Chapter Three
Chantel
Dylan.
Of course the most attractive man I’d ever met would turn out to be the one and only Dylan McCoy.I’d heard enough about him to write an unflattering biography.
Eric had warned me, repeatedly.Dylan was low on morals, high on himself.A guy who didn’t take anything seriously and needed reminding he had a child to take care of.I should steer clear of him.
I loved my cousin, but none of his warnings seemed to fit the man standing in front of me.This man was staring down at me like I was something precious.Like he couldn’t believe his luck in finding me here.
A man without morals wouldn’t have shut down Celeste or sent her back to her husband.
And sure, he was flirting with zero shame right now, but I was the one who’d started it.
My pulse skyrocketed as the bathroom door clicked shut, sealing us in together.“We shouldn’t be doing this, you know.”
The caution wasn’t for him.It was for me.Because despite my better judgment, despite being at a child’s birthday party in my aunt and uncle’s home, I was willing to go all in.
I had been from the moment I spotted him in the hallway—tall, broad, and wearing an expression that didn’t leave room for argument.His jaw had been tight, his arms crossed, and there was something about the way he held himself that made it impossible to look away.
He was the kind of man who couldn’t switch off being in charge.Even the messy blond curls that belonged on a California coastline couldn’t soften his air of authority.
“Isn’t that why you’re doing it?”he challenged.“Isn’t that what makes it fun?”
He had a point.A very good one.
I opened my mouth to answer, but he didn’t give me the chance.He grabbed the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair, and then his mouth was on mine and every coherent thought I had scattered.
Crisse d’ostie, this kiss.
I’d expected urgent.Maybe a little rough.Instead, he was intentional and fucking thorough.Like I was something worth savoring.
His mouth moved over mine with a focused patience that made my knees unreliable, and when his tongue swept against my lips, I opened for him without a second’s hesitation.
He tasted like lemonade and very bad decisions, drowning out every good reason to stop.My hands found his chest, his shoulders, the back of his neck, pulling him closer, greedy for more of the restrained dominance rolling off him in waves.
My back hit the door, his body crowding mine, solid and sure.I hooked my leg around his hip, and he answered with a low growl that vibrated through me, his cock hardening against me right where I wanted it most.
No.Not wanted.
I needed every inch of him.
His hands were everywhere—my hair, my waist, sliding down over my hips with a possessiveness I had no interest in fighting.When his fingers found the hem of my dress a moan slipped out of me.It was wild, almost desperate.And it gave away far too much to a man I’d just met.
But God, I couldn’t find it in me to care.
His grip tightened, and I could feel his control pulled taut like a thread about to snap.
I was not a passive woman.I had a spine, opinions, and a very clear sense of boundaries.But right now, I was willing to throw them all away.Whatever order he gave, I’d do it.He wouldn’t even need to ask nicely.
His mouth dragged from mine along my jaw, down my neck, and I tipped my head back against the door, eyes closed, gone to sensation.
I was in so much trouble.
His fingers dragged up my bare leg, tracing a heated path that made me quiver.My hips tilted toward him, asking for more.
He made a low sound of approval against my neck as his fingers kept climbing to my inner thigh, close enough to make me ache.But when his fingertips finally hit the fabric of my panties, already damp, already giving me away, he just…stopped.