Page 61 of Crossed Wires: The Complete Series
Dylan nodded again, his gaze unreadable.
“And you told your mom you loved her back?”
His dimple flashed in his right cheek. “I did. A bit wussy I know, but hey, you caught me. My secret’s out. I’m a wuss.”
Monet shrugged, her mouth dry. “Nothing wrong with a guy telling his mom he loves?—”
Her woeful attempt at being flippant never finished. Dylan destroyed the space between them in two long strides and crushed her lips with a kiss of such hungry force, it was all she could do to hold on and kiss him back.
All she could do? No. She could tell him to stop. Could remind him of Annie.
“Dylan,” she panted, dragging her lips from his. “This is?—”
His mouth captured hers before the breathless protest could pass her lips.
Her head spun. She clung to him, fighting to remember whom he was here for. Oh boy, the guy kissed like a demon.
Oh boy oh boy oh?—
He hauled her off her feet. Just like that, as if she weighed nothing, he scooped her up into his arms and threw her onto the sofa.
She let out a little squeal, the sound silenced by his kiss again. A kiss that worshiped her lips as his hands unbuttoned her shirt and unclipped her bra.
Oh boy.
Her fingers stole to his shoulders, the hair on the nape of his neck. She stroked her tongue over his, arching off the sofa in an attempt to press her pussy to his groin. Oh God, she wanted him inside her.
Now.
“Dylan,” she breathed, pleasure lashing through her as he dragged his mouth up to her ear, his teeth nipping at her earlobe. “Take…take off your…”
Clothes.
The command finished in her head. A second before scalding shame and guilt crashed over her.
Hotter and more absolute than her lust.
She froze, her fingers on Dylan’s shoulders. Oh God, what was shedoing?
Flattening her palms on his chest, she shoved. Hard.
“Stop,” she gasped, squirming out from beneath him. “Stop, we can’t.”
She fell off the sofa, her knees thunking on the wooden floor. The dull sound echoed through her apartment like a muffled gunshot.
“Fuck. Oh fuck.”
Dylan’s hoarse whisper jerked up her head and she stared at him as she scrambled to her feet.
He sat on the edge of the sofa, his expression beyond shell-shocked. His eyes were squeezed shut, his fists were buried in his hair.
“Fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” He rose to his feet and crossed to the window. “I’m sorry, Monet. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Monet sucked in a ragged breath. She stared at his back, her heart wild in her throat. “I should have stopped you.” Her voice sounded weak. “We both need to…”
She didn’t finished. Instead, she spun on her heel and all but ran to her bedroom.
Throwing herself onto her bed, she snatched up her phone and dialed Annie’s cell number.
