Revenge 2 Page 2

  “Probably.”

  I walk over to the sitting area. The couches and chairs are all brown leather. This place must cost a fortune to rent for a week.

  Dylan walks up behind me and stops, inches away. The heat from his body makes my nerves scream. OMG. We’re alone, in private, for the first time.

  “This place is real,” he says. His voice has that grit that makes my toes curl inside my shoes. “And I’m real. Are you real?”

  I giggle nervously.

  He’s still behind me. I can’t turn around, or he’ll kiss me. I can feel his breath on the crown of my head.

  “Cool pad,” I say. “Very swish. That’s what my girlfriends back home would say. Swish. Sounds silly now that I’m saying out loud. This place is totally swish.”

  He growls, “Jess, you’re totally swish.”

  My breath catches in my throat. I still can’t turn around.

  “And you’re beautiful,” he says.

  Beautiful? I could melt. I could just melt, right now. Right here in the middle of this fancy living room.

  His fingers touch my elbows. I freeze, except for my heart. My heart races.

  He gently lifts my arms and puts my hands on top of my head.

  “I almost forgot,” I say.

  “You almost forgot how you promised me three minutes of heaven?”

  “Do I have to close my eyes?”

  He whispers in my ear, “Close your eyes. Everything’s better that way.”

  I close my eyes.

  “I’m setting the timer on my phone. That’s three minutes… and then the alarm will go off.”

  “Okay.”

  He chuckles. “The three minutes begin now.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  I squeeze my eyes tightly. I want to peek, but I don’t want to get in trouble.

  His body heat is still behind me, and I can feel his presence. Why isn’t he doing anything?

  I start counting in my head.

  Twenty seconds go by.

  “Dylan?”

  “Yes?” His voice comes from far away. He must be over by the kitchen.

  My mouth turns into a pout. He went through all that trouble, and now he’s not even going to kiss me? I’m so disappointed, I could cry.

  “Thirsty?” he asks.

  My mouth is dry from being nervous. “I guess so.”

  He opens and closes some doors. Probably cupboard doors.

  I shift nervously from one foot to the other. I’m still wearing the bright pink high heels. They’re not the most comfortable shoes, but at least my legs look great.

  What did I do wrong? Why isn’t he over here kissing me?

  With each passing second, I feel more and more silly. First he drove like a maniac, and now this. He’s playing games with me.

  “You’re quiet over there,” he says.

  I tap my fingers on top of my head. My eyes are still shut, but I don’t know why.

  “How much longer?” I ask, trying to sound bored.

  “Two minutes.”

  “This isn’t what I expected.”

  He chuckles, the sound getting louder as he gets closer. Something makes a sound directly behind me, like a person sitting down in a leather chair.

  “The best thing about this place is the view,” he says. “Want me to describe it for you?”

  What view? Back when I walked into the place, I barely glanced up at the windows. They were up high on the wall for privacy from the street.

  “Sure,” I say. “Tell me about the view, since my eyes are still closed.”

  “I’m looking at the horizon. It’s straight and gold. Above the gold is pink, like a sunset.”

  I listen carefully. I’m wearing a gold belt. It’s still morning, so the pink has to be my shirt.

  “Gorgeous view,” he says, making me smile.

  From the sound of his voice, he’s still behind me.

  He continues, “I like the rolling hills and valleys. There are two hills I really like. They’re both black. I’ve never seen a view like this, with black hills.”

  I smile wider. He’s talking about my butt and hips.

  “Yes, the view is very nice.” There’s a sound like ice cubes swirling in a glass and clinking. “Turn around. Slowly.”

  I take a breath, forcing myself to keep calm and not trip in these shoes. Slowly, I move my feet and rotate so I’m facing him. My eyes are still closed. I’m dying to peek, but I can’t.

  “Stop right there,” he says. The ice cubes clink again. “Now I see pink hills and a deep valley. You know what I’d like to do with that valley?”

