Page 45 of Revolve
The thoughts of Dylan Donovan heated my skin so rapidly that I threw the covers off my body. Even as Scarlett asked me about my first day back with Lidia, I couldn’t admit I’d been stupid enough to pounce on him.
Dylan handled my body like he’d know exactly what to do with it, where he’d want it,howhe’d want it. Each touch was certain, and ready, boiling over with a neediness that can only be created by constant daydreams. Like he’s thought about me.
I can still feel the phantom movements of his tongue against mine. Hear the gasp that left me when he pulled away. Then the rejection.
But regardless of the dumb decisions I make, skating always comes first. So, for today’s practice, I’ve got my bag packed as I slip on leggings and a zip-up before I head downstairs. The smell of something sweet wafts in the air, but it sours the moment I hear a familiar voice.
“Mrs. Romanova, I think I’m in love—with yourbliny,” Dylan says, shoving another forkful into his mouth. The low rumble of his voice makes my body feel like it’s getting a reward.
My momgiggles. “Oh, you are too sweet! And I’ve told you to call me Mila.” I stare in disbelief.
“Mom?”
Their heads turn to find me at the threshold of the kitchen, and I ignore the gaze that feels like a laser, coming from the guy sitting at my spot in the breakfast nook.
“Ah, there she is. Sierra, you never told me Dylan here has been such a good friend of yours at Dalton. He even brought over your assignment.”
The paper she’s pointing to on the island is not my assignment. I’m pretty certain he just pulled a random sheet from his pile of classwork. “Yeah.” I force a smile. “He’s great.”
“And he told me he’s a figure skater too.”
“Did he now?” I grit through my teeth. “That’s lovely.”
I haven’t told my parents Dylan’s my partner and that we’re skating again. Not because I’m dreading the inevitable check-in calls after practice, but because they’ll know no one wants to be my partner and the only reason I have Dylan is that he had no choice. I’m no one’s first choice; I’m not even anyone’s last choice.
“Dylan, can I talk to you?Alone.”
His gaze flickers to me as always, mischievous and light. For a split second, I wonder if yesterday was all a dream. But the delusion doesn’t last, because I can still feel the light sting of his teeth on my lips.
“I think I’m in trouble, Mila,” he says, finishing off his plate as he takes it to the sink. “But your food might be worth facing your daughter’s wrath.”
“You’ll be fine. Sierra doesn’t have an angry bone in her body.”
Dylan barks out a laugh, but when he sees my mom’s confused expression, he hides it in a cough. He glances at me, but I look away and turn to head up my room. Then Scarlett texts me.
Scarlett:Did you get my surprise?
Sierra:What surprise?
Scarlett:6’4”, brown hair, cocky as hell and way too persuasive for his own good.
Sierra:You gave him my address? What the hell, Scar?
Scarlett:He’s your partner now! And he said my hair is pretty before he offered to talk to someone at the DU hospital to get me more hours. It was only right I gave him what he needed.
Sierra:You are a weak, weak woman.
Scarlett:Or I’m a perfectly sane woman, and you’re just in denial.
I drop my phone on the bed and turn at the squeak of my desk chair. Dylan’s sitting in it, holding the strip of photo booth pictures of Justin and me from our last Grand Prix.
“Cute,” he says bitterly.
I lunge for the strip, but he’s quicker, standing up so fast the chair scratches against the floor. I go for it again only for him to step back, which causes me to fall into his chest. A smug grin teases the corner of his mouth.
“It’s only up because I look good in it.”
“Can’t argue with that,” he says.
