Page 109 of Fracture

Dylan smiles and shakes his head, but immediately starts stripping off his clothes. “What the lady wants, the lady gets.”

I know I’m reverting back to old coping mechanisms. I know this probably isn’t healthy. I know I shouldn’t lie to them, and I waver back and forth on whether or not I’m placing us all in more danger than if I just told them what the fuck was going on.

But as Dylan lifts me up against the wall and fucks me hard, as my body reacts to him and he murmurs dirty words in my ear, I can’t even consider what the future looks like for us right now.

“I love you,” I gasp, my arms wrapped around his neck.

“Fuck, I love you.” He hooks one of my legs over his arm, groaning as he sinks deeper inside me.

I press my head back against the tiles, clenching my eyes shut, tensing my body with everything I’ve got and forcing myself to release to him. My orgasm doesn’t bring sweet relief though, it shatters through me as I gasp Dylan’s name and tears bite at my eyes.

Dylan presses his mouth against my throat and moans loudly, shuddering as he comes inside me. I wrap myself around him, biting my lip to stop it trembling, and wonder what the fuck we’ve gotten ourselves into. What ticking time bomb Gloria and Oswald have placed right underneath us.

I can’t think about it. Not again. But as Dylan dries me off and gets me comfortable, wrapping me up in bed and getting me tea and a hot water bottle, I can’t help but feel like my pretty little life I’ve built for myself is all about to come crashing down around me.

CHAPTER 25

DYLAN

The crowdof reporters outside the garage catches me off guard. My head is swimming slightly, a lack of sleep and an unhealthy excess of fucking all night leaving me with the worst sort of hangover. I just want to be back in bed with Stella and Levi, but one of us needed to head in to meet with the accountant, and I volunteered.

Now I wish I’d just rescheduled the meeting and stayed in bed.

The throng rushes at me as I take off my helmet, cameras flashing and phones outstretched.

“Dylan, do you have any comments on Gloria’s statements?” Is one of the questions I hear amongst the hyper chatter they throw my way.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I run a hand over my head and attempt to make my way to the garage, bumping into the bodies blocking my way. “Can you all please move? I don’t have time for this right now.”

“Dylan, how long were you aware of Harold Langford’s abuse?” Another displaced voice, a question thrown over the heads of the reporters around me.

“No comment.” I shove against the crushing bodies. “Now get out of my way.”

“How long had you and Gloria been involved?”

That one has me stopping short. I turn to try and find the voice who just threw the question my way, the question I must have misheard,

“What did you say?” I ask, my eyes trying to find the person. All the reporters follow my gaze, and a man with cropped brown hair in a blue shirt raises his hand.

“Yes, Dylan, here, Larry Jones, Sonoma County Informer. Gloria Langford and you, how long had that relationship been going on?”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Gloria’s interview, last night, she revealed-”

“She didn’t reveal shit,” I interject, and wave a hand. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Dylan, is that why you killed Harold Langford?”

“I-I didn’t…” I shake my head and turn to the garage. “Get the fuck off my property.”

“Dylan! Dylan!” The voices all rise as I start to push my way back to the garage.

“Fuck off or I’ll call the cops!”

I make it to the garage and slam the door behind me. It’s quiet and dark inside, being a Sunday morning. I wish someone else was here, noise and light and the banter of the mechanics to lift my mood, just a little.

What the fuck has Gloria done now?

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