Page 44 of Sunshine
“I like you a little rough,” I murmur, captivated by the image of my hand stroking his face. “Wild. A little out of control.”
His throat works, and I cup his perfect jaw, my fingers skating over his shadowed skin. Without thinking, my thumb moves toward his mouth, sweeping out to trace the shape of his lips. I watch with wonder as in the reflection, Dylan parts his lips and I slip inside, grazing his teeth as the warm wet touch of his tongue hits my finger.
My pussy pulses, and I take a long, shaky breath. “Dylan…”
“Oh, my God! What’s going on here?”
The sound of Daisy’s voice makes me jump, and I leap back from Dylan as shame burns through my veins. Dylan tears at the towel around his neck and gets to his feet, but as he rushes to put a little distance between us, we realize that Daisy isn’t talking to us. She’s in the living room with Izzy and asking about the toys and her hair.
Dylan and I exchange a relieved look. Relieved and underpinned by guilt.
A moment later, Izzy pulls her aunt into the kitchen to show her our DIY salon.
“See? Poppy cut my hair, and then she cut Daddy’s.” Izzy squints up at her father. “She could have cut it more.”
“It was just a trim,” Dylan protests, shoving a hand through his shorter hair.
“It doesn’t catch on his lashes anymore,” I add, weakly. “And it’s a little shorter around the neck.”
“I like it.” Daisy gives me a goofy two thumbs up, which makes me laugh, and then spins to show us her back, where a smear of mud mars her black Silver Leaf Ranch shirt. “I just came home to get changed before the next ride, so I can’t stay.”
As Daisy hurries upstairs and Izzy returns to the living room, I release a tense breath. On the other side of the table, Dylan does the same, mirroring the sag in my shoulders.
“That was…” Close? Hot? Both? I don’t know how to end the sentence, but Dylan seems to understand.
“Yeah.” His eyes move to the clock on the wall, and he stands a little straighter. “I just came by to check on Izzy between shifts, but I’ve got to head back, so…”
This time, Dylan’s the one lost for words, but I don’t need them either.
“Yeah.”
He gives me a tight smile before moving to the living room for a quiet chat with Izzy, and once I’m alone, I brace myself on the back of the nearest dining chair. My knees are weak, my breathing is uneven, and my heart refuses to beat the right way.
I absently note the sounds of Daisy rushing out of the house, followed by the front door opening, then closing again behind Dylan. With the two of them gone, I find the strength to stand on my own, pick up the broom, and sweep up the new hair clippings. I haven’t tidied more than a third of the mess before Iforget what I’m doing and stop to stare at the tip of my thumb. The one I slipped inside Dylan’s warm, willing mouth.
What was that? Will I spend the next week obsessing about this as hard as I did our kiss? And how far would things have gone if Daisy never interrupted?
But the hardest questions of all: How far would we haveletit go? And why did neither of us insist it can never happen again?
thirteen
Dylan
I might be moreanxious than Izzy as we stand near the front door with just minutes to go until we leave for her first day at her new school. She’s positioned in front of the full-length hallway mirror, a dubious frown on her face as she inspects her uniform.
“Come here,” I say, falling to one knee so I can fix her necktie, straighten her woolen sweater, and tighten the laces on her shiny black shoes. Her knee-high socks are still where they need to be—just under her kneecaps—and her dark hair is in a polished high ponytail.
“You’re perfect.” I drop a kiss on her forehead before I return to my feet and pull out my phone.
“Are you okay?” Poppy asks.
I look at her as the words float in one ear and out the other. “Huh?”
She nods at my phone, and I shove it into the back pocket of my jeans. “You’ve checked that thing three times in the last five minutes. Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah.” I lower my voice, so Izzy can’t hear me, then tip my head toward the living room for Poppy to follow me. “I thoughtAnnalise might call to wish Izzy luck before her first day at a new school, but…”
Poppy spares a sad kind of glance toward Izzy, who is twirling to see how much flare her plaid tunic gives. The answer: not much.
