’d escaped the worst of the danger. She’d seldom cried since her mother’s death. But she’d let herself fall apart like some weak, weepy female who stood around wringing her hands and waiting to be rescued.

With one kind look or sympathetic word, she’d be in his arms again, and clearly, she wasn’t up to dealing with him now. She’d prefer solitude when she suffered her nervous breakdown.

“See you tomorrow,” she said as if this were the end of an ordinary evening. “Call me before you leave for New York.” She waved her hand in a little farewell, but he moved toward her.

“Gracie, wait.”

Wait? She couldn’t wait. She almost desperately wanted his warmth, the solid feel of him, and any comfort he could offer. Retreat was the only sensible route open to her.

“Tomorrow,” she repeated, tramping up the stairs without looking back. Her hands shook so hard from exhaustion and reaction, she couldn’t have found the keyhole if she still had a key to put in it. Good thing she hadn’t locked up when she left, or she’d have had no option but to go over to the main house with Dylan. And spending the night under separate roofs was definitely the wiser course.

Inside her apartment, she toed off her shoes and scooped up MacDuff, soaking in the comfort of his warm, furry body. A semi-hysterical chuckle escaped her when he licked her face. Only he would truly appreciate the fact that she looked and smelled like Smoky the Bear. When the dog finally wriggled to get down, all Gracie wanted was to enjoy the luxury of a hot, soapy shower.

And then she wanted clean, cool sheets.

And sleep. Lots of deep, mind-numbing sleep to block out the recurring bouts of terror she couldn’t seem to banish for intervals longer than five minutes at a time.

Of course, in the best of all possible worlds, having Dylan in bed beside her would help—inside her would be even better. Her blood hummed with the need for him that had tempted her all week and had been aroused to gigantic proportions earlier that evening. She knew better than to cast her thoughts in that direction. It would be stupid to give in to weakness.

When the shower water finally ran cold, she’d scrubbed and steamed away the grit and grime. But neither the remnants of fear nor her need for Dylan had been washed down the drain.

Dressed in a cotton T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, she wrapped her wet hair in a towel, turban-style. In the shower, she’d noticed a jagged scrape on her arm. The EMTs had treated her hands and the gash on her neck, but the place on her arm required attention, too. While she pulled out her medical bag, a knock sounded on the door. With a leap of her pulse, she knew without looking that Dylan lurked on the other side.

“What are you doing here?” The question came out more sharply than she intended, but did he have to look so gorgeous? Did he have to have a five-hundred-dollar haircut that fell perfectly, wet or dry, combed or not? Did he have to have deep, insightful eyes that warmed her in hidden places? Did he have to have those strong, magnificent arms she wanted to have wrapped around her? And if he had to have all those things, now, when she was at her most vulnerable, why, oh why, couldn’t he have had the good sense to stay away?

Chapter Nineteen

“Too wired to sleep.” His gaze made a slow sweep from towel to toe and lingered over interesting bits along the way. “When I saw your light on, I hoped you’d want company.”

She reached up to tuck the towel more firmly around her head. Before she could make up her mind about his offer, he took her hand and bent her arm at the elbow. “How did this happen?” He gestured to the scrap she’d discovered earlier.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe from the window. Or the tree branch.”

“Where’s the antiseptic?” He sounded brusque, almost angry. “In the bathroom?” He didn’t wait for confirmation but headed that way, pulling her along with him.

“It’s not that bad. I’ll take care of it.” She squirmed at the idea of him opening her medicine cabinet and tending to her in a personal, proprietary way in the close quarters of the bathroom. Besides, she could take care of herself—if he weren’t standing so close.

“One-handed? I don’t think so.” In the bathroom, he pinned her arm firmly between them, peering at the wound as he cleaned and disinfected it with the supplies she handed him. “Does it need stitches?”

“No,” she said, in a high thin voice she wouldn’t have recognized as hers.

“Okay.” His nod of understanding that only flustered her more.

She looked up in time to see a flicker of interest in his eyes, deep and inviting, as if he intended to wrap her inside his heat and never let her go. He must have looked at a thousand women that way, but he had never looked at her that way. No one ever had.

While her head spun with the possibilities, she thought he was bending over her arm for an up-close inspection of her wound. Instead, he nearly sent her through the roof when he pursed his lips and blew on it.

“Don’t!” Less worried about germs than about her skyrocketing heart rate, she jumped back and bumped her head on the door. “Ow.”

God, why was she so awkward and bad at this? She didn’t excel at physical relationships at the best of times. Responding to any move by Dylan when her defenses dipped so low would be the height of insanity.

Especially after the devastating way her relationship with Baxter had ended. Any scraps of sexual self-confidence that remained after her experience with him would be destroyed by one cross-eyed look, laugh, or smirk from Dylan.

“I’m sorry you got hurt.” His lips grazed her wrist so feather-light she couldn’t be positive he’d kissed it. Surely he hadn’t. Had he? Did he have no understanding of diseases transmitted through bodily fluids?

