Page 17 of Wildest Dreams

Ropes of exhilaration twisted around every nerve ending in my body like ivy while my mind ran in a hundred different directions. This was shocking. Rhyland had never touched me before. Never indicated he liked me this way. Other than the lingering looks between us. The steadfast, agonizing tension that clawed my neck every time I caught him glaring at me silently, squeezing hard until I was out of breath.

We’d have entire conversations with our gazes alone, and still we’d barely talk. We scarcely acknowledged each other’s existence. All I had to go by was his gawking and that look on his face like he wanted to tell me something. But he never did.

I needed to stop this. Now. Row wouldn’t approve. And I never did things he didn’t approve of.

My mouth dropped, and I tried to push a rejection out, but then he snaked a hand up my waist, cupping the underside of my breast, brushing my puckered nipple through my flimsy white shirt with possessiveness, and I leaned into him, pathetic little sobs of passion ripping from my mouth. His thumb drew circles around my nipple, making my breast feel heavy and full in his palm.

“Finally,” he groaned into my neck, grinding his cock up and down the slit of my ass, the girth pushing between my cheeks. “I thought I’d never get you alone.”

He doesn’t know it’s you. He thinks you’re someone else.

Piper, most likely. We both had long black hair, olive skin, and long legs.

I grunted a refusal, but it came out as a desperate whimper. Of its own accord, my back arched, and my ass searched for more of his length. Honeyed warmth gathered under my navel. I was still a virgin and hadn’t even seen a penis up close. The furthest I’d gone was heavy petting. But now I wanted more. I wanted everything.

“How about we reenact all the dirty texts you’ve been sending me?” Rhyland growled into my skin, straight teeth sinking to the delicate flesh of my collarbone.

Before I could protest, he kicked my legs apart and sank his knee between my thighs, his muscular thigh pressuring my empty center, making it throb deliciously as it begged for more.

“Now what should I do to yo—”

Before he finished his sentence, his palm halted on the golden necklace. A gift from my mother. It had a distinct thin cross. I’d worn it since I was fourteen. Rhyland grunted, grabbing my shoulder and spinning me around at the speed of light. His jaw went slack, his gold-speckled eyes igniting into flames.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Dylan, what the hell are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” My gaze snapped up to his, confused and defenseless and emotional, and fuck, Rhyland was hooking up with Piper. It shouldn’t have hurt like this. It shouldn’t have hurt at all. Why him? I could’ve liked anyone else and easily dated them. “Not assaulting my best friend’s sister, that’s w-what.” I snatched my pretzel bowl with a haughty huff to prove I was down here for food, not to get molested by a rando.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” he spluttered, blocking my way to the stairs.

“I froze. I had no idea what was happening,” I lied. The truth was too humiliating to contemplate.

“Don’t bullshit me, Dylan. You’re not the kind of girl who freezes.”

“Yeah? What kind of girl am I, then?”

“The type to wedgie the devil to start a fight.” He crowded me back against the kitchen counter.

This was more than we’d spoken the entire year. The entire decade, to be honest.

“Are you victim-blaming right now?” My brows pinched into a V. “This gives strong ‘but she was wearing revealing clothes’ vibes.”

His eyes flared in horror. I had him there.

I didn’t feel even a little guilty for lying. My lust-filled gut swam with warm liquid, and I felt empty, my skin tingly, begging to be touched. My chest rose and fell with my erratic breaths. I wasn’t wearing a bra. He glanced down at my tits, then back up at me.

“This was a mistake,” he conceded, sounding serious and regretful for the first time in, well, ever. “I’d never—”

“Yeah. Me either. Gross.”

His throat worked as he swallowed. He didn’t make a move. Neither did I. There it was again—that look. Like he was holding back from saying something.

“What?” I rolled my eyes to stop them from watering.

“Nothing.” His voice was strained. “I’m sorry.”

“That you were born? Yeah, so am I.” I plastered the bowl to my chest, sidestepping him to go upstairs.

He moved in the same direction, trying to give me space. I stepped to the other side. He did the same. I growled in frustration.

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