Dylan (Dark Legacy #4) - Jaymin Eve Page 0,83

together... In my memory, he'd been interested in nothing but losing himself in my body for the whole night. But now I found myself analyzing our encounters more closely. And the more I thought about it, the more I remembered him trying.

The first couple of times we'd met up after that initial night together, he'd offered to meet in public places like restaurants and bars, but I was the one who'd shut him down. I'd been so paranoid that Blake would find out, it was me who had pushed our liaisons into the privacy of a hotel room. It was me who’d refused to talk about my life or anything personal. All along, it was me who had the walls up, who wouldn't let things progress beyond casual fuck buddies.

Yet he’d kept coming back. He’d kept making excuses to be in town and to meet up, and he’d honored my near pathological need for secrecy.

Were the girls right? Ugh, thinking about the possibility of Dylan actually caring was making my headache worse than it already was. I needed to lie down.

I let myself back into the room with the incredible bed and flopped down without even taking my hoodie off. The movement hurt my ribs, and I just moaned in pain against the pillows. They held a familiar scent, one I couldn't place, but it was welcome.

My thoughts were so loud inside my head, though, that I didn't even notice the shower was running in the attached bathroom until it shut off. Then I froze.

"Are you okay?" Dylan asked, and I lifted my face from the pillow just long enough to look over at him. He was in the doorway to the bathroom, steam billowing from behind his broad frame and just a towel slung around his trim hips.

God damn. It should be illegal to be so sexy. It sure as fuck wasn't fair when I needed to be mad at him.

Needed. Not wanted, needed. Because I was quickly realizing that since day one, it had been me holding him at arm's length. The whole excuse of him being in love with Riley was just that: an excuse. And not even one backed by facts, only gossip and suspicion.

I was the asshole here, not him.

27

Dylan's brows rose and his lips moved, but it took me an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize he was speaking to me. Shit.

"Um, sorry, what did you say?" I cleared my throat and licked my lips. Dammit.

The corners of his mouth tugged into a small smile. "I asked if you're feeling okay, Brooke. You really should still be in the hospital."

I rolled over to sit up and ran a hand through my fluffy, white-blonde curls. "Yeah, well, someone redecorated my hospital room with death, so I didn't have much choice." I’d intended it as a casual comment to change the subject away from the fact that I'd just been totally lost in drooling all over his body. But it came out with an edge of accusation, and Dylan's jaw tightened.

"If you think I'm going to apologize for what I did to Blake, I won't." His voice was cold and emotionless, his eyes like shards of glass.

I frowned, biting my lip to force myself to look at his face and only his face. "I wasn't..." I started to argue, then trailed off and shook my head. "I'm not expecting anything from you, Dylan. I didn't ask to be in this position."

He and I both knew I was talking about a whole lot more than just my abusive brother and the fact that Dylan had likely spent the whole day torturing him before killing him.

He didn't address all that underlying baggage, though, because as he took two steps toward me, I couldn't help but let my gaze drift down his body. He was still wet and glistening from the shower, and every dark plane of his muscular chest was begging to be touched. Licked. Kissed.

Fuck.

"Brooke, you're looking at me like you want more than a conversation right now," he murmured in a suggestive tone. He took another step toward me, and my breathing hitched.

Damn it, he was right. My mouth was dry with anticipation and my pussy throbbing in need. I wanted him so freaking bad, despite all our issues right now.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, my voice thick with desire.

He gave me a sly, lopsided smile. "Sure, you don't."

His towel dropped to the floor, and I almost swallowed my tongue. There

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