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  I speed up in response, making my way through the ornate, classically-decorated hotel lobby. The main entrance to the hotel is blocked off with rows of folding tables with name-tags on them, and behind the tables are older, glamorous women sitting with clipboards.

  What the fuck? It’s like I’ve been teleported into some bizarro land where I certainly don’t belong, surrounded by fake nails and fake tans and pretty gowns that I’ll never wear.

  I spot a slightly-ajar door off to the side of the lobby and book it over there, crashing through the door with a push of the metal bar across it, and I tumble into a big convention space that looks like it’s set up for a banquet.

  “Mandy, you can’t go any farther,” I hear Dylan say behind me. I weave between waiters setting up tables with place settings and big floral centerpieces, spotting an emergency exit across the room that’s propped open with a stack of folding chairs and rushing over to it.

  I step outside onto the boardwalk behind the hotel and I’m hit with the full force of hot, heavy, torrential rain.

  “Fucking shit!” I say under my breath as I struggle to disentangle my cardigan from my arms, my arms from the strap of my purse, and somehow, the straps of my purse from the now-freed arms of my cardigan.

  “It’s okay, Mandy,” I hear Dylan say as he comes up next to me. I feel him untie his black denim jacket from low on his hips and place it over my head, shielding me from the rain. It feels good to have him over me, protecting me, but my heart is pounding in my ears and my mind is spinning with confusion. “It’s okay,” he repeats soothingly.

  “I can’t believe you read my texts, and made that awful accusation to me,” I say, looking up at him, “and I can’t believe you have the audacity to stand so close to me right now.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, “but I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “The worst part is not the texts. That’s bullshit compared to the fact that you thought I lied to you.”

  That’s what hurts the most, and now, suddenly, I understand the question he asked me a few days ago on our way to the beach. The idea that he would think I’d lie to him about having a boyfriend, or a fiancé, or whatever the hell he assumed my status was back then. I’d told him I wasn’t the bride-to-be. That should have made it absolutely clear that I was single. I shouldn’t have had to spell it out.

  But he isn’t running away from me. He isn’t telling me to get the hell away from him. Despite my protestations and the fact that I literally ran away from him, he’s protecting me from the rain.

  A small smile stretches across his face and he pushes his rain-soaked hair off of his forehead.

  “What are you smiling at?” I say, positively incredulous that he would think any part of this is funny.

  “Let’s get you inside and nice and dry. And we’ll talk. We’ll get everything out in the open.”

  Dylan secures his jacket over my head, making sure it’s in place.

  “Do you want to get under here too?” I ask, softening to him a little. I look up at him, then down at the ground beneath us, where fat, hot raindrops are bouncing off the boardwalk, then back up. His hair is matted to his face and the rain is dripping off of him, and looks like a guy from a mid-90s boy band video.

  “Nah,” he says with a smirk and a wink, “I’m already soaked. It’s not like I can get more wet than I already am. Once you’re wet, you’re wet.”

  He puts his arm around me and holds me tight.

  I can’t believe all this time was wasted over something so silly - or maybe it wasn’t silly. Maybe his pride got in the way. Maybe it was his ego.

  Or maybe he saw the evidence that was right in front of his face and really thought he was doing the right thing.

  And maybe now it’s my turn to do the right thing.

  But I look up at him, and the pain of the last two years is flowing through my veins like a shot of cheap tequila.

  And it’s sickening.

  “I’m sorry, Dylan,” my voice cracks, sending a nervous chill down my spine, “I just need some time to think. I’m sorry.”

  I push away from him and start down the boardwalk.

  I just need to think. To mull. To ruminate. To figure this whole situation out. I feel my chest quiver and my eyes grow hot with the salty beginnings of thick tears. They start to flow down my cheeks, but it’s raining so damn hard that I don’t know where my tears begin and the raindrops end.

  I can’t help but be angry with him for what he did. For what he put me through. For what he put us though - and not just me and Jacob. What he put me, Jacob and himself through.

  I don’t bother wiping my tears away. Instead, I shove my hands in the pockets of my dress and walk away from him. I walk away from the man who broke my heart and gave me a baby all during the same weekend. A weekend I wasn’t even supposed to be at.

  A weekend that changed the course of my life forever.

  The boardwalk feels a fucking mile long. I feel like I am walking toward the end of a plank on a pirate ship, sentenced to jump into shark-infested waters with my hands tied behind my back and my feet bound together - unable to swim away from the danger right below the surface of the water I’m about to plunge down into.

  And all I can hear is the rain pounding down around me. It’s drowning out my sobs. It’s keeping me focused on the task at hand - getting the fuck out of here.

  But I start to hear something else. It’s Dylan - just as sure as his voice sounded coming through the phone at my office, and just as unexpected.

  “Don’t you dare do this, Mandy,” he says, marching up next to me.

  I feel him grab me by the wrist and spin me around. He takes me by the shoulders with his strong hands, making a cage between us. Part of me wants to sink down at his feet and give myself over to him. But part of me wants to keep running away.

  His clear blue eyes pierce into mine, his chest towering over me, his t-shirt completely soaked through, leaving nothing beneath it to the imagination.

