“Ev, you can head home now. Your shift’s over,” said Ger, the other bartender on duty.

I blinked several times and turned to him. “Right. Thanks.”

He frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” I said and stepped by him. Dylan sat at the bar. His eyes followed me as I went into the staffroom to collect my things. His voice echoed in my head, his romantic words warming all the parts of me that were cold. The way he looked at me was all-consuming. Most people could only dream of being looked at in such a way. And there he was right in front of me, his eyes telling me I could have him if only I was brave enough to reach out and take.

He made me weak. He made me want. Every part of me fizzled with the need to feel his touch, to touch him in return. It was so much I could hardly stand it any longer.

I walked out, and he was still there. His eyes asked a question. I came closer, swallowing several times as I gathered my nerve, then said, “Take me home.”

Dylan didn’t breathe a word, only nodded and stood to offer me his hand. We didn’t have too much trouble hailing a taxi, but it was a quiet journey. Pent-up emotions clogged the enclosed space.

“You left your top at my apartment,” Dylan said, stroking a hand through my hair.

“I know,” I replied, not looking at him. “And I still have your T-shirt.”

“Keep it,” he offered and I smiled.

“I did always love it on you.”

The taxi stopped then, and Dylan paid the driver. He got out first and came around to open my side. I didn’t know what I was doing bringing him home with me, but after our conversation at the bar, I wasn’t ready to say goodnight.

When it came to Dylan, I’d never been ready to say goodnight.

I couldn’t believe how quickly I’d fallen back under his spell. Sure, in the time we’d been apart I’d thought about him almost every day, but that didn’t mean I ever expected to see him again. Especially not after that night we spent together in his tiny, cheap hotel room. I fled before he woke up, and left nothing but a hasty, sentimental note written on the back of an envelope.

I led him upstairs to the apartment, placing my finger to my lips for him to be quiet. “Yvonne’s asleep,” I said and slotted my key in the door.

We stepped inside, and Dylan silently helped me off with my coat. His eyes traced my features, focusing on my lips. I turned and dropped my keys into the bowl on the coffee table.

“Want some tea?” I whispered.

“Sure,” he replied and took a seat on the couch.

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” I said, going to turn the electric heater on in my bedroom. The building didn’t have a great boiler, so my room was really cold some nights. I was almost to my door when two arms wrapped around me from behind. I shuddered when he dipped his mouth to my neck and gave a kiss.

“I don’t really want tea,” he murmured.

“What do you want?” I asked shakily.

“You,” he replied, then walked me forward until my chest met the wall. He held me there, captive. His erection pushed into my lower back, while his mouth licked and sucked at my neck. I was so aroused I couldn’t think straight.

“Be with me tonight,” he whispered, hand groping down the front of my body, over my breasts and stomach before dipping between my legs. I arched my back when he cupped me there, and a low rumble emanated from deep in his chest.

His hand gripped the back of my neck and he directed me toward my bedroom. Without the heater on, I knew it must’ve been freezing, but I couldn’t feel the cold. I was too busy burning from Dylan’s touch. Still behind me, he carefully lowered me onto the bed. He reached around my body to massage my breast over the top of my clothes, then lowered his hands to undo my pants. In an abrupt movement he yanked them down, revealing my knickers. He ran his hands over the lace then pulled those down, too.

Seconds later his mouth was on me, and I gasped at the sensation.

Dylan O’Dea, perfumer and businessman extraordinaire, was eating me out from behind.

My mouth gaped as I panted. I wanted to moan but I had to stay quiet in case Yvonne heard. I made a small yelp when his teeth grazed my clit, and he clucked his tongue.

“Not a sound, Evelyn. We can’t be heard,” he chided naughtily. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my teeth. His mouth felt way too good for silence.

“This is torture,” I whispered.

“The good kind, I hope,” Dylan teased and pulled my legs farther apart to get a better angle. I gasped. “God, I’ve missed you. Your taste. Your body.” He pushed me higher and higher until I couldn’t hold back anymore.

I came with a shudder and had to bite down on my pillow to keep from screaming. Dylan quickly flipped me on my back and pulled my top up over my head. He did away with my bra and pulled his own shirt off, too. I helped him with his trousers, but his blasted belt was being difficult.

He laughed huskily at my frustration and I finally managed to get it open.

“Eager,” he whispered then caught my mouth in a deep, erotic kiss. We stayed like that for a while. I was less frantic now that I’d come, and I wanted to savour him. Dylan’s cock pressed against my inner thigh and the hot, hard feel of it sent my hormones into a tailspin. My arousal built again, and still kissing him, I reached out to open my bedside table. I fumbled blindly through the bits and pieces until my fingers met the smooth, cool foil I was searching for.

Dylan broke our kiss. “What on earth are you—?”

He stopped when I held up the condom then smirked. “Prepared, are we?”

I grinned. “I was saving it for a special occasion.”

He plucked it from my grasp and tossed it aside. “Were you now?” he murmured, capturing my mouth in his. I got lost in his lips again, and when he slid inside me for a second, I gasped. He grunted and pulled out, feeling around the bed for the condom.

“Better put this on,” he said gruffly.

I watched in horny fascination as he slid the rubber down his length then came closer. He held himself above me, gazed down at me, and breathed, “My muse.”

He didn’t take his eyes off me when he pushed inside, and his entire body shuddered in pleasure.

He made love to me slowly. With every inhale he took, I exhaled. For every inhale I took, he exhaled. Both of us were conscious to avoid making any sound, but somehow that made everything more intense.

Grey light filtered through the window. It was late. So late it was almost early.

Dylan and I made love until the sun started to move above the horizon, the golden rays filtering through the deep blue depths of his irises. We fell asleep, and with his entire body curled around me, it was the most peaceful I’d felt in over a decade.