“Hi,” I squeak as a dress shirt-covered muscular arm closes around me, caging me in.

  “Hi,” he whispers back, running a single finger down the side of my face and slowly drifting across my lips. “You good? We good?”

  “Fabulous,” I breathe and relax into him.

  This is good. We’re good. No man has ever made me feel like the floor is about to open below me, ready to swallow me whole.

  Dylan does.

  Never in a million years did I think I’d be on my couch about to have sex with him. I hadn’t thought about him at all, in fact. He was only a passing memory from my childhood and nothing more…until now.

  “Thank you for tonight.” He smiles, his finger still tracing my features.

  I sit perfectly still, propped in his lap, my body humming with excitement. “For what?”

  “For dinner. For your grandparents. For being here and being you. For what we’re about to do.”

  My heart skips. “What are we about to do?” I ask with a coy smile, pretending to be clueless or at least innocent.

  I am neither, but I also have never been a go-getter, chasing after any man or sex.

  His hand stops near my chin, his thumb pulling my bottom lip down and open. “Lots of dirty things.”

  “Lots?”

  His lips turn up at one side, and his gaze goes to my mouth. “So many dirty things, you won’t be able to look your family in the eye tomorrow.”

  The air inside my lungs evaporates, and my pussy pulses in anticipation.

  “I felt that,” he says, and my eyes widen.

  “You felt what?”

  “The twitch.”

  “The twitch?” I whisper, swallowing hard and trying not to be mortified that he felt my pussy’s reply to his statement.

  “Babe, your body couldn’t be any more connected with mine than it is right now unless I was inside you. You do it, I feel it.”

  My entire body flushes with embarrassment, and to cover it, I throw myself forward until my lips crash into his, stopping him from saying anything more before I chicken out.

  I glide my fingers through the thick, coarse hair of his beard as his mouth opens, slipping his tongue between my lips. A faint taste of wine mingles with his purely masculine scent, filling all my senses along with his hands roaming around my body over my clothes.

  A moan slips from my lips when his palms glide across the sides of my breasts. He growls a response before he moves his hands to the hem of my shirt. My arms shoot up into the air as if it’s an automatic response to the promise of what’s to come.

  He pulls away, our eyes locking immediately as the only sound in the air is our heavy breaths and the rapid beating of our hearts.

  My shirt isn’t even out of his hands when I do the same, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and pulling it off. I brush my fingertips over the warm, hard skin of his abdomen, sending all kinds of wonder through me. He doesn’t speak, only watches me, his gaze dipping to the swells of my breasts as I lift his shirt.

  I’ve never felt more beautiful than I do when he looks at me the way he is right now. He wants me, and the hard length of him pressed against my body leaves no doubt. I feel the hunger coming off him in waves.

  I gawk at his chest and tattoos, running my fingers along the ink. He’s hard everywhere I’m soft, and I want to spend hours tracing every dip and ridge of his perfectly formed stomach and pecs.

  “We still good?” he asks.

  I nod and don’t get the words out before his mouth is back on mine, stealing my breath and another moan as he palms my breasts. The thin scraps of lace do nothing to block the heat of his skin against mine. I hum my appreciation, loving the way he touches me, both gentle and rough, a mix of sensations I’ve never felt with another man.

  Dylan moves one hand to my hip, keeping the other on my breast, and pushes my lower half backward. Our lips never separate, but when he slides the hand that was on my hip between my legs and under my skirt, I gasp into his mouth.

  His lips cover mine again as his hand slips into my panties and the skin on skin sends a shiver racing through my entire body. His fingers glide easily across my tender flesh, already wet and needy from the lightest touch and his deep, demanding kisses.

  I spread my legs farther apart, wanting him to touch me deep. The roughness of his fingertips sends a jolt of pleasure from my core to my extremities as they sweep across the very spot where I’ve been dying to be touched.

