Page 71 of Ex in the City
I shake my head.
‘Did you ask him to?’ Dylan replies.
I shake my head again, only this time I reach into my pocket and take out the bottle of nail polish. Then I place it down on the table in front of Dylan, like a chess master making their final move, as if to say: Checkmate.
Dylan picks up the bottle and gets down on the floor in front of me. First he takes off my heels, then he gently takes one of my feet in his hands, lifting it into the air.
I can tell by the way he took off my shoes, and the way he’s touching me now, even though it’s only my foot, where he wants this to go. I show him that I want it too by using my free foot to run up and down his leg as he kneels in front of me.
Dylan’s expression doesn’t change at all. He lifts my foot to his face and begins to kiss my ankle. He slowly works his way up the inside of my leg, each kiss lasting longer, and being more passionate than the previous one. By the time he gets to the top of my thigh, he stops and looks up at me.
God, I want him – I need him, even. I don’t care if he shags me and then never speaks to me again (well, obviously I do, but you know what I mean), I just can’t spend another platonic second with him.
I lean forward and kiss him on the lips, slow and sensual for as long as I can take it, but this feeling inside me is too frantic not to give in to. As we kiss, he stands up, picking me up in hisbig, strong arms before he sits back down on the sofa and sits me down on top of him.
He’s got me now, I’m his, for whatever he wants. As I reach down and whip away his belt, I think about how, since the second he walked back into my life, doing this has been all I could think about – although, if I’m being honest (and I know it sounds bad), I can think of a few times, with Rowan, when I just closed my eyes and let my mind drift right back to LA.
It’s just like I remember it being, only better, that full-body fire from head to toe. Here, now, in the moment it’s hard to care about what this means for tomorrow. Tonight it’s all about the fire – it’s a good job the smoke detector is broken.
32
My eyes begin to open, ever so slowly, and then all at once when I suddenly remember where I am.
I’m in bed – in Dylan’s bed – with my head on his chest, and his big arm wrapped around me, holding me in place, and I’ve been here since we fell asleep (which, admittedly, probably wasn’t that long ago).
I notice his phone is ringing on the bedside table, which must have been what woke me up. A few seconds later it wakes him up and he finally releases me, leaning over to answer it.
‘Hello,’ he says, half asleep. ‘Oh, hi, Mitch… Yeah, I was asleep… Yeah, I know, but I bet they’re all in a worse state than me… What, really?… Okay, yeah, a signing sounds good… I’ll meet you in the breakfast room… Okay, bye.’
I feel like I work out everything I need to know from Dylan’s half of the conversation – well, everything except where I stand with Dylan, after last night. I’m terrified, waiting to find out.
‘Well, time to get up,’ Dylan says, his face serious and his tone abrupt, but his face dissolves into a mischievous smile. ‘But not just yet.’
Dylan springs into action, climbing on top of me, pressing his body down on mine as he gives me a big squeeze.
I let out an excited little squeak, not only because I love to feel his hands on me, or because I’m loving the one-on-one attention he’s showering me with, but because this feels real, he isn’t going anywhere, he’s here, in bed with me, the morning after. That’s got to mean something.
‘I don’t want to get up,’ he says with a pout. ‘I’d rather have breakfast in bed and spend the whole day here, with you, in this bed – although I could be convinced to move to the bathroom for a few rounds.’
I laugh. I can’t deny that I’m tempted to stay in bed with him too, but the reminder that the others are waiting for him – and that he has work to do – nudges me back to reality.
‘As much as I’d love that, it sounds like you’ve got fans to meet,’ I remind him.
Dylan leans in, planting a gentle kiss on my lips.
‘I thought you were my biggest fan,’ he jokes.
‘Well, after last night, you might just convince me,’ I reply.
‘I’ll have to try a bit harder, then,’ he says as he leans in for another one – this time he doesn’t stop.
I could definitely get used to starting my day like this.
33
I stand in the wings, my eyes glued to Dylan onstage. He’s giving it his all, and the crowd is loving it, drinking up every last drop of their encore. Dylan cradles his microphone stand, clutching it like it’s the most precious thing in the world. He leans into the mic, ready to unleash one of their classic hits.
Dylan looks ridiculously sexy under the blazing stage lights. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead and run down his neck, and it reminds me of last night. Our heated moments together still linger in my mind, and – not to sound like a psychopath –I can still remember what his skin smells like, and it gives me the raunchiest flashbacks.
