Page 32 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

“You been working on that eight-pack of yours?” I grin as I raise one eyebrow, rejoicing inwardly as his cheeks redden. It happens so rarely these days, as we’re so familiar with each other. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of finding ways to make this Duster blush.

It’s way too cute.

My eyes graze over him as he stands there in navy jogging pants that are hanging low on his slim hips and a white tee that clings to his toned upper body.

Did I just use the word cute? Scratch that. The word I’m looking for is hot. He’s so fucking hot he’s smoking. His black hair is still wet and messy from the shower. I desperately want to run my fingers through it and yank hard on the inky strands. I want to hear him growl.

Again. And again. And again.

I realize I’m staring. “Where the hell are my manners? Come on in.”

I step aside and let him enter, my eyes immediately dropping to feast on the most perfect of visuals while his back’s to me. His ass. I raise my gaze just as he turns. Given the small smile tugging on his lips I figure he knows exactly where I was looking.

“I brought these.” He passes me the bag of potato chips he’s holding, and I watch as his gaze drops to my tits. I know why. I’m braless and wearing a tight white tank top. My nipples feel painful, so they’re probably making their presence well and truly known. Shouting silently for his undivided attention.

Lick me. Bite me. Suck me. Fuck me. In any order. Please. And thank you.

“Popcorn’s ready. I’ll bowl both up and be right with you. Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable.” I smile sweetly then walk towards the kitchen. I’m fully aware his eyes are trained on my ass, which is barely covered in a pair of tiny cotton shorts.

* * *

“It turnsme into an emotional wreck every time I watch it. I don’t know why I do it to myself. I’m such an idiot.” I sniff loudly before blowing my nose.

As usual, my feet are resting on Dylan’s lap. I watch as he traces small circles on the inside of my ankle with his finger. He’s being tactile. He’s trying to comfort me.

“Why does the movie make you cry, Jessie?”

He looks at me and I suddenly feel self-conscious as he takes in my no doubt red-rimmed eyes and color-matching nose. I lean my head back on the arm of the sofa, sighing loudly before replying.

“Noah and Allie’s perfect, imperfect relationship, you know? The meaning behind it. That we shouldn’t settle and that we should all try to find that unconditional kind of love. That once-in-a-lifetime love. A love that’s just yours.”

He turns away and frowns slightly before looking at me again. “And do you think there’s someone like that for all of us?”

I nod. “I’m sure of it. But whether we’re fortunate enough to ever meet that person in our lifetime.” I shrug. “Well, that’s a different story.”

I sigh loudly once more, then reluctantly remove my feet from his lap and stand. I feel emotionally drained.

Damn movie.

Closing my eyes, I stretch upwards, my hands grabbing at the air.

My body immediately starts to tingle. I know it’s because his eyes are drinking me in. Feasting on me because they can, and because I’m not witnessing them doing so. My nipples react, which I’m sure won’t go unnoticed.

I know. He knows. My body knows. It has his full, undivided attention.

Opening my eyes, I look down, and our gazes connect. Eye contact no longer makes him uncomfortable. Having me as his captive audience doesn’t either. He no longer looks away. He holds his own. And he’s gotten even more confident since I called him delectable to his face.

Unbelievably so.

It also hasn’t gone unnoticed that he’s making more of an effort with his appearance these days. I realize it’s because he wants my eyes on him. And truthfully, there’s nowhere else they’d rather be.

Dylan O’Connell is beautiful. Both inside and out.

“Well, I should get going.” He stands, breaking our brief moment of silent mutual appreciation, and in doing so, we end up mere inches apart. I can feel the heat from his body. Smell the citrus notes from his skin. I lift my face to look at him. His pale, chiseled features, his full mouth, his eyes of sapphire blue. I part my lips in silent invitation, and his gaze drops to them.

Will he? Won’t he?

Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me. Do it.

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