Sweet Liar (Dirty Sweet, #1)(22)

Humming to myself, I set the phone on the nightstand, turned off the lamp, and climbed under the covers. I was all talk about all-nighters. In truth, I liked my sleep.

But I sat awake for a long time, smiling in the dark, as I thought about all the possible ways Dylan would enjoy me.





I got trapped.

After a full day of sightseeing and holiday activities, I’d figured that Sabrina would want to call it a night as soon as the Rockettes’ show was over. Especially since she was also exhausted from the emotional turbulence of her relationship with Donovan Kincaid.

Unfortunately, she’d gotten a second wind right as the curtains closed, and instead of going straight back to her apartment like I’d hoped, we ended up at a Don’t Tell Mama’s until almost two in the morning.

I might have tried to persuade her that I was tired, but she knew me better than that. And she needed to have a good time, a night where she could unload all her worry on me. I rarely got to be the comforter between the two of us. She was my sister, but in many ways she was also my mother. Even when I wanted to be there for her, she rarely allowed it.

This time it was Dylan who texted to check in on me. Not wanting to divert my attention away from Sabrina, I hadn’t gotten a chance to reply until Sabrina and I were in our separate rooms back at her place.

Audrey: I just got home! I’m so sorry! Is it too late to come over?





I wasn’t even sure he’d answer at this time of night, and if he did, I was certain he’d want to reschedule.

But I was wrong.

Dylan: No worries. I got a nap in this afternoon. But I don’t want you taking an Uber at this time of night. I’ll send my car for you. Text me when you’re in my lobby so I know you’ve arrived safely.





He “got a nap.” I chuckled out loud. Either he was taking this project ultra seriously, or he was winding me up for a change. I had a feeling both were likely.

And he was sending me his car—that was...nice. Really nice. Make-my-heart-flip-in-my-chest kind of nice. He was essentially a stranger and still he cared about my safety. I’d practically been engaged to my last boyfriend, Mateo, and he’d never been the slightest bit concerned about me walking around late at night after study sessions. Certainly a university campus was at least as dangerous as a sidewalk in Midtown for a girl like me.

Grateful and glad that our plans were still on, I threw Dylan a quick text back before slipping out of Sabrina’s apartment.

Audrey: Thanks for looking out for me, Daddy. ;)





His reply came when I was in the elevator.

Dylan: I sense teasing in your last message.





And another followed right after, one that instantly made me feel the most taboo kind of sexy.

Dylan: Be careful. Daddy only rewards girls who show him respect.





Oh, boy. Dylan was good.

When I got to the lobby of Sabrina’s building, I realized exactly how good he was—the car was already waiting for me. He must have had it on standby, ready for whenever I finally got back to him.

The ride to Dylan’s apartment was quick with the late-night quiet—eh, quieter—streets. I hummed Christmas songs from the show as we drove, and even though I still had the key Jeff Jones had given me, I texted Dylan as soon as I got there to let him know I’d arrived like he’d asked. The key got me in the front door without trouble and into the elevator, so I was bouncing down the hallway toward his unit in a matter of minutes.

All of it had happened so fast, in fact, that it wasn’t until I was outside his door with the key in my hand, lifted toward the lock, that I thought to step back and take a moment. It wasn’t that I had doubts about my plan—I didn’t. Not a one. And I didn’t have doubts about Dylan either. He was everything I wanted in a teacher. He was kind and protective and level-headed. Most importantly, he was out-of-this-world attractive. The apex of my thighs felt slippery just from the thought of being with him.

But there was me to think about. Who I was and what kind of reactions I usually had to men I was into. I fell for them, was what I did. Over and over. I’d only had two serious boyfriends in my life, but the number of guys I’d been smitten with was countless. I easily swooned over kind gestures. Butterflies resided in my stomach at all times. If a man looked too long in my eyes, laughed at my stupid jokes, or listened attentively to my rants about art, he was sure to win my heart.

The only reason I’d survived as long as I had in the world—if twenty-three was considered having survived long at all—was because I also had a level head. Because I knew not to run blindly into the arms of every guy who gave me goosebumps. Because I’d learned to tuck my feelings deep inside. I’d perfected the art of not being vulnerable, partly by making sure I didn’t jump into bed with anyone until I was sure he loved me too.

Everything about this situation with Dylan was against the Audrey Lind Code of Conduct.

So how on earth did I expect to get through this without getting burned?

The same way you always do. That was how.

I’d remind myself of the facts—that Dylan wasn’t emotionally available. That he lived across an ocean. That he wasn’t interested in any relationship with me or anyone, for that matter. I’d repeat those facts over and over until they were seared into my brain, and when I started to feel—which was highly likely considering my past—I’d bury those feelings and never mention them out loud. Then, after a while, a new guy would cross my path, and I’d get all twitterpated again and the cycle would continue until eventually I found the right guy. And finally I wouldn’t have to hide anymore.