Chapter 8
It was Saturday, and Rylie was fuming. Dustin hadn’t been into work the rest of the week. He’d told Kelly that he had a virus and was sick in bed.
But Rylie knew better. He wasn’t sick; he was pouting. If he was sick, then she wouldn’t have seen Paula Kramer sneaking out of his house this morning with her heels in her hand and her hair looking like she’d spent all night with Dustin Kent’s hands in it.
This had nothing to do with the fact that he’d been avoiding her since his blow up at the grocery store, or that his bedroom was a revolving door. They had stuff to get done. He was her partner, for better or worse.
So his butt was going to work even if she had to drag him out of the house and lock him in the trunk of her car.
She marched up the steps to the house and knocked on the door. Victoria opened it several moments later, a wide smile on her face.
“Ah, Rylie, are you hungry? I can make you whatever you like.”
“Thank you, Victoria, I’m okay. I was actually wondering if Dustin was up yet.”
Victoria appeared slightly uncomfortable as she said, “Mr. Kent is still in bed, I’m afraid. He has been under the weather.”
I bet.
“Do you mind if I just go up and have a chat with him? It’s about work.”
Victoria’s eyes twinkled. “Are you sure you don’t want me to warn him?”
“Oh, no, I think the element of surprise is best. Where is his room?”
“Top of the stairs, second door on the left.” Victoria picked up her purse and car keys. “Just give me a two-minute head start. That way, he can’t fire me for not trying to stop you.” She pulled an innocent look and said, “‘I had no idea she was going up to your room, sir. I’d already left to run your errands.’”
Rylie laughed softly. “Good call.”
Victoria saluted her, and Rylie waited until she heard the front door shut before she started for the stairs. Artistic photographs and paintings adorned the white walls instead of family photos, and the second floor felt sterile and cold. She opened his bedroom door and stopped dead in her tracks.
He was naked. Buck naked, on his stomach with the sheet tangled just below his round, gorgeous ass.
Rylie hadn’t expected to find him so exposed. She almost turned tail and ran, but something caught her attention. His bare back was exposed and as the sun streaked through the gap in his black-out curtains, she saw the white crisscross scars on his skin. Her heart squeezed as she counted dozens of them.
She took an involuntary step closer and before she knew it, she was standing next to the bed, looking down at the right side of his face. The muscles were relaxed, his lashes thick, and his mouth open slightly as his breathing came out hoarse and deep.
God, he really was such a beautiful man and he had obviously suffered. No wonder he had a hard time making connections with people and could be such a giant pain in the—
“Watching someone sleep is fucking creepy, you know that, right?”
His deep voice startled her so much that she lost her balance and started backpedaling. Her heel hit a knot in the wood floor and it snapped off with a crack, sealing her fate. She toppled backward and crashed into a table in the corner before she reached the floor. The skirt of her dress had flown up, as the cool draft on her bottom proved, and she wanted to sink into the floor.
Well, I did see his rear end. Only fair he sees mine.
“Jesus, Rylie, are you all right?”
She could hear the laughter in his voice as his feet padded across the room, but she refused to look up. She had already seen enough of him.
“Yes,” she groaned. Her hip was throbbing as was her arm. When Dustin squatted down next to her and took her chin in his hand, she tried to fight back the tears as he raised her gaze to his.
“No, you aren’t.”
She squeaked as he slipped his arms around her shoulders and behind her knees and lifted her straight up from the floor.
“Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!”
“Shut up,” he said gruffly.
He carried her over to the bed and sat down with her on his lap. She tried to wiggle off, very much aware that he was naked, but he tightened his arms.
“Chill. I’m just checking to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine, really, I just—”
His fingers slipping off her broken shoe stalled her words. She gulped as he took her ankle gently and turned it in a circle.
“Does this hurt?”
She shook her head, unable to meet his gaze, she was too embarrassed. She stared at his mouth, instead.
Big mistake.
“My heel just caught something. I’m not hurt. Although I think I destroyed the table.”
“I don’t care about the table.” His hand rested on her calf and she blushed as she felt something hard poking her butt.
“I was… I was just coming to tell you that I need you to come back to work.”
“Didn’t Kelly tell you? I’ve been sick.” To emphasize his lie, he fake coughed.
Her gaze finally snapped up to his, and she scowled at the mischievous gleam in his eye. “You are not. You’re just avoiding me and it’s stupid.” With a heavy sigh, she took the leap first, and said, “I am sorry for lecturing you on how you spoke to Mrs. Needermyer. I understand how frustrating she can be. You are a grown man and I shouldn’t have overstepped.”
He tilted his head, as if considering her. “Hmm, and for hitting me?”
“I am sorry for that too. It was immature. I will try to fight the urge.”
“Then apology accepted.”
Rylie waited, and when he didn’t reciprocate, she poked him in the shoulder.
“Hey, I thought you were going to stop assaulting me!” he said.
“It was just a poke. And it’s your turn.”
He scowled. “For what?”
“For calling me a doormat and stomping out of the grocery store like a big baby.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did! You were a complete asshat. Not at all acceptable.”
Dustin’s lips twitched. “Your apology for lecturing me is slowly losing credibility.”
“Well, it was embarrassing, and to be honest, it hurt my feelings. I thought we were having fun.”
