“Morning,” Dylan whispered huskily in my ear. My body felt sore but languid, an after effect of the amazing things we’d done last night.

All. The. Things. We’d. Done.

What on earth had possessed me?

Oh right. Now I remembered. Dylan worked his romantic charms, and I simply couldn’t keep my knickers on. He sucked and nuzzled my neck as he pressed his thickening erection into the curve of my lower back. I moaned when his hand dipped between my legs. I was wet already.

His skilled fingers slid down my folds and dipped inside for a second. I arched my spine in invitation for him to keep going.

“I could stay here all day making you come,” he murmured just as I heard movement out in the kitchen. There was the recognisable clink of Yvonne placing her breakfast dishes in the sink. I froze and wondered if she heard my moan. Embarrassment seized my body. I mean, she’d never expect things to progress as quickly with Dylan as they had. She probably thought . . . man, she probably thought I was making use of the vibrator that was buried under a pile of T-shirts at the bottom of my wardrobe.

Not that she knew I had it or anything.

“What’s wrong?” Dylan asked, and I scrambled to cover his mouth.

“Yvonne’s out there,” I whispered, and his lips formed a smirk behind my hand.

“You’re not a teenager anymore, Ev. You’re allowed to have sex.”

“Yes, I know that. I’m just . . . embarrassed, okay?”

His gaze softened, and I resented how handsome he looked when he did that. “You’re fucking adorable.”

I scowled but didn’t say anything, waiting for Yvonne to leave for work. Glancing at the clock, it was almost eight. She always left the apartment at eight on the dot. I knew because I usually woke up to the slam of the door being shut then would drift back off to sleep until midday.

Regular as clockwork, the door opened and closed with a loud snick. I slumped back into the pillows in relief.

Dylan stroked my hair away from my forehead, staring down at me with affection. “I should be leaving, too,” he said with regret.

I swallowed. “Listen, Dylan, about last night—”

His finger went to my lips to stop me. “Let’s just enjoy this, Ev. I know you’re still not ready, and I’m willing to be patient. We can go at whatever pace you need.”

God, he was too perfect.

I let out a low chuckle. “We just spent the night having sex. Pretty sure my pace is completely out of whack.”

“Well then, for now we can be friends. Really, really close friends,” he said, with a devilish grin.

I shoved him away and rolled my eyes, even though the idea of being friends with Dylan while being able to use his body for sex was dead appealing. I felt like a bit of a scumbag for thinking it, but there it was.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he went on, distracting me from my thoughts. “I have a charity event I’m attending tomorrow night, and I’d love if you’d be my date. It’s to raise money for homelessness.”

“Oh,” I said, taken off guard. “I mean, I’d love to go but I have nothing to wear to something like that.”

“Evelyn, when are you going to realise that I couldn’t care less what you’re wearing? You own a dress, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then that’s perfect. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

Before I had a chance to respond, he was out of bed and pulling on the clothes he’d shed last night. I admired his naked form before it was covered, then got up, and headed into the kitchen.

“Do you want breakfast before you go?” I called back.

He came out of my room, sliding his tie around his neck. “I’m in a real hurry, love. But maybe next time.”

“That’s okay,” I said and went to put some toast on for myself. My thighs clenched at the idea of a next time. Dylan wrapped his arms around me from behind and pressed his lips to my neck. “I’ll miss you today.”

“Me, too,” I whispered in reply.

He caught my mouth in a quick kiss then hustled to the door, turning back just before he left. “See you tomorrow, Evelyn.”

* * *

Later that day evening, about an hour before I had to go to work, my inbox pinged with a new email.

Tuesday 17:11 [email protected] to [email protected]gmail.com

I’ve been thinking about you all day . . .

Tuesday 17:13 [email protected] to [email protected]dylanscents.com

Me, too.

About you, I mean.

Tuesday 17:15 [email protected] to [email protected]gmail.com

Can I call you?

I chewed on my lip, wondering what he wanted to talk about, then shot off a simple reply: YES. My phone lit up with a call not long after.

“Hey,” I answered, hesitant. Now that we had a day of distance between us, I felt unsure of myself. I also felt selfish for leading him on, especially when I didn’t know how long it would take for me to be ready for a proper relationship.

I was officially one of those indecisive arseholes who strung people along.

Oh God . . .

I was Kourtney Kardashian.

But then, that would mean Dylan was Scott, and he was absolutely nothing like him.

And yes, having no close friends and no social life these past few years left a lot of room for reality TV.

“Evelyn,” he breathed. He sounded . . . aroused, and my stomach flipped at the mere idea of a turned-on Dylan.

“What did you want to talk about?” I asked tightly, trying to sound normal when I was feeling anything but.

