Page 20 of Rockstar Rescue
His hand traces a path down my arm beneath my long-sleeve shirt, his fingers arousing all kinds of delicious feelings in me.
When his palm slides up to cup my breast, I can't help the small gasp that escapes me.
"Extremely nice," he says, his voice a low rumble against my ear.
He shifts our bodies until I'm on my back, his weight half-covering me as he leans on one arm. His eyes, dark with desire, lock onto mine.
"I want you, Nurse Nancy," he says. "I want you more than I've ever wanted another woman."
I laugh softly, even as my heart races. "Right. I believe that's true for tonight, maybe even this week."
"I'm serious, Ginny.” The way he says my name makes my stomach flutter. "I want to make love to you. Don't tell me you don't feel this too. I can see it in your eyes."
"I'm your nurse," I reply, trying to sound professional despite the heat building between my legs. "You're just delirious from the accident and the snowstorm."
"Perhaps," he whispers, pressing his finger against my lips. "But there's something between us. I know you feel it too."
I fall silent, unable to deny it. The attraction is real. I feel it humming between us like a live wire. Whatever this is, it's not something I experience every day.
"Haven't you heard of sexual healing?" Dylan asks with a playful smile, his fingers already working at the buttons of my robe.
I know he’s talking about himself.
But it’s exactly what I need.
He wraps the strands of my hair around his fingers, using the gentle tension to guide my mouth to his.
When our lips meet, a current runs through me—his taste more intoxicating than the whiskey we shared earlier.
I kiss him back hungrily, my tongue dancing with his as warmth spreads from my core outward.
"That's more like it," he murmurs against my mouth, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through my body. His hands find my breasts, cupping their weight, thumbs circling my nipples until they harden beneath his touch.
I arch into him, craving more pressure, more friction. With surprising strength, he shifts me until I'm straddling him, the thin fabric of my dad's old silk robe and his briefs the only barrier between us.
For a fleeting moment, I think about my father. Imagining how scandalized he'd be seeing his little girl acting like this.
But then I realize, if he's watching from somewhere beyond, he'd probably just want me to be happy.
To stop hiding from life. The kiss Dylan and I share feels like a step toward something real, something healing.
Dylan's hands slide down to grip my hips, fingers digging into flesh that's always felt too ample to me.
"You're perfect," he breathes against my neck, "absolutely perfect."
The heat between us builds until I can barely think. "Do you have protection?" I manage to ask.
"Yes," he says, his voice still husky with desire. "In my jeans pocket."
I give him a look, one eyebrow raised.
"What’s that supposed to mean?!" he teases. "I'm a famous rockstar. Precautions are part of the job."
"So I see," I say, unable to keep the laugh out of my voice.
I pad over to the sofa where I've neatly folded his jeans before his bath. The floor feels cold against my bare feet.
Sure enough, there's a condom in the pocket. I bring it to him, my mind racing.What would I have done if he didn't have it?Would I have had unprotected sex?