  A few passes of his fingers and I’m rocking into his palm, wanting more—and needing it too. My wishes are granted as a single digit dips into me, delivering total and utter bliss. He moans against my mouth, sending the vibration down my spine as every nerve ending inside me seems to come alive.

  I slide my hand down his stomach to his crotch, unzipping the zipper on his jeans. Making quick work, I push the denim aside until his cock pops out, brushing against my fingertips as if begging to be touched. I move my hand around the shaft, rubbing the tip with my fingers. My eyes are open, his still closed, and I glance down to see his piercing flicker in the faint glow from the side table lamp.

  Holy moly.

  Piercings aren’t new to me. I work at a tattoo and piercing shop, but never have I been with a man who’s had his cock decorated. I’ve heard it’s a whole new experience, and it looks like tonight I’m about to find out if the gossip is true.

  He groans as I trace the metal before sliding my palm around the head to stroke his shaft.

  “Fuck,” he moans against my lips.

  I smile, pleased with myself at bringing him as much pleasure as he’s giving me. His finger leaves me, and before I have a chance to whine at the emptiness, he adds a second digit, filling me so decadently, I almost cry out his name.

  He thrusts his fingers into me, and I stroke faster, trying to match his pace. I’m so close to orgasm, my toes start to curl, but before the sensation I’m craving fills me, he flips me onto my back and covers me with his body.

  I flatten my hands on his back, my nails digging into his skin as his mouth blazes a path down my jaw to my neck, then lands on my breast. I arch my back, wanting the warmth and wetness against my skin. His teeth find the perfect spot, pulling at my nipple through the lace.

  The delicious bite of the material and the edges of his teeth, along with his fingers thrusting in and out of me, sends me spiraling over the edge. I moan, my body going rigid with pleasure, unable to move or breathe, only feel.

  And I feel it all as he doesn’t let up, but doubles down, causing my body to convulse and for me to completely lose control. Before I have a chance to come back to my senses, Dylan’s mouth is off my breasts, traveling down my midsection. He flips my skirt up, placing his mouth over my clit, and sucks so hard, I instantly spiral into another orgasm, or maybe it’s still part of the first. I’m half unconscious, delirious, and seeing stars when he climbs to his feet and pushes his jeans down his body.

  All I can do is lie there, soaking in the beautiful muscular build of his body, the stiff, long, and more than ample width of his cock, along with the piercing that sparkles as if it’s calling to me like a beacon on a distant shore.

  He bends down, rustling in his pocket and pulling out his wallet, fishing out a condom. I watch in awe as he uses his teeth, the same ones that were on my nipple minutes ago, and tears open the foil packaging.

  “Still good?” he asks, rolling the latex over his cock without having to look.

  He’s had practice, doing this probably hundreds of times with just as many women.

  Don’t think about that. No man is single at his age and has a list shorter than the number of fingers on his hands. It’s ridiculous for me to even think that. Whatever he did before me doesn’t matter. The only thing that’s important is this moment, this feeling.

  “Still good,” I whisper, barely able to speak but somehow forcing the words out between gasping for air.

  My gaze is glued to him, mesmerized by the way his muscles move under his skin. I’ve never seen a man more handsome in my entire life and never one in person, standing totally naked.

  Before he can settle on the couch, I stand and shimmy out of my skirt, remove my undies, and toss my bra to the side. My eyes drift lower, and I lick my lips. “Shame,” I say softly. “I wanted to taste you.”

  “The night is young, wildcat,” he replies with a wink.

  I hurl myself at Dylan, smashing my tits and lips against him, excited about what the rest of the night will bring.

  Dylan cups my ass, lifting me up with little effort and turning just before he hits the wall. The hardness of the unforgiving drywall pinches, but all is forgotten as soon as Dylan pushes his hard length inside me, filling me until I can’t breathe.

  His lips find mine, kissing me hard, taking what he wants from my mouth along with the rest of my body. I tangle my fingers in his hair, holding on as he pounds into me, angling upward and hitting all the right spots.