  “What?” My voice barely comes out as a whisper.

  “I’d love to squeeze those pink hills together and ram something in that sweet valley.”

  My eyes fly open with shock. Ram something in the sweet valley between my breasts?

  He laughs. He is sitting on the middle of a leather couch, and he’s taken his shirt off. There he is right in front of me, with no shirt.

  My mouth starts to water at the sight of him. Even though he’s sitting, the sight is impressive. He’s got the body of an Olympic athlete, with incredible muscles. His skin is tanned, and there’s no hair on his chest or stomach. Just hard, firm, delicious muscles.

  “Are you hot?” he asks. “I got overheated on the drive over, so I took off my shirt. You don’t mind, do you?”

  I glance over at the door. My heart is still hammering away. What am I doing here? I don’t have a clue, and I’m in way over my head. Before we came inside, he was flirting and being cute. I thought we might kiss. Make out. Flirt some more.

  But now he’s got his shirt off. And he just said the most shocking thing about ramming something in my valley.

  I’d run straight out of this building and all the way to the bus stop… if I wasn’t so turned on right now.

  “What do you want from me?” I ask.

  His dark eyes take on a menacing hunger. “I want what I can’t have. Tell me I can’t have you, and you’ll drive me crazy.”

  Shaking my head, I say, “Well, too bad. Because you can’t. I’m not one of those girls who jumps into bed with some guy she doesn’t know. In fact, I wouldn’t have come here with you if I’d known you were going to be like this.”

  He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I love how disgusted you are. Say it again. Call me a manwhore.”

  I spit out the words, “You are a manwhore. And you used me for your dumb viral video. I don’t know why I even like you.”

  “You like me?” His eyebrows shoot up.

  I chew my lip for a moment. “For about a minute. I had a crush, but it’s gone.”

  “I can make your crush come back.” He leans back again, getting comfortable on the long couch. “In fact, I can make your crush come back with one little finger.” He holds up his hand between us and rubs his thumb and two fingers together.

  “I’m too old for crushes.”

  “You’ve seen how I play guitar. Why don’t you bring your sweet little ass over here and see what else I can play? I promise you, I can make your crush come back.”

  I glance over at the door again, but there’s no use. I can’t look away from Dylan. He’s the only thing in the world right now. The only thing I want. I’m powerless, and he knows it.

  He rubs his fingers again, a grin on his lips. “Come here. Come.”

  I take a hesitant step toward him.

  Chapter 3

  What am I doing?

  I’m taking another step closer to Dylan Wolf, who’s sitting on a leather sofa beckoning to me. He’s wearing jeans, but no shirt. The promise of sex is definitely in the air.

  If it wasn’t for his bare chest, in all its muscled glory, I’d probably run away. But that chest. All that gorgeous skin. I want to feel him under my fingers.

  We lock eyes. If sex is on the agenda, I need to tell him about myself. I need to tell him I don’t have any experience. I’m not just pretending to be innocent. I am inn
ocent.

  His hungry, dark eyes tell me I’m not going to be innocent for long.

  “You can sit here,” he says, patting the seat next to him. “Or here.” He pats his legs.

  I keep walking until I’m right in front of him.

  Obviously, I can’t sit right on his lap. I’d die.

  I turn around and start to sit next to him.

  How can I tell him about my lack of experience?

  His arms dart out and he grabs me for the second time today. He hauls me right onto his lap without asking.

  I squeal in surprise, then relax. I’m sideways on his lap, my neck turned so I’m facing him.

  Our lips are so close.

  Right about now would be a good moment to kiss.

  At this exact instant, the three minutes on his phone timer runs out. The phone begins to beep with an alarm.

  He reaches for the phone and fidgets for a few seconds before making it quiet.

  “There goes the virgin detector,” I say.

  He chuckles and stares at my lips. He’s got thick, dark eyelashes. That’s part of the reason his eyes are so amazing. He’s got those to-die-for eyelashes.

