Indigo Nights (Nights #3)(57)

I f*cked other women; I made love with Beth. I felt her seep through my skin and become part of me from the moment I touched her. And I knew that no other man had heard the sounds that passed from her lips when I made her come. During our first encounter I’d marveled at how responsive she’d been, but I’d come to realize it was me who did that to her, and in turn she opened me up and I allowed myself to feel more than I ever had.

She opened her eyes and gasped. She tightened and pulsed. I wasn’t going to last long. “Dylan.”

I couldn’t hold back any longer. I needed her to know how I felt. “I love you, Beth.”

I watched, fascinated and full of love as her orgasm exploded over her body. Her limbs shook and she collapsed on top of me. I rounded my hands over her ass and thrust up, desperate for my own release after witnessing hers.

“I love you, too,” she whispered into my ear. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

There was nothing I wanted to hear more. A guttural noise exploded in my throat and my orgasm shot up my spine as I spilled into her, wrapping my arms around her, wanting her as close as possible.

I panted into her hair, breathing in the scent of almonds.

I needed to hold on tight. Beth was the only woman I’d ever need.

I could never lose her.





Beth

Don stood behind me with my case as I unlocked Dylan’s door. It felt odd to let myself into someone else’s house.

After Dylan’s trip to London, it’d seemed ridiculous to insist on staying in a hotel. When he asked me to stay with him again, I said yes. If I’d known he’d smile as though I’d given him the whole world, I wouldn’t have been able to resist in the first place. We loved each other; there was no need to pretend we didn’t want to be with each other every second.

I stepped inside and grinned at the thought of being so close to Dylan. His scent surrounded me instantly; I could almost feel him. He’d stayed with me in London, and now here I was in his. We were beginning to share each other’s lives, become more entwined, more together. And it felt easy, as if my anxieties got farther and farther away, my trust in myself and Dylan growing every time I heard his voice. There might be an ocean between us, but I’d never felt closer to any man.

“Would you mind running me into town if I just use the bathroom quickly?” I asked Don. I had a few hours before Dylan got home and wanted to pick up some ingredients at a specialty kitchen equipment store I’d found online. I also wanted to find a frilly apron so I could greet him as he’d requested.

Although I was meeting with the TV studio on Monday about a possible extension of my slot, and maybe a few stand-alone episodes, I wanted to make the weekend about us—I was hoping we’d spend most of our days together, indoors and preferably in bed.

I was uncomfortable with the attention I was getting from the breakfast show. I’d baked to distract myself from my drinking, not for attention, so it was as if I was in some way being misconstrued—a fraud almost. I was a home baker, not a TV personality.

When I’d set up the YouTube channel, and even when I signed up for A Chicago Saturday, I’d never really thought about the impact it would have on me beyond giving the last four years some meaning outside of keeping me sober. I liked the idea of sharing my love for baking with as many people as possible, and I hadn’t really thought through the implications. That the interaction between viewer and presenter wasn’t one way. I had to hear their opinions of my desserts, which could be kinda tough. Since the shows had aired, Amber kept asking me about interviews and photo shoots. She’d also suggested I get an agent and a publicist. I really wasn’t sure encouraging attention was something I wanted.

I wanted to share without being shared.

Three of my six slots had already aired, the fourth was due to air tomorrow.

Apparently I was a hit.

It had all happened so fast.



“I could take the day off,” Dylan said.

I hadn’t even made it out of bed, yet I felt as if I’d been up for hours. I guess we had, trying to squeeze in every last drop of time together. Since I’d arrived in Chicago at the beginning of the weekend, we’d slept little, talked more and made love even more than that.

It was as if confessing we loved each other had stripped us bare. There was nothing between us anymore, no barriers, no walls. We were a unit. It was safe and intimate and I didn’t want to let the world into it. I wanted to freeze time and just revel in this time together. My life had taught me that the bad times didn’t last, but neither did the good. And although I knew I’d love Dylan for the rest of my life, I also understood that these moments together were special and needed to be savored.

“I just realized my flight’s tonight, and we don’t have any plans to see each other again.” There was a tightness in my brow where I was scowling.

Dylan propped himself up on his elbow. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t have any trips planned, and neither do you.” I wasn’t concerned. I just thought we should decide when we would next come together and come together.

He leaned over me, hovering above my mouth. “I’m flying over on Thursday,” he said, then pressed his lips against mine.

I clasped his shoulders. What? “You’re coming to London?”

“I am. But you know, we have to have a conversation about where we’re going to live at some point.”