Hottest Mess (S.I.N. #2)(48)

“Come on,” he says, leading us the rest of the way inside before opening the note.

I read over his shoulder, then murmur, “Bitch,” as I see the words:

When will you understand? When will you touch me? When will you see that there is no woman except me? They are all just noise coming between us?

I meet Dallas’s eyes. His are hard. Mine, I’m sure, are full of worry. “Give it to Liam,” I say. “Tell him to pull out all the stops. You have to figure it out before she does something.”

“You think she’s unstable.”

“I think she’s a f*cking nutcase,” I admit, and I see Dallas’s shoulders drop as he nods.

“Liam’s on it,” he says. “He doesn’t think it’s Fiona, by the way. She could have an excellent poker face, but he told me he didn’t see even a hint of a reaction when he showed her the envelope in my room and led her out of the house.”

“I already told you who I think it is. And Fiona’s way too young to be the Woman.”

He sighs. “I know.” He pulls me into his arms, then kisses my forehead.

I cling to him. “If it is the Woman and she saw us together—” I tremble, because the Woman is one of the few people in the world who knows what Dallas and I are to each other.

Apparently Dallas is thinking along the same lines, because he asks if I noticed anyone watching us at the movie or at the Balcony.

“No one. You?”

He shakes his head, then kisses me again. “No more worrying about this tonight. Come on,” he says, taking my hand. “I want to take you to bed.”

I smile, forcing myself to shove aside all the fear and worry. “Do you?” I ask as we head for the stairs. “How very bold. And here I thought you were a gentleman.”

“I am,” he says. “I will absolutely make sure that you come first.”

I burst out laughing, then pause on the stairs to look down at him. “I love you.”

“Now who’s being bold on a first date?”

“That would be me.” I step down one so that I am right beside him. “By the way, Mr. Sykes, I intend to take advantage of you tonight.”

“Oh, really?”

“Just fair warning. I’m going to use you. I’m going to take what I want.” I smile, imagining all the delicious possibilities. “I just thought I should let you know.”





Wrecked

Despite my bold pronouncement to take complete advantage of Dallas, we’d made love slowly and sweetly, then curled up in each other’s arms. He never said a word about my apparently unfulfilled promise, and I hadn’t mentioned it either.

But I hadn’t forgotten.

Now, I lay propped up beside him on an elbow, watching his eyes move behind his lids as he dreams. I’d dozed briefly as he’d slept, but then I’d climbed out of bed to go work a bit on my screenplay, too charged up emotionally to succumb to slumber.

Besides, I had a plan, and that required making sure that I didn’t sleep through until morning.

Now, I’m back in bed and my plan is at the forefront of my thoughts.

Gently, I tug the sheet down, exposing all of him. He’s semi-erect, and I smile to myself, wondering what he’s dreaming and planning to make it so much better.

I stroke my hand over his belly, then watch as his body reacts. His muscles tighten in response to my touch. I’m gentle—I’m not ready for him to wake up just yet—and I’m enjoying watching the pleasure of my touch work its way into his dreams.

He turns his head, his lips parting. And as my hand slides lower—as I press a gentle kiss to his breast and lick his nipple—I feel the movement in his hips and a tightening of the muscles throughout his body. I look down and see that he’s harder now. Almost fully erect. And I hope that he’s dreaming of me.

Slowly, I work kisses down his abdomen, along the trail of hair, and then I run my tongue along the length of his cock. He groans in his sleep, and I freeze for a moment, because I’m still not ready for him to wake. I told him that I was going to take what I wanted, and I meant it.

Tonight, I want his cock.

I smile as I move to straddle him. We’ve done this before, and I essentially told him I was going to do it again, so I feel perfectly justified in taking what I want—especially when I know that he wants it, too.

He’s hard, so damn hard, and we fit together so perfectly. I sigh with pleasure as he fills me. As I raise and lower myself, taking him. Pumping him.

He feels it, too. I can tell by the incredible sensation of him inside me as well as by the way his body writhes beneath mine. He is close, and I think that if I can just take him all the way—if he will just come inside me even in this dreamland—then it will break the spell. Like the princess kissing the sleeping prince and waking him once more.

I think that I am succeeding. Beneath me, he begins to move more wildly, and just when I think that he is there, he opens his eyes and stares into mine.

I gasp because he is still hard, and for a moment I am overwhelmed with the power of everything that is between us. But that changes in an instant. He moves fast, rolling us over until he is on top of me and no longer inside of me. He yanks me to my feet, his hands clenching painfully tight around my upper arms.

I gasp, trying to read his expression, but he’s not with me—I can see that clearly enough now. He’s dreaming. He’s fifteen. And I’m certain that in his dream he is doing exactly what I told him to do.