  “What do you mean virgin detector?” he asks.

  I can’t believe I actually said that out loud. Even worse, I can’t believe he wants me to explain myself.

  Instead of talking, I bring my hand up between us and trace my finger on the outline of his lips.

  “Ah, now I get it,” he says. “You’re saying that you’re a virgin?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyebrows scrunch together. Suddenly, he looks angry.

  “I don’t believe you.” His voice is hard.

  My mind is racing with a million thoughts, but it’s like a crowd of voices. I can’t focus on a single idea. I can feel Dylan’s bare chest against my arm. His bulging thighs underneath me. His presence is all-consuming. He’s like a fire, and I’m paper.

  He repeats himself. “I don’t believe you.”

  He moves quickly, pushing me back with one hand while grabbing my legs. In a heartbeat, I’m on my back. I’m stretched along the length of the couch.

  He’s on top of me. His body weight crushes against my chest, squeezing out my breath.

  His hands are moving, pulling up my skirt.

  I’m so confused. Should I scream for help? Is he really attacking me?

  My voice chokes in my throat.

  He’s not covering my mouth, but I feel like he is.

  “Dylan,” I say, my voice a faint whisper.

  My tight black skirt is up around my waist now, and his hands are on me. One hand slides between my thighs and moves up, stopping at my underwear.

  He raises his chest off me and looks down.

  “White underwear,” he growls. “Explain.”

  I stammer, “That… that’s what I wear every day.”

  His hand moves. Still between my legs, he rubs his hand up and down, over the white cotton fabric.

  My nerves begin to sing. He’s not even touching my skin down there, but the contact through the white cotton is sending waves of bliss through my body. I start to rock my hips, asking for more.

  “Maybe you are,” he says. “Or maybe you’re playing me. Are you playing me?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Do you like this?” He rubs harder, putting pressure on me with the edge of his hand.

  I rock my hips to answer his question. My breathing is shallow now. I’m gasping for breath, and it’s not just because of his weight on my chest.

  “What’s underneath these panties?” he asks.

  Now I get the giggles. “The usual stuff.”

  “Mind if I check?”

  My giggles disappear. I’m too nervous for them.

  “Sure,” I say weakly.

  He licks his lips, his mouth inches from mine. I’m dying for him to kiss me, but I’m also dying for…

  His fingers trace the edge of my white cotton panties. He’s partly on his side now, right alongside me on the long couch. His fingers trace up the the waistband and gently slip under the fabric.

  His fingertips move down, toward my heat.

  “You wax,” he says.

  “I do. I like not having to worry about shaving.”

  “You wax everything. That doesn’t say virgin to me.”

  I try to give him a dirty look, but it’s hard to move my face with him touching me.

  “My waxer is a woman,” I say. “There’s no guy who’s been there.”

  “Here?”

  His fingers slip down past a hot spot and push in by a fingertip.

  I gasp.

  Without a doubt, no guy has ever been there. If I’d known how good it felt, maybe I would have let a guy try. But nobody else has ever made me feel the way Dylan does. I’ve been curious, like with Mr. Jock at college, but just curious. I never really wanted to be touched this way by anyone.

  Until now.

  He explores further. His fingers are firm yet gentle. He strokes my bare folds and the heat builds. My eyes close.

  His body shifts, and his lips touch mine.

  My whole body feels like it’s made of sparks.

  He kisses me. His lips are soft, and then hard. His tongue thrusts into my mouth. I’m surprised, but I open myself to him. I’ve kissed boys before. I can do this part.

  We’re kissing now, and I’m in heaven. His hand stops moving. My hips move with a mind of their own, rocking against his fingers.

  He pulls away from my lips and stares down at me. His dark eyes are those of a stranger. I don’t know this man. He looks hungry.

  “Let’s not take this slow,” he says.