“Not your fault.” Removing her arm from his grasp, she held it against her chest. She tried to ease away from him, but he took another step closer, trapping her body between his and the sink.

“It was my cabin.”

“You didn’t start the fire.” The fire chief’s arson theory did seem like the most reasonable explanation.

“Someone with a grudge against me or my family did, which still makes me responsible.”

“You don’t think it was someone local, do you?” She wanted to take her mind off the thoughtful way he watched her. But every time she remembered the floor collapsing under his feet, shivers racked her. “If someone was angry about your family closing the factory, why wait until now to get revenge? And wouldn’t the factory building have been a more suitable target?”

“Maybe in all my bungling around this week, I offended someone more than I realized.”

Did he realize that his fingers stroked the inside of her arm?       “Wh-who?”

“If I knew, I’d be out there ripping them a new one for putting you in danger.”

Simmering anger surged to life in his eyes. For him to be so angry on her behalf stunned her. He reached for her then, and every living tissue in her body shouted yes!

He was all wrong for her, but he was here and he was the one she wanted. She wanted to run her hands down his body and take his mouth with hers. She wanted to slide against his skin, to feel him inside her, to forget about fire and destruction and near death experiences.

“I thought you didn’t want me,” she confessed as he closed the gap between them.

“Not want you?” His chuckle caressed her cheek. “I’ve only known you for three days, but I’ve wanted you forever.” Caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers, he stroked down her jaw to the hollow at the base of her neck.

Even as Gracie drowned in his words and touch, an inner voice whispered caution. She inched away from him. “You managed to stop earlier.”

“My mistake.” He pulled her in close. “I wanted to wait to be with you until everything was perfect. But when the cabin went up in flames, I thought, you’re perfect, Gracie. To hell with everything else.” He kissed her chin. “When you jumped out the window, I promised myself that if we made it out safely, the very first thing I was gonna do afterward was make love to you.”

“Don’t I have anything to say about it?” she asked around the lick of his tongue. What if they made love and she disappointed him? She couldn’t live with the humiliation or disappointment.

“You’re the only one who does.” He cradled her head in Neosporin-scented hands. His fingers tunneled beneath the towel and massaged their way along her scalp, sending tingles rippling down her spine.

“You say stop, we stop. But nothing else in this world will keep me from having you right here. Right now. Not raccoons, fires, acts of God, nuclear bombs, or even your grandmother at your door will be able to distract me.” His mouth flirted with hers in a kiss so brief, so gentle she nearly screamed in frustration. “Will they?”

Sensitized in a way she’d never experienced and drained by the effort to hold herself in check, she whispered her answer. “No, they won’t.”

Dylan kissed her then. The kiss was urgent, demanding, hard, telling her with his body, his hands, and his mouth that there would nothing tentative or polite between them. Not tonight, anyway.

Clenching his shirt, she drew him nearer. His hands trailed down her back and cupped her bottom. When he slid his thigh between her legs, she pressed against him. The pressure made her hot, wet, and hungry for more.

Stumbling toward the bedroom, they tripped on the clothes that fell to the floor along the way. He rolled her onto the bed, twisting to catch her weight on top of him. His gaze moved over her, his eyes dark and excited. Appreciative.

That look made her feel beautiful and desirable. It gave her confidence. She rubbed against him, creating a friction between the smoothness of her skin and the crinkly hair on his chest that made her shiver.

And then, he moved. Moved his hands on her. His body against hers. He never stopped moving, never stopped touching her everywhere—stomach, breast, knee, thigh. More, more, she needed more.

She needed to touch him as he touched her.

The corded muscles of his shoulders and back rippled as she stroked her hands across them. Every part of him felt like polished steel. His breath caught when she ran her fingers across his stomach. Her tongue across his nipple brought forth her name on a groan.

He took her nipple in his mouth and pulled urgently. Sensation shot through her like wildfire. The need to be completely naked or spontaneously combust expanded inside her. She shoved off her panties, and he slipped his finger against her heat. Stoking the fire. Finding her moistness. Slick, slippery. Ready. She groaned and pressed against his hand, eager and breathless.

He stood to shuck off his jeans then returned to her gloriously naked, his erection standing proud. She wanted to look at him, to memorize him—the most beautiful, perfect man she’d ever seen, long limbed and muscular. He dropped down beside her and immediately licked down her stomach. Then lower.

“Finally.” He breathed against her, heating her up before separating her folds with his tongue. He nibbled, he sucked—oh, God—sensation rippled through her as he brought her to the brink.

Not yet, she wanted to protest, don’t let it be over, but she couldn’t create coherent words. She could only moan his name.

He didn’t let up, building the waves of pleasure, pulling her toward climax, demanding her trust. Taking her as far as she could go. Farther than she’d ever been before. His mouth stayed on her to the last ripple, to the final incredible convulsion.

Every tense muscle in her body relaxed. She’d never felt so shattered, so fulfilled, so... restless and aroused. Long and thick and hard, he pressed against her leg. She wanted him inside her. Now.

