Page 37 of Yuletide Acres

“No. It wasn’t real. We were good friends who fooled around once.”

“She got pregnant the first time?”

“Yep. Apparently I have super sperm.”

My eyes widen at his statement. “Guess so. Better be careful with your ladies. Per Jill, there’s a slew of them and you don’t want ten more kids running around.”

I want him to negate my statement. Deny that he’s a man whore.

No such luck.

He releases a frustrated huff, glaring in my direction. “Right. Well, I always am. There’s only ever been one woman I haven’t used protection with.”

“Right,” I mumble. “Merry.”

Dylan tips up my chin, tapping the end of my nose. “No. You. Don’t you remember?”

How can I forget? He’s the only man I ever let fully into my body. My soul. “I do. Condoms were in short supply in that town, but our hormones didn’t care.”

“And once I took you raw, there was no going back. It felt too good. You always felt so damn good. Better each time.”

My body clenches at the trail we are treading. He’s right, though. It felt too good. Every damn time. “We were young and stupid.”

“No. We were young and in love.”

Tears prick my lids at his words, but I blink them back. “We were, weren’t we?” I need to change the subject. This trip down memory lane is tugging at every heart string, and I can’t fall head over heels for Dylan again.

We don’t want the same things. We didn’t want the same things a decade earlier, and it tore us apart. Why would it be any different now?

“I’m glad you’re safe with your lady friends.” Ugh, that comment tastes like acid on my tongue.

Dylan runs a hand over his crewcut, releasing an awkward chuckle. “Can we not talk about the other women I’ve slept with? I do not want to discuss this topic with you.”

I have to admit that although I hate discussing his intimate relations; it is refreshing to see him stew on the hot seat for a change. With a smirk, I finish my drink. “Why? You apparently have a far more vivid sex life than me, although I recall someone implying—”

Dylan’s arms wrap around my waist, his fingers digging into my ribs. Damn him for remembering how ticklish I am. “Am I going to have to make you stop?”

I giggle, trying in vain to push his hands off me. “No, I’ll never concede. It’s your turn to be the bad guy. Getting all mad at me for having dance photos made.” I squeeze myself as far as I can against the back of the booth, but Dylan isn’t giving me any space.

His expression changes, his gaze drifting down to my mouth. Uh-oh. I know that look and all the amazingly sexy things that follow it. Dylan slides his fingers along my jaw, tickling my lower lip with his thumb. “I think I owe you about a million apologies.”

“One is fine.”

His nose nuzzles along my jaw, his breath hot against my skin. “I’m sorry. I was...a total jerk to you. A total jealous jerk.”

“I know. I’m glad you’re softening a bit.”

“On the contrary.” Dylan’s lips brush against mine, as his hands wrap around my back, pulling me against him.

It would be so easy to fall into him, but Jill’s words ring in my brain, cutting into the moment like nails on a chalkboard. I push back, licking my lips as I meet his gaze. “So, you and Merry. Tell me.”

I half expect Dylan to react with anger or frustration. Instead, he pulls my legs over his lap, grabbing me against him. “You are not going to let that go, are you?”

I rake my fingers through his beard, smiling when he delivers a gentle nip to my fingertips. “Tell me, Dylan.”

“We were drunk. I was depressed.”

“About?”

---