  I blink up at him in disbelief. I heard the words, but they don’t make sense.

  “Roll over and get on your knees,” he says. “Let’s get this done. Let’s make you my little whore.”

  I blink again. I can feel tears forming behind my eyes.

  His hand is out of my panties now. He’s working on his belt, unfastening it.

  “Roll over,” he says.

  His voice is hard and cold.

  I sniff and bite my tongue, biting back the hurt and the tears.

  Pushing him away, I mumble, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  He pulls away, looking angry. “Fine. Go do what you need to do. Then get back here and we’ll get down to business. Unless you want to get up to the bedroom? If the couch isn’t good enough for you?”

  I shift my body out from under his and get to my feet. One of my shoes came off, so I put it back on now.

  I start walking toward the front door. My skirt is up around my waist, so I push it down and straighten the fabric out. My head is light, my ears ringing.

  “That’s not the way to the bathroom,” he calls out.

  My hand is on the front door’s handle.

  I can leave. Just leave and say nothing.

  I turn the knob, then stop. He’s still on the couch, not coming after me.

  I turn around.

  He’s got the biggest grin on his face, like he just won or something. Now I’m angry.

  “Dylan Wolf, you can go fuck yourself.”

  His grin doesn’t crack. “Feel better now?”

  “You’re not that good a singer.”

  He doesn’t even flinch. “Tell Morris Music I said hello.”

  “Fuck you.”

  I yank open the door and step outside.

  The door slams shut behind me.

  Now I’m in the shadowy alcove between two buildings.

  I hear feet on the gravel near me.

  I’m not alone.

  Chapter 4

  The guy standing in the shadows says, “Oh, shit. Jess.”

  “Nick?”

  I can relax now. Nick doesn’t scare me at all. In fact, just seeing him makes me feel better. I haven’t talked to my coworker at Morris Music since yesterday morning, in the basement archives. He’s my only friend at my new job, and I’ve missed him today
.

  I sputter, “What are you doing here?”

  He holds his finger up to his lips, over the silver piercings. “Shh. I’m not here.”

  “Are you a ghost?” I whisper. “Are you Casper the Unfriendly Goth?”

  I call Nick that because he wears black from head to toe, and his face is full of various piercings. He doesn’t laugh or show much emotion on his face. But he’s decent enough, as far as I know.

  “Come with me,” Nick says.

  I look over my shoulder at the dark blue door. Part of me wishes Dylan would yank open the door and come chasing after me. If he apologizes, I might forgive him for being so rude. Only if he seems really sorry.

  The door doesn’t open.

  Nick leads the way to a big, white van. It’s the kind of van cable guys and electricians drive around in.

  What is going on? This whole day has been cray cray. I half expect a bunch of ninjas to jump out of the van. Or zombies. Or who knows.

  He opens the passenger door, and I climb in. The floor at the back of the van is empty except for some cardboard boxes and a chair. The walls hold some stuff, but it’s dark back there and my eyes are still adjusting from the bright sun.

  Nick crosses around the front of the van and gets in the driver’s side.

  “You’ve had a rough morning,” he says.

  I take another look in the back of the van. The interior walls do have some tools, hanging on pegboard.

  “What are you looking for?” Nick asks.

  “Ninjas and zombies.”

  He turns and looks with me. “No zombies.”

  Just as he says that, a monitor screen on the van’s interior wall flickers on.

  I let out a string of swear words.

  On the screen is a view inside Dylan’s firehall building. As I’m watching, he paces around, pulling his shirt back on. He crosses over to the kitchen and the screen changes to a different view.

  “Nick, what the hell is going on?”

  He groans and holds his hands to his face. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

  Crouching down, he climbs between our seats and flicks off the monitor.

  “I’m just watching your back, Jess.”

  I’m flooded with emotions now, barely able to speak.

  My words come out slowly. “On… a surveillance system?” My tears are threatening to burst out.