Sweet Liar (Dirty Sweet, #1)(10)

I turned on my sexiest Spotify list and replayed the memory, letting the heat and electricity rush through my body like it had when I had been with Dylan. My panties were damp again. The space between my thighs ached, and if I weren’t in a bed that didn’t belong to me, I would have put my hand down and rubbed the desire away.

Instead, I just held the feeling, held the buzz, let it gather within me until every part of my skin was humming and alive. It made for a restless sleep when I shut the lights out hours later, after I’d taken a shower and sketched a bit in my notepad.

It would be worth it, though, I was sure of it. And it wouldn’t be long until I got relief, if everything went the way I hoped it would.





I waited until Sabrina had left before coming out of my room for breakfast. I didn’t want her to drill me about my plans for the day, and boy, did I have plans.

First, I hustled over to a boutique lingerie shop nearby Sabrina’s Midtown apartment. They were on holiday schedule and opened early, so I got what I needed and was at the register well before ten.

With my purchases “in hand,” so to say, I finally pulled out my phone to get ahold of Dylan. Sure, I could have texted him before I’d gone shopping, but I didn’t want to seem desperate, contacting him before the sun had reached a decent place in the sky. Because I wasn’t desperate. I was eager. There was a difference, I was sure.

I had, however, composed my text the night before so it was ready to go with just a press of the send button.

Audrey: Happy Tuesday! Did U sleep OK?





Polite, harmless. A message that wouldn’t scare him off.

Still, he took his time answering. Almost seven whole minutes. Thankfully there was a Starbucks next door so I had a Venti chai tea and a place to sit by the time he responded.

Dylan: I slept well, thank you for asking. And you?





I giggled softly at his formality.

Audrey: Well enough.





If tossing and turning to a night full of erotic dreams was considered well, anyway.

Audrey: What are ur plans for today?





Dylan: I have an appointment with an estate agent to look at an apartment.





I practically squealed. He’d mentioned at dinner that he was looking to buy a place in the city so he could visit his son more often, a place he could eventually give to his son, if he wanted it. But I hadn’t realized he would actually be looking today.

Audrey: Oh, goody! I’ll join u. Tell me where?





While he’d taken his time responding to each of my texts so far, this one came in almost immediately.

Dylan: Ah, no. I don’t think that’s a good idea.





I wasn’t at all discouraged. I was expecting his hesitation. He was a proper man, after all, and oftentimes the things that happened in the dark seemed less than proper in the light of day.

Audrey: It’s an excellent idea! U can’t get a place w/out a 2nd opinion & I have very good taste.





Dylan: I’m sure you do, but I have this handled.





I sipped from my tea, considering what tactic to take next.

Audrey: Come on. Rn’t U curious about the kismet?





Dylan: Still playing that game, are you?





He hadn’t said no, which meant he was curious. How could he not be? I’d felt his curiosity poking at me last night while I straddled his lap.

This text had also come in right away. Which meant I was right about my assessment of Dylan Locke so far—the man responded well to taunting.

I could do taunting. I could do it very well.

Audrey: Find out.





Two little words. They’d do the trick.

Bingo.

Less than a minute later I had an address and a time to meet him. I knew I had taunting down. It was in other areas that I lacked expertise.

For the time being, anyway.





Five





Dylan





I thought she’d be less dangerous in the sunlight.

I was wrong.

She walked into the lobby of the apartment building in Sutton Place, dressed in a red flowy thing that stopped mid-calf and a stylish coat that hit mid-thigh. Her tawny brown hair was loose around her shoulders. But the piece de resistance was the high-heeled black boots that disappeared under her hem. After fantasizing about her the night before, it was impossible not to imagine those shoes wrapped around my waist—wrapped around my face—her body naked and trembling. She was sex on heels, and I was a goner.

But lust wasn’t the only reason I found myself fascinated with her. She and I had shared an evening together, shared the same space, shared the same air, and yet the life that oxygen breathed into her was much different than the life breathed into mine. She inflated into someone animated and vivacious while I was left hollow and shriveled and wrinkled—metaphorically if not exactly literally. It intrigued me. It was like the old adage about onlookers unable to look away from a train wreck, only I was the train wreck, and I couldn’t stop looking when something so unblemished and uncorrupted walked past.

I’d been like her once, hardened by the lessons of reality over the years. While I felt surely she’d have her own dose of truth in time, the thought made me grim. Couldn’t she be spared from the spoils of heartache? If I were a praying man, or even a man who wished for impossible things, I may have spent a great deal of time asking for just that. For Audrey Lind to leave this world as is, unscathed. Unbitter.