“I can’t stop thinking about last night . . .” A sigh. “The noises you made, your taste.”

My breathing grew choppy, his voice working me up. I really hoped he was someplace private. “I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

“Do you know how much I’ve missed the feel of you?” he went on. “All day I’ve wanted you in my arms.”

I swallowed and closed my eyes. This was on the verge of turning into phone sex, and I was helpless to stop it.

“Where are you right now?”

“In my bedroom,” I whispered. “Getting ready for work.”

He swore under his breath. “I’m at the office.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Come over. I want to fuck you on my desk.”

“Dylan,” I gasped. When we were younger, he’d never been shy, but this grown-up version of him was very forward. He didn’t mince his words. And a part of me liked that very much.

“Come over,” he repeated.

“I can’t. I have a shift.”

“You can call in sick,” he argued, a seductive lilt to his voice.

I lay back on my bed and my hand somehow found its way to my stomach, my palm flat to my skin. “You’ll see me tomorrow,” I whispered.

He groaned softly. “I’m not sure I can wait that long.”

“It’ll be a lesson in delayed gratification,” I said, teasing now.

He swore under his breath. “This entire day has been a lesson in delayed gratification.”

The strained needfulness in his voice caused the spot between my thighs to ache. My hand moved lower. I slipped it under the hem of my knickers and between the folds of my sex. I was wet, so wet, and all from a small amount of time on the phone with Dylan. I must’ve made some sort of noise, because he emitted a low, rumbling groan.

“What are you doing?”

“Just keep talking.”

“Fucking hell, Ev.”

I circled my finger around my clit, my hips arching instinctively. My breathing grew heavy as I felt an orgasm build. Dylan had this magic that was all his own; he could make me come just from talking.

“Remember when I used to go down on you in your bedroom before school? I could taste you on my mouth all day afterwards,” he said, and it drove me higher.

“And that time we made love in the storage cupboard at the back of the chemistry lab? It’s still the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“You pushed me up against the cupboard,” I said past a moan, remembering. “I thought someone would walk in.”

“But they didn’t. You came while I was still inside you. It felt incredible.”

“God . . . Dylan . . .”

“It was so hard to concentrate during lessons, when I knew you were just a few rooms away.”

“You caught me between classes often enough,” I said, panting.

“Couldn’t help it. I’d spend half of my physics lab daydreaming about your body, how you felt when I was inside you. Some days . . . I just couldn’t wait until school ended. And that first time you sucked my cock, Christ, Ev . . .”

“Oh, God, Dylan, I’m gonna . . .”

I was silent when my orgasm hit. It was swift and intense. I clenched my thighs, swallowing as it subsided.

“Jesus,” he muttered down the line. “Do you know how hard I am right now?”

As soon as the pleasure petered out, I was filled with a sense of embarrassment, which was ridiculous given what we did last night.

“Dylan, I—”

“No. Don’t you dare, Ev. There’s no shyness between us, okay?”

My reply was a whisper, “Okay.”

“You feel good?”

I flushed. “Yeah.”

“Good. Maybe tomorrow you’ll let me make you feel good in person.”

I couldn’t help my sigh. When we hung up I flopped back in bed, wondering how on earth I was going to get through an entire shift after having phone sex with Dylan, his husky, beguiling voice replaying my head.

The next day, I managed to convince Yvonne to lend me her red dress to wear to the charity event. I was a little bigger than she was, but it still fit me okay. The contoured design meant it clung to every curve. I understood why she was always so hesitant to wear it, because although it went to just below the knee, it still left very little to the imagination.

“Look at you,” she crooned when I stepped out of my bedroom. “Jessica Rabbit.”

I smirked and waved a hand at her. “Oh shush.” Then conspiratorially. “But tell me more.”

“You look gorgeous. Dylan’s going to lose his mind. I can’t believe you two are going on a date. I feel giddy.”

“Well, you can set your giddy pants aside for now. Yes, I’m his date, but it’s not a date.”

Yvonne scrunched her brows. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It does in my head.”

The door buzzed, so I grabbed my coat and bag. I didn’t want Yvonne making any more of a song and dance, so I headed downstairs to meet Dylan instead of inviting him up. He stood in the lobby wearing a tux. A TUX. My libido just about died went to heaven.

RIP.

My long coat was buttoned all the way up. I wasn’t ready to show him the dress yet, even though he’d already seen it on Yvonne. It was just so . . . boobsy. And while my aunt was a B-cup, I was a D. Two letters made a world of difference.

Dylan’s brow arched slightly. He could tell I was hiding something. “What’s up with you? Nervous?”

