Page 81 of The Assist
And just like that, the air between us shifts. Lighter. But charged.
His eyes flick over me, and his gaze is slow, heated. “You staying?”
I raise a brow. “Is that a question?”
He steps closer. “Could be a request.”
My breath catches. The world drops away, and everything narrows to the space between our mouths.
“Request granted,” I whisper.
We don’t make it to the bedroom. Clothes peel away in the kitchen. Our fingers tangle in the fabric in the rush to feel skin on skin. The kind of urgency that comes from being too full of all the feelings and not knowing how to convey any of it with words.
He lifts me against the kitchen wall, his mouth hot against mine, and I wrap around him like I’ve been waiting for this since the second we walked through the door. Maybe I have.
The room lighting is dim. Shadows flicker across his face, turning his sharp edges soft. He kisses me like he’s starving, like he’s trying to pour everything he doesn’t know how to say into my mouth.
I cling to him, my nails raking down his back, as he groans into my neck. My skin tingles and a shudder wreaks havoc on my senses. Dylan adjusts our angle and his cock teases at my entrance. My fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck as he continues his assault on my senses. “Dylan… please. I need you now.” I’m not one to wait for what I want. And I want him inside me now; I want to feel him fill me. My pussy clenches, desire pooling, it’s almost embarrassing how much I want him.
When he finally pushes inside me, it’s not rushed; it’sdevastating. Slow and deep anddeliberate. Like he’s trying to make me remember him with every stroke.
And I do.
I remembereverything.
The way he murmurs my name. The way his hand cups my cheek like I’m fragile even as he drives into me, hard and wild. The way he slows down at the exact moment I think I’ll fall apart, just to draw it out a little longer. Like he wants me to come undone, but not untilhe’sready.
By the time I come, I’m clinging to him like gravity’sgiven up. I’m shaking and wrecked.
He doesn’t let me go. Not when he finishes. Not when we sink to the floor. Not when he catches his breath and presses his forehead to mine.
We sit there, both breathless and quiet, our hearts still pounding in sync.
And it’s in that stillness, with our sweat-slicked skin pressed together, my fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest, that I realise something I’ve been too scared to admit.
Itrusthim.
Even with the heat, even with the madness of this thing between us, I feelsafehere. Like whatever we’re building might be a little messy, but it’s real.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and kisses my temple.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
“I am now,” I whisper back.
Once we’re both recovered and our breathing is back to normal, a shiver runs through me as the coldness of the tiled floor registers in my brain. My body curls a little tighter around his as I try to steal his warmth.
“You’re cold.” Dylan moves to stand up, pulling me up with him. He grabs his hoodie from the floor and indicates for me to raise my arms. Once he’s sure I’m suitably covered, he pulls on his joggers. “The bedroom is down the hall on the left, go make yourself comfy. I’ll bring us a drink.” He leans in and kisses the tip of my nose before opening a cupboard and taking out two glasses.
When we’re curled up in his bed, half-dressed under the duvet and surrounded by the warm scent of his laundry detergent and shower gel, my phone buzzes.
It’s my mum.
“He’s sleeping now. Rough morning. But he asked about you. Said he’s proud.”
Tears prick the back of my eyes. I don’t move. Don’t answer. I just press the phone to my chest and close my eyes.
Dylan glances over, concern flickering. “Everything alright?”
