Page 90 of Sunshine
Dylan’s thrusts turn shallow, and his teeth sink into my shoulder before he sucks on the mark to soothe away the sting. I gasp and moan as I grind back against him, and when the feel of his bite doesn’t disappear like it’s supposed to, I slowly start to understand that I’m not dreaming at all. My eyes flutter open, and I look around the room—Dylan’s room—painted in the golden-orange glow of sunrise.
I close my eyes again and moan. Oh, God. This is real. And now I’m even wetter.
Dylan chokes back a grunt as he unloops his arm from around my waist and glides his palm down my back. He sets it between my shoulder blades, and with the other hand gripping my hip, he hinges me forward, folding me almost in half and shoving himself even deeper into my pussy.
I turn my face into the mattress, wanting to scream with how insane this feels, and again when Dylan opens my knees tospread me wide. He applies the pads of his first two fingers to my clit and rubs it with tight circles that push me closer and closer to the end. Dylan ruts into me with feral grunts and rough thrusts as he loops one arm around my waist again and yanks my ass against him hard enough that I can’t move.
But I can come. And I do. I explode everywhere—with fire and light in every nerve of my body. In wetness and warmth between my legs. With need and adoration in my chest. I come apart as Dylan comes with me, tensing and jerking and unloading while I clench and release around him. We come and then we collapse and try to catch our breath.
Dylan rains kisses over my neck, brushing away the locks of hair sticking to the sweat on my skin. “Damn, Sunshine,” he says. “That’s quite a way to wish me good morning.”
“I thought I was dreaming.”
“Nope,” he says with a smile in his voice. “That was real. Very real.”
“Oh, I know. I’ve never come that hard in my sleep before.”
He chuckles and kisses my shoulder as I carefully pull away.
“I’m just going to clean up,” I say, wrapping myself in a sheet as I push off the mattress. He grunts as he lets me go, and I quickly use the bathroom, rinse my mouth, and run my fingers through my hair before I dash back to his arms.
By the minty freshness of his kiss, Dylan snuck away too, and I snuggle up against him as he sweeps the hair from my forehead and pulls me into his arms.
We recline on the pillows and Dylan skates the featherlight touch of his fingertips up and down the dip of my spine. He regards me with an expression serious enough to make my pulse quicken, and it reminds me that the smart thing to do when I’m feeling safe is leave before anyone asks me to go. And that’s exactly what Dylan is about to do.
I shift under the sheets and pull back as much as his arms will allow. “Dylan—”
“I want to tell Daisy about us.”
His words kind of float around me before they settle enough to make sense. I drop back onto my pillow a second before the panic sets in.
“What? Why?”
His fingers still on my back, hurt swims in his beautiful blue eyes, and his throat bobs in a nervous swallow.
I set a palm to his cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meanno. But I don’t get it. Why do you want to tell Daisy now after we’ve spent months keeping this quiet? To protect her. And to protect Izzy.”
And me.
“Why?” Dylan’s smile is as much amused as it is hesitant. “Because I want to be with you.”
Hope—stupid, dangerous, blind hope—buzzes like dragonflies low in my stomach. Behind my ribs. In the tips of my toes.
“Izzy fell asleep without me last night,” Dylan adds, and at my puzzled frown he says, “When you took her to bed after pancakes. She fell asleep with you instead of me, and she hasn’t fallen asleep without me in months.”
“She did,” I say as the significance of an otherwise insignificant moment lands. “Is that okay?”
“It’s more than okay. It’s the moment that made me realize how much Izzy and I will lose if I stay stupid and let you go.”
“Oh, Dylan.” I nestle deeper in his arms and close my eyes so the only thing I have to focus on is the meaning of his words and the warmth of his arms and the steady thud of his heart against my cheek.
“I’m so grateful that you want to protect Izzy as fiercely as you do,” he murmurs, “but keeping her safe is still my biggest fear, you know? Probably always will be. And at first, I was terrified ofIzzy growing attached to you, knowing you were going to leave. And then…”
“Then what?”
“Then it was too late. Izzy fell for you. And I was suddenly terrified that if you left her—us—it would be my fault. I’d be the reason for her broken heart.”
Something in his honesty makes me twitch, and I fight a battle with my heart about giving it a voice. But in the end, my insecurities win out, like they’re looking for a reason to prove this really is too good to be true.