“It’s boobsy,” I blurted and he let out a confused laugh.

“Pardon?”

“My dress. It shows a lot of—”

“Décolletage?”

“Yes.” Damn, that was a good word. Way better than boobsy.

His lips curved as he stepped closer. “Okay, now I have to see.”

I held a hand out. “Not until we get to the event.”

He reached for me and clasped my shoulders in his palms. “Why not now?”

I shot him an arch look. “Because if I do we won’t make it to the event.”

“No?”

I stepped by him and moved toward the door, where a town car idled just outside. “No. You’ll get all handsy with my boobsys.”

Dylan let out a bark of a laugh. “God, you’re so weird.”

His tone said God, I adore you, which was why a rosy blush coloured my cheeks. He stepped ahead of me and opened the door to the waiting car. I slid inside, feeling like an imposter but also loving the opulence. I was one of those people who were all, spa days are for spoiled housewives. But then as soon as someone said they’re paying, I was already in a bathrobe, cucumber slices on each eye, while a lady dressed in white gave me a pedicure.

Even in Yvonne’s lucky red dress, I still felt intimidated when we arrived at the hotel where the event was being held. With Dylan’s hand in mine, I looked around, taking it all in. What was it about rich people that somehow made them look glossier than us regular folk?

Money, probably.

“It’s all those face creams with the baby foreskin mixed in,” Dylan replied, because yes, I’d asked the question out loud. I screwed up my mouth in disgust.

“Is that actually a thing?”

He shrugged. “Might be.”

“Ugh. The saying is true that some people have more money than sense.”

He chuckled low. “That they do.”

“I’m a little nervous,” I confessed.

Dylan came and caught my chin between his fingers, then laid a soft kiss on my lips. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?”

“Maybe. But you can mention it again if you like.”

“You’re beautiful, Evelyn.”

“Why, thank you,” I said and linked my arm through his. “Now let’s go get some food. I’m starved. They better have good appetizers at this thing.”

“For twenty thousand a table I’m sure they do”

“Twenty K a table? Wow. Some people really do have more money than sense.”

“It’s for charity, Ev.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “You all just like to swish around in fancy getups and feel like you’re making the world a better place.”

He cast me an amused look. “You’re in a sassy mood tonight.” He moved closer, his lips at my ear when he breathed. “Maybe later I’ll fuck it out of you.”

My breath got stuck in my throat, butterflies flitting around in my stomach. I swallowed and mustered a bold expression. “Will you now?”

He didn’t answer, only smiled with confidence, took my hand and led me farther into the event. Pleasurable goose bumps danced along my neck.

A little while later, we were seated at a table. Dylan and I sat with a few other people from his company, including Conor. I was surprised he came without a date, then wondered if he’d asked Yvonne. That wagon better not have turned him down. I knew she wanted him, she just wouldn’t allow herself to have him.

“That dress looks way better on your aunt,” he commented as though reading my mind. I stuck out my tongue.

“Well, of course you’d think that.”

Dylan chuckled and took a swig from his glass. “Don’t listen to him. You look amazing.”

“Hello, Mr O’Dea. Mr Abrahams.”

All three of us turned to see Laura standing by our table. She wore a sparkly black dress that made her red hair appear particularly striking, her lips coated in a dark matte lipstick. The look was very femme fatale, and very geared towards impressing Dylan, I imagined. I couldn’t help the way it made my gut tighten with envy. She looked incredible.

Her eyes wandered from Dylan and then to me, lingering a moment on the way his hand rested on my thigh. There was a brief flash of jealousy in her gaze and then it was gone.

“Laura, you look well,” Conor said.

“Yes, good to see you,” Dylan added stiffly.

After our conversation the other night, he knew I was wary of their past. I felt like he was being careful not to do or say anything that might make me suspect he still liked her. And that made me feel bad, because I didn’t want him walking on eggshells.

“I really like your dress,” I said kindly, hoping Dylan saw it as a sign that I didn’t mind her being here. If they were over, there was no need for any weirdness. This thing between us was so new, there was no point being uptight.

She cast a glance my way. “Thanks. Yours is very . . . red.”

Well, at least she didn’t call it slutty. There wasn’t really any response I could give, so I simply smiled politely and sipped my wine.

Laura took her seat on the other side of the table and chatted with some of her colleagues, but every once in a while, her eyes landed on me. Although she put on a good mask, I could see her displeasure. And I couldn’t even blame her for hating me. If I’d had Dylan as a temporary bedfellow, I’d be dreaming up notions of more just the same as she was.

I made a mental note to talk to her later, clear the air somehow. If she was going to be working at Dylan for the foreseeable future, we needed to at least be civil.

