Page 21 of Once Yours (Love & Wine)

Chapter Eight

Tessa

You can probably mark that down on the list of rudest questions. I shouldn’t keep asking him about how he made his money because it makes it seem like I’m only after him for that reason, but I just really hate secrets. But I feel like I hate them even more with Dylan.

We built whatever it was that we had prior to this almost totally on not sharing anything with each other and I’m afraid to fall back into that. But I also really need to learn to not be so damn nosy.I’m sure he’ll eventually tell me and if he doesn’t, I can always prod around in our interconnected social circle. I’m certain someone I went to high school with will have the gossip on Hannah’s brother.

The good news is the money talk has long since left my mind and I’m now wondering how long we’re going to play this game of cat and mouse. I seriously thought he was going to kiss me, and I was willingly going to welcome it. I might be trying to protect my heart, but my body is all like, what the fuck is wrong with you.

He’s so close to me right now and he smells like the apple orchard he works in, sweet and tempting, a goddamn forbidden fruit. I listen to his words; I see his actions and they’re starting to line up and there’s something about it that scares me. This is not the guy I met all those months ago. He’s someone entirely different and I do have this nagging question in the back of my mind asking me if people can really change the way he has.

“Still thinking about kissing me?” I ask as the music starts to play, distracted by the closeness of his body. I shift onto my side so I’m now even closer to him as I wet my lips, my tongue poking out just slightly in a way that I can only hope draws him in. It’s not that I’m teasing him or maybe I am since he just did the same thing to me.

“I’m thinking about doing a lot more than just kissing you, Tessa,” he whispers back, a slight growl to his words and I swallow hard. “But tonight, we’re here to listen to music and enjoy the night together.”

“Are you trying really hard right now to make me think you’re into me but all you really want to do is get me in the sack?”

Dylan falls back laughing, a hearty chuckle that makes me smile. At least he’s still laughing at me rather than kicking my needy ass to the curb, because I’d have zero patience for me.

“What I’m trying to do is show you that I am into you and that I’m not in this for the sex. But don’t get me wrong, Tess, you’re fucking amazing in bed.”

“I won’t chase you,” I say, and I seriously need to shut up. I’m making myself look like a complete fool. I don’t want to play games with him, but it feels like I am. If we’re really doing this whole relationship thing, I need to be honest with him from the start instead of beating around the bush with my desperately lame lines and questions.

“Oh, trust me, I know you won’t. You could be crowned the queen of ghosting someone. And to think, if you hadn’t shown up at Somerville’s, I probably would’ve gone on wondering if you were the one who got away,” Dylan teases, his hand sliding over my hip, making my heart flutter. “Or better yet, you would’ve left me wondering if you were the girl I’m supposed to be with for the rest of my life.”

He is good, damn good.

He nuzzles his nose against my neck and if we weren’t out in public right now, I’d be saying fuck it to this whole not sleeping together thing. I feel his lips connect with my skin, warm and inviting, and I can’t help but turn into him, our lips finally connecting.

I didn’t intend to kiss him, but holy shit, it’s like someone lit off a firework inside me. He cups the back of my neck, pulling me closer until I’m nearly on top of him, my hands sliding under his shirt. He tangles his hands in my hair, a sudden feeling of desperation taking over both of us. Maybe holding out wasn’t the best idea because now I’m about to shove my hand down his pants at an outdoor concert.

I have no idea how long we make out for, but it is obviously long enough for it to draw far too much attention to us. We hear someone clear their throat and when we come up for air, there’s a security guard standing over us.

“This is a family friendly event and if you’re going to choose to…” he pauses, allowing our heads to fill in the missing words as he motions a hand toward us, “then I’m going to have to escort you out.”

I bite down hard on my lip, trying to stifle the laugh I feel coming on as this guy looms over us. I feel my cheeks flush red as Dylan attempts to apologize, stumbling over his words as a lady next to us hits us with an insulted glare.

“I’m sorry,” I finally manage to get out. “Won’t happen again.” Try as I might, the laugh still escapes me, and Dylan does the same, as I bury my face in his chest, tears streaming down my cheeks.

“He’s still watching us,” Dylan whispers into my hair, his mouth brushing against the top of my head.

“It’s your fault,” I spit out, trying to hold back the laughter so the security guard doesn’t come back and tell us to leave.

We’re two grown ass adults making out at a concert like teenagers. It’s no wonder we got busted, and I have to admit, I am embarrassed. I don’t do things like this. I’m usually far more composed than this, but there’s something about Dylan that makes me feel a little bit reckless, a little bit free.

“My fault?” he asks on a mock offended sigh. “I don’t know about that. You’re the one who kissed me.” His arms are wrapped around me as I lean against him. The weight of my body against his feels far more comforting than I expect, and strangely, I like it.

“Whoa there, I’m pretty sure you started it. You were the one kissing my neck. Was I just supposed to ignore that?” I ask, my lips pursed, waiting for a response.

“Was I just supposed to ignore the fact that you smell amazing and maybe I wanted a taste to remind me of what I once had?”

He has me smiling so wide my cheeks hurt as he waits for an answer. I want to tell him that he still has me, and this holding out thing is stupid, but there it is in the back of my mind, reminding me that he didn’t want this before. He wanted no strings attached and most guys don’t suddenly change their mind. But maybe he’s different.

“Are you having fun?” I now ask, changing the subject, getting away from what scares me and me finally admitting I still don’t fully trust him. I feel like saying that out loud will only make things worse. The last thing I want is to push him away when it is going so well.

“I am. Are you?” He smiles at me, sweet and perfect and I start to remember that I was once drawn to his charm. I still am.

“I am, thanks to you,” I reply. “I’d love to do this again.”

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