She hated how vulnerable she sounded, but it was true. She’d been feeling so stressed after Asher had shown up, and Dustin’s goofy antics had eased it. She’d started to remember why she’d initially seen something in him when he’d first began working at Something Borrowed.
But his reaction to Mrs. Needermyer and Rylie’s chastening had just confused her again. She’d been taught not to talk that way to her elders. That didn’t make her a doormat.
His thumb grazed her chin and her gaze met his.
“I was having fun, but I’m still an asshole. Nothing’s going to change that. I don’t pretend to be someone different. You can’t change or save me.”
Rylie swallowed hard at the intensity in his blue eyes. “I’m not trying to save you, but I don’t believe that’s all you are.”
At her soft admission, his nostrils flared, and he stared at her lips. “You should go.”
“But you need to come to work—”
“Right now you are sitting on my lap, you feel really good, and your mouth is too close.”
She blinked at him. “Are you saying you want to kiss me?”
His blue eyes turned nearly black and her thighs clenched in reaction to that look. Lust. Dustin wants me.
“Yes. Yes, I want to kiss you. Everywhere.”
Rylie’s heart slammed against her breastbone and she found herself tempted. Oh so very tempted.
Then she remembered the girl sneaking from his house this morning and she pushed herself off him, putting distance between her traitorous body and his.
“You are a pig. You really can’t keep it in your pants for more than a few hours?”
He leaned back on his hands with a grin, but she refused to look down. “It seems to have escaped your notice, but I’m not wearing pants.”
“Oh!” She picked up her broken shoe and limped out of his room.
The unbelievable nerve of him. Propositioning and teasing her. And she’d started to think he might be a decent guy.
“See you at work, sweetheart,” he called after her.
Rylie grit her teeth, resisting the urge to turn around and throw her broken heel at his head. She was going to have to call the realtor and find something else to rent. There was no way she could stay here anymore and not kill him.
* * * *
A half an hour later, Dustin stood in his shower, letting the hot water rain down on him as he stared at the tile floor, emotions churning in his gut.
God, he was a dick.
He really hadn’t meant to be, but when he’d first come awake to find her hovering over him, he’d been on alert. He knew she could probably see everything.
His ass. His back. The scars.
Dustin’s hand came up to finger one of the raised lines on his shoulder. They weren’t his scars; he wasn’t claiming them. They belonged to his dad.
He’d never told his mom or his brothers about them. He’d wondered if his brothers shared similar marks across their skin from the buckle of their dad’s belt, but he didn’t ask. Like the nights his mom had screamed and cried from his parent’s bedroom, it wasn’t something they talked about.
He’d refused to break for the old bastard though. There had been a couple times that he’d prayed his dad would just kill him. That was something his dad couldn’t make them cover up or hide and at least his mom would be safe.
Women didn’t ask him about the scars and if they did, they were not so politely asked to leave.
The one therapist he’d gone to had asked him why he didn’t blame his mom for the abuse, and he didn’t have an answer. His dad had never hit him when she was home. He often wondered if she knew, or if his dad had done it this way to hide it from her, knowing that Dustin wouldn’t say anything. It had started at twelve, and he’d been too old to go crying to her, especially when he knew she got it worse.
But when he was fifteen, he’d had enough. He’d shot up six inches and put on about fifty pounds of muscle over the summer. One afternoon, his dad had come after him for mouthing off, and he’d been ready.
Only he’d almost put the old bastard in the hospital he’d beat him so bad. Dustin had told him the next time he touched him or his mom, he wouldn’t get back up off the floor.
His father hadn’t had him arrested, maybe because he’d known that his dirty secrets might come to light. His father had taken off to their beach house in Mexico and when he’d come back several weeks later, Dustin had moved into the guest house. He’d spent the last three years he lived there barely speaking to his father.
If he had continued to hurt Dustin’s mom, Dustin had never seen it, so she’d either hidden it well or his dad had taken his threat to heart. Dustin didn’t talk about what happened with anyone, so when Rylie had stood over him, watching him sleep and seeing his scars, he’d been struck down with a vulnerability he’d never known. And he’d hated it. He’d felt powerless and he’d wanted his power back.
And the only way he knew how to do that was with anger, sarcasm, and sex.
But Rylie had run. He’d seen the flare of interest; she couldn’t deny that she wanted him, but she was just so damn good. Way too good for him.
He hardly remembered fucking Paula last night. She’d just been available and he’d wanted someone. Anyone.
Rylie wouldn’t be a convenient lay, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to push her skirt aside earlier and slide up into her. He could still feel the curve of her ass in his lap, the warmth of her skin coming through the fabric of her skirt.
Dustin reached down and gripped his aching cock in his hand. Her lips, so pink and lush, just a few inches from his. He’d almost done it too, but something had held him back.
Respect. He respected Rylie, even liked her. He wouldn’t touch her. Wouldn’t use her.
Think about her when he was jacking off? He could do that.
He pumped his dick several times, imagining what she looked like under the hot pink dress she’d been wearing. Was she the type of girl who wore matching bra and panties? He imagined she was.
When he finally found release, he took several deep breaths, knowing deep down that this would never be as good as the real thing.
Too bad, asshole.
This is as close as he’d ever get.