Our gazes locked, and neither one of us blinked while I took a long sip of the whiskey. My poker face held firm as the spirit burned a path down my throat and warmth pooled in my belly. It tasted awful, but it always bolstered my courage.
"You look beautiful," Dylan murmured, reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "Flustered, but beautiful."
He looked like he wanted to push the issue further, so I took matters into my own hands. Rising up on my tiptoes, I cupped the back of his neck and pulled his lips down to mine. I must have surprised him. It just wasn't in my nature to make the first move, to assert myself, or to take charge. Too many years under Blake's control, and my father before him, had turned me into this... weak, submissive thing. I hated it. I hated me. But I had no way out.
Except when I was with Dylan. He made me feel things that I’d thought Blake had snuffed out. Like joy... and hope. But it was all bullshit, and it had to end.
Last fucking time.
So I'd better make it count.
He only hesitated a second before he was kissing me back. His full lips claimed me in a way that was all consuming, chasing away all the demons in my mind and leaving nothing but pure, undiluted lust.
I reached out blindly, dropped my glass on the table beside us, then threaded my other hand up to knead the strong muscles of his neck. Like any good drug, the more I had of him, the more I wanted. Needed. Fuck me, this would be hard to give up.
My lips parted, and he didn't miss a beat, his tongue slipping in and meeting mine with that demanding passion he always brought to our hookups. Fucking hell, he was good with that tongue.
"Wait," I gasped as his hands slipped under my T-shirt, lifting it slightly. "Can we turn the lights off?"
Arousal clouded my brain so much that I couldn't find a subtler way to ask. I just knew that if he stripped my shirt off now, even with the soft glow of lamplight, he'd see what Blake had done to me. The ache in my body said that the bruises were in full bloom now, and the last thing I needed was Dylan asking questions.
"Sure," he agreed, but not without giving me a slightly suspicious look.
He was so fucking smart. He needed to be in his line of work, I guessed.
Still, without further questions, he turned the lights off and plunged us into nearly total darkness. Only the lights from the city outside the open blinds lit the room, giving it a dim glow—just enough that we could find one another to strip our clothes off in a flurry of kisses and caresses.
Pain flared through my ribs as Dylan's hands cupped my sides a fraction too hard, but I just clenched my teeth and swallowed the wince of pain. I wasn't letting Blake ruin this for me. Not when it was the last time.
"Are you okay?" Dylan broke his lips away from my neck and cupped my face in his huge hand. If the light had been any better, we'd have been peering into each other's eyes. But as it was, his face was fully in shadow, and I prayed mine was too. Anything to hide the mess of emotions swirling through my mind.
I jerked a nod, letting my actions speak for me. My fingers hooked under the elastic waistband of his boxer-briefs, tugging them down and revealing his impressive erection.
Holy hell, Dylan Grant had a gorgeous dick. Then again, it was the only one I'd ever seen, so I wasn't exactly an expert in the area. I could only go off the fact that I was thoroughly, undeniably addicted to this dick. I knew I was only making him more suspicious with my weird behavior—I was never aggressive in bed—but I was past caring. I wanted this last time with Dylan to be epic so I could hold onto the memories forever.
He sucked a breath between his teeth as I closed my hand around his hard cock, stroking him with an out-of-character confidence. It wasn't enough, though. Biting my lower lip against the rush of nerves and excitement, I gave him a small push toward the bed, and he sat heavily. I followed a moment later, sinking to my knees between his spread thighs.