My chance came when she headed for the bathrooms. I excused myself to Dylan and followed after her. She went inside a stall, but didn’t notice me. I dawdled by the sink, and checked my appearance while I waited for her to emerge.

I felt odd waiting there, but this needed to be done. Other than her fondness for Dylan and dislike of me, she seemed like a decent person.

I pretended to wash my hands when she came out. She looked up, halting a moment when she saw me, then continued to the sink.

“Hi, Laura,” I said, trying to sound friendly. “Are you having a good night?”

She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. “Yes, I’m having a lovely night, Evelyn. Thank you for asking.”

If I wasn’t mistaken, her tone was a smidge tetchy.

“Well, I’m glad.”

“And I’m glad that you’re glad,” she snipped, not bothering to hide her displeasure now.

I was above replying with, I’m glad that you’re glad that I’m glad.

But just barely.

“Look, I want to clear the air.”

She put a hand out to stop me. “Don’t bother. I’m sure Dylan’s told you all about us. He’s not the type to hide that sort of thing, but if you think we’re going to be friends you’ve got another think coming. I knew him for months and then you just came along, and poof, he’s taking you out on dates and telling me not to call or text him anymore. Do you know how awful that feels?”

My guy clenched, because I suddenly felt bad for her. I tried to see things from her point of view and knew it must’ve hurt to be rejected like that. My expression was empathetic when I replied, “I’m sorry, you must feel horrible.”

She sniffled and went to grab a tissue “Don’t be nice. I don’t need you turning out to be a kind person on top of all this.”

What she said made me smile a little, because it was exactly what I might’ve said if I were in her position. Maybe Laura wasn’t so bad . . .

“Please don’t tell him I cried in here. I already cried in front of him when I screwed up an order at work the other week. I’m sure he thinks I’m an emotional and weak woman.”

I arched a brow. “If he ever thought that I wouldn’t be with him.”

Wait, was I with him?

Laura groaned and crumpled up her tissue. “God, you are nice.”

I shrugged. “I like to think I’m not a complete bitch. Dylan and I were childhood sweethearts,” I said. “He came back into my life recently, and well, it’s all been a little out our control really.”

“Oh.” She took a deep breath and nodded, and then I saw resolution in her expression.

She went over to the mirror to fix her make-up. “That makes more sense.” I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but for some reason it made her smile. Did she think it was only because there was history between Dylan and me that he was interested in me now rather than her?

“You don’t have to explain. I’d rather hate you than like you, but I get it.” She gets what?

After she’d touched up her lipstick, she let out a tired sigh. “Listen, I’m not stupid, I can see how Dylan looks at you. I know trying to get him back is pointless, and I love my job too much to jeopardise it that way. Still, I’ve barely known him six months and already I can tell he’s one of the best and most talented men I’ve ever met. I hope you know how lucky you are.”

She dropped her lipstick back in her bag then walked out the door. I didn’t know what to make of her little speech, but it did make me question if I was good enough for Dylan. I still didn’t understand why he had such high opinions of me. At least when we were teenagers, I’d been cheerful and full of life. I had passion. Now I was a directionless bartender who enjoyed watching mindless reality TV, painting her nails, and wasting time laughing at Internet memes in her spare time.

I wasn’t special.

Not like Dylan.

As though my thoughts summoned him, he appeared outside the bathroom when I emerged. He took my hand, eyes bright like he was excited for some unknown reason.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” he said, and I let him pull me down the hallway. We walked through the main function room and out into a smaller atrium. People stood drinking wine and eating canapés, but at the centre of the room was a large and very impressive flower display. It was similar to the one out front, only bigger and more intricate.

“One of the sponsors of the event owns a flower farm in New Jersey called Hillview. They made all of the arrangements.”

“They’re beautiful,” I said, and I meant it. Looking at the display made my heart beat faster, like I could see a life for myself through fractured glass. One I could’ve had if things had been different. One I still could have if I was brave enough to take a chance.

The idea was more powerful now that I was becoming fixated on how ordinary I felt compared to Dylan.

The display was like an artistic expression of a meadow. There were forget-me-nots and pansies, gardens mums and morning glories. It was an explosion of colour to dazzle the eyes, a feast of scents to seduce your nose.

“I know the owner,” Dylan said. “I buy flowers from him on occasion when I’m developing new perfumes.”

“Oh?” I replied, curious.

“Would you like to meet him?”

I narrowed my gaze, both charmed and disgruntled at the same time. “You know I do, you bastard.”

He chuckled. “I said I’d get you gardening again.”

“Yes,” I answered back. “And your determination knows no bounds.”

His smile was everything as he turned and guided me back into the main function room.