Page 111 of Revolve
“Look around, Sierra. Everything in this room is new. There’s not a single place in here I could take you on that’s been occupied by another person. I even painted the fucking walls. My shower? You’re the first person who has ever been in there with me.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “And today? I know I could have drunk, but I didn’t, because I hoped you’d be here. And I don’t want to miss a thing when it comes to you.”
No one has ever equated my presence with something so vital. He avoids my gaze. It’s as though he’s bracing himself, unsure if he’s said too much.
“Look at me.” I cup his face in my hands, but he still won’t meet my eyes. Instead, he rests his forehead against mine, and I suppress the choked sound rising in my throat. “Please?”
He does. His amber brown eyes lift slowly, long lashes fanning like delicate curtains.
“You are not your past. And even if you were, it’s not something to be ashamed of.”
“It is—”
“It’s not,” I say firmly. “You’re so much more than that. Kind, gentle, and so generous it makes me a little jealous. You’re not just someone to lust after or settle for. You’re a complete person who deserves every ounce of respect.”
His lips quirk into a small smile. “You might be the only one who thinks that.”
“You know what I think?” I say, my voice steady. “I think people think that you only care about yourself and your pleasure, because that’s the version you’ve chosen to show them. But deep down, you are the most selfless person I’ve ever known. And I think the people who truly know and love you know that’s the truth.”
He exhales a soft chuckle. “This is pretty sappy for you, Romanova.”
“You can joke all you want, but I see you, Dylan.” I reach for his hand, intertwining our fingers. “I couldn’t before, or I never allowed myself to. But now that I have, I can’t stand by and let you think of yourself that way.”
His brown eyes shimmer. “I see you too, Sierra.”
My body moves on its own, wrapping my arms around his bare torso and pressing my lips to his warm chest. “I don’t need you to be different for me. I like you as you are. Old you, new you, I just wantyou.”
Three beats of silence stretch between us, thick and heavy.
He cups my face, tender and possessive. “So, if I stripped you naked, licked every inch of your body, and stuffed you full of my cock, you wouldn’t think of me differently?”
Oh. “D-differently, yes. But badly, no.”
He smirks, leaning in, his lips brushing my ear as he asks, “And if I kissed you like this?”
Dylan tilts my head, capturing my lips as his tongue moves hot and slow in my mouth, exploring and in complete control. I rise to my tiptoes, at his mercy, feeling my stomach flutter before he pulls back.
“You wouldn’t see me differently?”
I grip his shoulders, pulling him closer until our noses touch. “Kiss me like that again, and I won’t stop until you seemedifferently.”
“Get on the bed.” I don’t hesitate. Not when he’s looking at me likethat.“This fucking skirt. You thought you could come to my party dressed like this and I would last a second out there?”
“I’ve heard you take costumes seriously. And I wanted to satisfy the birthday boy.”
His chuckle vibrating against my skin. “So, there is a world where Sierra Romanova wants to satisfy me?”
“We must be in an alternate universe,” I say.
“That’s okay, baby,” he whispers against my stomach. “I’ll satisfy you in every universe.” Dylan unzips my skirt and then takes off my boots before I scoot back onto the mattress. He follows, coming on top of me like a magnet. He grips my thighs, slapping them roughly before pressing his hips down.
Dylan kisses me like he’s starved. Each glide of his tongue feels like gasoline poured over a raging fire. I ache to feel more. I’m desperate to have him grind into me, to bruise my thighs with his grip,anything.
When I hook my fingers onto his belt, Dylan pulls a fistful of my hair, yanking me back. His expression is tender as he runs the pad of his thumb under my eyes, so delicately I’m convinced my skin is porcelain. Then he presses a whisper of a kiss onto my eyes.
“This is different, Sierra,” he says, his voice rough, almost pleading.
“I know,” I breathe.
“Do you?” His eyes darken to coal. “I mean it. There is no one else. No one else I want to taste, no one else I want to fuck. No one else I want as my partner. You’re the one I want to get it right with.”