  He grunts with each thrust, and I moan in response, our breaths becoming one, the sound of our skin slapping against each other. Tomorrow, I’ll have a bruise on my back to match the one healing on my face, but this one will be worth it.

  Dylan pulls away, staring me straight in the eye as he pounds into me. “You like that?”

  “Yes!” I yell out, using his hair as an anchor while my tits bounce wildly.

  I could give a shit what else is jiggling on my body. With Dylan, I don’t care about anything except the way he makes me feel and the pleasure his body can deliver.

  He lifts me higher against the wall, one hand moving from my ass to my throat, pinning my body upright. My eyes widen, and for a minute, I panic before I realize he isn’t squeezing or applying pressure but is instead holding me captive as he pummels into me over and over again. He stares into my eyes with each punch of his cock into my pussy, and I can’t look away.

  I’m transfixed by his gaze, the way he’s holding my neck, and how he spears me with his cock until I’m panting and beside myself in ecstasy.

  My mouth opens and closes, words failing me as a third orgasm builds in my core, splintering throughout my entire body like a jolt of electricity. The world ceases to exist as I feel my eyes roll back, and the air sticks in my lungs.

  He grunts, driving into me faster and harder until he follows me over the cliff of bliss. A few moments later, his hand leaves my neck, and he carries me backward toward the couch before collapsing with me landing on top of him.

  I realize in that moment, I miss the weight of his body pushing mine against the wall. I miss the feel of his fingers wrapped around my neck.

  And in this very second, I know nothing will ever be the same.

  “Jesus,” he mutters, dragging his index finger down my spine. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

  I push back the hair that’s stuck to my face from the multiple orgasms. “You thought I’d kill you? Excuse me. You’re the one who…”

  He smiles up at me, brushing back the hair on the other side of my face. “Wildcat, I haven’t fucked someone like that in forever. I wasn’t sure if my heart or legs would give out before I’d be able to give you another orgasm, but I wasn’t going to stop until it happened or I died.”

  I place my palm on his chest, lifting my head up higher to look at him better. “You didn’t have to give me another orgasm.”

  “I don’t have to do anything, but I wanted to give you another orgasm.”

  “Why?” I ask with a yawn.

  “Because I don’t want you to ever forget I was here.”

  “Why would I forget?”

  His smile softens as he stares at me in the soft light. “Don’t know, babe, but I want to make sure it never happens.”

  Too tired to hold myself up, I place my cheek against his chest and let my body relax on top of him. “I could never forget this.”

  “Me either, wildcat. Me either,” he whispers, running his fingers through my hair.

  “I like you, Dylan,” I say, half asleep.

  “Go to sleep, Rosie,” he replies, and I do…quickly.

  16

  Dylan

  I open my eyes, blinking in confusion at the pink walls and soft blankets draped over my body. Looking to my side, I see Rosie lying next to me with her back to me, covered by only a thin sheet.

  “Damn,” I say under my breath as the memories of last night come rushing back to me.

  The way she smelled. The way she felt. The way she cried my name. Everything about Rosie Gallo is perfection personified.

  A girl like her deserves someone better than an asshole like me. I’m not worthy of a creature so pure and sweet. I’ve lived some bad shit, and no matter how hard I try, it never rubs off, and no number of good deeds will change that fact either.

  She moves and the sheet shifts, exposing her back. I grimace, feeling a fire deep in my belly as I lock my eyes on her back. It’s covered in bruises. Marks I put there from the wall and the way I fucked her without giving two shits if I was hurting her in the process.

  And I did hurt her. Even though there was pleasure, marks like that don’t come without a price. I know bruises. I’ve been hit more times in my life than I care to remember, blocking out every time my father used his fist as punishment unlike other parents.

  A knot forms in my stomach at the very sight of what I’ve done to her. No matter what she says, I know she’ll feel that for days. I can’t be here. I can’t stay. When she wakes up, I should be gone, sparing her the goodbyes and niceties of the morning after.