Gripping his hair in her fists, she pulled him up. “We’re not done.

“We’re not even halfway there yet.”

Moving over her, he began the slide into her, inch by heavenly inch. Smooth and hard, he pushed inside, delving impossibly deep, to her very center. The center of her body and soul.

“Wait,” she ordered. “Wait.” She savored the moment, reveled in the triumph.

He rocked against her.

“Mmmm.” She lifted her hips and tilted upward. “I love the feel of skin against skin.” She hugged her legs around his hips to hold him close, pulling him deeper inside.

“Me, too.” His breath tickled the ear he nibbled. He lifted his head, smiling his pleasure.

Their eyes met, and she read first the soul-deep satisfaction and then the blaze of alarm. They stiffened at the same moment. He stopped mid-stroke.

“Skin against skin?” he ground out between clenched teeth. “Christ, I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“We have to stop!” She prayed for an alternative. Hmmm. He was already in place. They’d moved past the moment of no return for safety’s sake, both pregnancy-wise and health-wise. Maybe if he pulled out before…

He dropped his forehead against hers. With what seemed like superhuman effort, he levered his shoulders upward. She noticed his hips didn’t follow. “Maybe if I...”

“No!” She couldn’t let them think that way even if every hormone in her body screamed for her to lock her ankles together, tighten the muscles that sheathed him, and thrust against him, again and again.

He was a man of vast experience. No telling what he’d been exposed to. She taught sex education classes, for God’s sake. They were currently in violation of rule number one. She knew the risks, she knew better than to take chances, for any reason, even if this one time seemed worth it. Even if the damage had already been done.

“I’m healthy,” he said, kissing the side of her neck.

“Me, too, but we have to stop.” She removed her hands from his shoulders and clenched them into fists at her sides to keep from securing him in place.

“You’re right.” The torturous withdrawal began. He eased himself out of her with prolonged agony. Her every heartbeat, every breath raised its own protest until the final whoosh of separation left her bereft. Empty. Cheated. Frustrated.

Her thoughts raced. How close was the nearest convenience store? Five miles? Seven? Would it be open now? What else could they use? Plastic wrap? The finger of a latex glove?

He hovered over her a second longer, pressing a kiss on her mouth that tasted like regret. “Damn.” Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he reached for his jeans. “I’m sorry.”

Oh, no! Is he leaving? A disappointed groan escaped her.

“I know what you mean.” Dylan stroked her nest of curls before pulling a small packet from his pocket. “Hang on a second. I’ll be right back.”

“You’ll be right back?” she asked, ready to kick up her heels and dance around the room.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t prepared. I said I forgot.”

Hurray! He had a condom! “Hurry!”

He palmed his erect cock and wasted no time in suiting up. When he lay on his back and she climbed on board, Gracie experienced the overwhelming sense of coming home.

“Aahhh.” He pushed all the way inside. “Just as good as before.”

She didn’t understand it. That layer of latex normally lessened the pleasure dramatically. For some reason, this time it didn’t.

He steadied her hips against his, holding her firmly as she tested his control, withdrawing a little and thrusting again. His gaze darkened with intensity. His concentration focused as he moved to caress her breasts and graze her nipples with her thumbs.

“Go for it,” he said. “I’ll stay with you as long as I can.”

She rode him long and hard, setting a demanding pace, hard and fast, pushing deep, rocking against him. He matched her rhythm as the tension built and built.

His face became taut and his chest slick with sweat before he bucked with the intensity of his release. With the eruption of his desire, he threw back his head and gritted out her name. “Now, Gracie, now.”

She didn’t just come, she soared. She didn’t just soar, she floated among the stars.

Relaxing her arms, she sank down against him. He wrapped an arm around her and locked her in place. “Now we’re done,” he mumbled. “I can die a happy man.”

A smile curved his lips as he drifted into sleep.

Too stunned to sleep, Gracie examined the moment. What in the world had she been thinking? She had wanted him, but nothing in her past had prepared her for the gift he had given her. Where she had wanted warmth, she got blazing passion. Where she had wanted closeness, she got fusion. Where she had wanted a moment of forgetfulness, she got the memory of a lifetime.

And it wasn’t as if she’d never had an orgasm before. Of course, she had. But Dylan had savored her like Godiva chocolate. He had lapped and nibbled, licked and sucked. Comparing the orgasms she’d had before to the one—two!—she’d had tonight would be like comparing the pop of a firecracker to the explosion of dynamite.

He shifted to his side, wrapped his arm around her middle, and pulled her close. She turned to find him wide-awake and staring at her with a sexy, tender, almost arrogant smile. Normally she would have slugged him for the arrogance, but tonight he had every right to it. If he hadn’t been the one to actually invent sex, then surely he should look into patenting his personal variations.

She would never settle for less again. Of course, how would she know if she were settling until too late? Men didn’t come with ratings tattooed on their foreheads, worst luck. She doubted the social acceptability of asking them if they were as good in bed as Dylan Bradford. Besides, they’d just lie.