Everything I Left Unsaid(82)

“I’m not scared,” Annie whispered.

“And now you’re lying.”

She shook her head and he eased his grip up under her chin.

“Are you scared of me?”

She shook her head, that white-blond hair falling over her eyes. Dylan reached up and brushed it away, taking in all her softness. Her skin. Her hair. All of it. Her entire body communicated her fear. The white-knuckled grip on the champagne glass, the way her eyes wouldn’t stay locked on his. Her shoulders were up at her ears.

“Then who are you scared of?”

“No one,” she breathed. “I’m fine. Just…maybe nervous.”

Why the f*ck was she lying? He’d kicked women out of his life for far less than lying to his face. If Dylan was thinking at all, he’d pack this girl up and send her on her way.

But he wasn’t thinking. And that always meant trouble.

“No one’s ever gone to all this trouble for me,” she said, putting her hand out toward that gross cheese Margaret insisted was the best and the olives.

“It’s not that much trouble,” Dylan muttered. Truthfully, he would break every rule he had, every promise he’d ever made, and go to all the trouble in the world for this girl and she had no idea. None.

He’d made a joke earlier about her living in a box before. And he knew he wasn’t wrong. She’d talked about her mom, and Dylan had the sense that she wasn’t the only one that had kept Annie small and pushed down.

“I don’t need champagne,” she said, setting down her glass. She was doing it again, that thing that made him nuts. Pushing past her fear to be brave, to reach out, however scared, for what she wanted. “I don’t need fancy cheese and all this…stuff.”

“It’s a seduction, Annie. It’s about want. Not need.”

“You’ve already seduced me,” she whispered. “All I want is you.”

She reached up and pulled the lapels of the robe off her shoulders, revealing herself to him. That creamy skin. The small, round, tight breasts with the pink nipples. She pulled open the belt and the rest of the robe fell away and she sat there surrounded in black satin, like a present just for Dylan.

And Jesus…she’d shaved.

That tender sweet spot between her legs was nearly bare.

“Oh baby, look at you…”

“Finish this,” she said. There were two terrible, trembling inches between them. She couldn’t hide how much she wanted him. But she also couldn’t hide how much she didn’t want to want him. “Just…let’s finish this.”

“You think if we f*ck each other hard enough it will go away?” he asked her. He was already hard as steel behind his zipper. “We’ll get it out of our systems?”

“That has to work,” she said. “It has to.”

Dylan pushed back her hair, holding her face in his hard hands. He was worlds too rough. Worlds too wrong. But he was going to take what she was offering. “You really are innocent, aren’t you?”

She shook her head and he could feel her shaking in her skin. Her eyes were frantic on his.

“If we do this right, it’s only going to get worse.”

Dylan didn’t give her a chance to argue. He picked her up again, his hands under her armpits, and she wasn’t awkward this time. She put her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and he carried her down the hallway again, this time straight to his bedroom. Where it was dark and still.

No one had ever been here with him. Not ever. And when she left, he knew her ghost was going to haunt this bedroom. This whole damn house. And it pissed him off. It pissed him off that he wasn’t strong enough to stop it. That he had no shred of control left with this girl. She stripped it all away with her wide eyes and her clenched fists and all her secrets and lies.

“Lie back,” he growled into her ear, and when he let go, she fell back onto the bed, naked and beautiful against the dark, silky duvet.

Dylan stood over her, fully clothed, his dick so hard it hurt.

Who the f*ck was this girl to do this to him?

No one, he wanted to say, wanting her to be nothing. Wanting her to not matter. She was just a lying bit of trash from a trailer park who happened to pick up a phone call.

But it wasn’t true.

She was f*cking killing him.

“You got something you want to tell me, don’t you?” he asked.

She blinked up at Dylan and then tried to scoot away to the other side of the bed, but he grabbed her leg. Not hard. Just enough to hold her.

“No,” she said. “I’m not going to tell you. And you’ve got no right to be mad. You’re not telling me things either.”

Wasn’t that the truth? In a heartbeat he saw what a dead end this was and how fast they were rushing toward it. And because it was his nature to destroy, he put his foot on the gas and made sure when they hit that dead end they were really over. That there would be no pieces for them to pick up.

“Past this,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. “You can stay in my place in Charleston. I want you to. I want you to be safe. And you can call if you need help. Margaret will take care of you. Or one of my guys. But it won’t be me. We are never going to talk or see each other again. Ever again. Do you understand that?”

She nodded, her cheeks bright. Her eyes brighter.