  She promised me a dinner and a thank-you, and I gave her more than she bargained for. I roll off the bed, grabbing my clothes from the floor, and quickly get dressed. I move quietly, careful not to wake her, and I look back one last time, memorizing the outline of her body and the dip of her hips against the mattress.

  “Perfection,” I whisper to myself before slipping out of her bedroom, suddenly feeling as if I can’t breathe.

  As soon as I’m outside the apartment, I turn my face up into the sunshine and take a deep breath, moving toward my bike at double speed.

  She deserves more. She deserves better.

  I keep repeating those words, forcing myself forward until I’m on my bike and on the road, leaving Rosie Gallo where she belongs…in the past.

  “You’re a dumbass.”

  I glare at Ian over my pint of beer. “No shit, genius. I never should’ve slept with her.”

  He leans over, one elbow on the bar, towel over his shoulder. “That’s not why you’re a dumbass.”

  I drink down half the glass before taking a breath and putting the scowl back on my face. “Care to explain, brother?”

  “You’re a dumbass because you ran away like a giant pansy.”

  I growl as I put my boots on the rungs of the stool, trying not to launch my body over the counter at him. “It wasn’t because I’m a pansy, asshole. She deserves better.”

  “Better than what?”

  “Better than someone as damaged as me—or you, for that matter. We’re all fucked up. Dad did a number on us, and a woman like her doesn’t deserve to have that kind of shit in her life.”

  Ian reaches up, extends his arm, and smacks me in the face, shocking me. “I’m not Dad, and you’re not Dad. After all these years, you’re still going to let him fuck up your life? The man’s buried, and that’s where you should leave the shit he did to us too. Like I said, you’re a dumbass.”

  “Did you fucking hit me?” I ask, my brows furrowed and blinking in confusion.

  “Yeah, man. But did you hear what I said to you?”

  “I can’t believe you fucking hit me.”

  “Keep doing and saying stupid shit, and I’ll do it again, but harder next time.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You want a black eye?”

  “Wouldn’t be my first,” he says with a shrug. “Sure it won’t be my last. And would you really hit a guy with cancer?” He gives me a pouty face and puppy-dog eyes, knowing right where to stick his dagger.

  “Asshole,” I mutter because he knows my answer.

  “See, you’re not the bad guy you make yourself out to be.”

  “Shut up.”

  He gives me a smug grin. “Was the girl mad at you after you fucked her?”

  “No, and her name is Rosie.”

  “Whatever.” He rolls his eyes, pushing back his strawberry-blond hair that had fallen over his forehead. “Did she complain when you were giving her those bruises by fucking her silly?”

  “No,” I growl again.

  “You ever leave marks on any other women?”

  “Of course. Some women like it rougher than others. You know how it goes. Sometimes shit gets out of control.”

  He dips his chin, tilting his head to the side. “Out of control like last night.”

  I don’t respond, but I stew in my own bullshit instead.

  “Shit happens, brother, but you fucked up, running out of there with your dick in your hand and not so much as a goodbye.”

  “Fuck,” I groan, going back to my beer instead of talking to my brother and his cocky, know-it-all attitude.

  “I know Rosie from the bar. She comes in here with her sister and cousins sometimes. I listen to their conversations. She’s a good one. She’s sweet and not as wild as the others. She may be too good for you… I take that back, she is too good for you, but that wasn’t your call to make. It should’ve been hers.”

  A hand clamps down on my shoulder, giving me a squeeze. “Hey,” a mildly familiar voice says as I turn, taking in the man from the auto shop.

  Shit. He’s Rosie’s cousin by marriage, not by blood, but still her cousin.

  “Heyyy,” I say, drawing out the word and ignoring the sinking feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Hey, Ian.” The guy tips his chin toward my brother. “Beer, please.”

  “Mammoth,” Ian greets him before reaching under the bar and retrieving a bottle from the cooler.