  “I’m not doing anything,” I sob, my voice cracking in the wet air between us like a lightning bolt, “I’m just doing what you did to me.”

  “Stop,” he says, taking my face in his hands, “just stop this right fucking now and you listen to me.”

  I swallow thickly and bite my bottom lip. He could just let me go. He could just allow me to walk away from him.

  Or he could fight for me.

  I feel myself soften at his words, my cheek falling against his hands as my eyes close, the lids heavy and soaked with tears and rainwater.

  “You listen, Mandy. You’re not walking away from me. I won’t allow it.”

  “Says who?” I ask, looking up at him, choking on my words, “you’re not the boss of me. You don’t tell me what to do.”

  “I don’t?” he says, his words tempting me toward him, “then tell me to fuck off when I try to kiss you.”

  My heart flutters deep inside my chest as he brushes his thumb across my chin, then crushes his lips to mine. I feel myself losing control in his kiss, becoming relaxed and so damn tuned on all at the same time, that giddiness of our first night together flooding through my veins again, touching every single inch of my insides.

  His lips play against mine softly. He curls his arm around my back and pulls me into him.

  And I’m lost in him. Everything comes into sharp focus, even though I’m lost.

  “I still need to talk to you,” I say. I feel like my heart is splitting in two. “I still have to tell you a few things.”

  “You’re gonna talk to me. You’re gonna tell me everything,” he replies, “but first, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  18

  Dylan

  Right now, do I give a shit what she has to say to me? Yeah, I do. I need her to tell me what’s on her mind.

  But right now, it has to wait.

  She looks like goddamn perfection even in the rain. Her long brown hair is damp and tangled and matted to her shoulders, and I want to get he
r safe and dry inside my apartment. But I can’t help myself right now. I am as hard as a fucking rock, and as I pull her closer to me slowly, her fingers come up to my chest instinctively, like she was fucking made to touch me, like she’s been practicing by touching herself.

  Mandy presses her body against me and nearly melts into me when I press my lips to hers again. She is honeyed and bright and sweet, and the rain falling around us hits the ground, sending hot steam up around us when the big, sweaty raindrops splatter and splash at our feet.

  “You are just so fucking sexy and beautiful and perfect,” I growl, pressing myself into her. I know she can feel my hardness against her when she pulls away from me slightly to look into my eyes.

  There’s a storm in there. There’s a storm swirling inside her eyes. And it’s beautiful.

  She throws her arms around my shoulders and kisses me hard, our lips crushing together. I am impossibly hard right now, and I just want her to wrap her curvy, shapely bare legs around my hips so I can pull her panties to the side and fuck her right here.

  “Let’s go,” I whisper, taking her hand. We run the short way to my shop, dodging puddles and sometimes missing, making the water splash up on us. It’s like the rain isn’t coming down on us; instead, it’s swirling around us, coming at us from every direction, pummeling us from all sides.

  It’s like we’re swimming.

  We finally make it to the shop and duck under the awning. Once I’ve lifted the heavy security gate, we rush inside and up to my apartment over my studio.

  I recently read an interesting fact - that when you walk through a doorway, you’re likely to forget why you came into the room. I think it has something to do with our survival as a species. Something to do with being in the moment. Not giving into prey. Looking forward. Looking ahead.

  As we walk inside, I turn to look back at Mandy.

  “I remember this place,” she says, putting her arms around herself with a shiver and stepping to the window, “I remember this view, too.”

  I take her damp cardigan off her shoulders and go over to the closet at the far wall of the small apartment, opening it up to put the cardigan, along with my soaked t-shirt, in my mini dryer.

  As I’m adding time to the dryer, I feel something wet on my shoulder. I look over and see a pair of wet black panties draped there.

  Turning around slowly with a smile plastered on my face, I take the panties off my shoulder.

  Mandy is standing in front of me, completely naked, her creamy white skin still wet and glistening in the moonlight. Every single curve is accentuated perfectly in the shadows; the dip in her tiny waist, the flaring of her full hips, the swell of her perfect, perky breasts. Her pussy is shaved bare, and her entire body has changed in a way I don’t understand, but in a way that has made her even more irresistible than she was before. Her hair is falling down her chest, and she’s breathing heavily, expectantly.

  I breathe in deeply, taking in the fucking perfect sight in front of me.

  “I thought you said you wanted to talk,” I say, taking a step toward her.

  “I do,” she says, “but I also wanted to get out of those wet clothes.”

  I look at the tiny black lace panties in my hand. The rest of her clothing is in a heap around her feet. The little flowy black dress and her black lace bra.

  “You want me to do most of the talking right now,” I ask, “don’t you?”

  She nods and purses her lips together, smiling with her whole pretty heart-shaped face.

  “Turn around, princess,” I say softly, sternly.

  She complies, walking in a small circle so her back is to me. Her ass is like a ripe peach that I want to lick the juice off of. I step up behind her and take her hands, drawing them up behind her back.

  “Oh Mandy, I’ve missed you,” I whisper into her ear. I take the black panties and stretch them out into a thin strap, then tie them loosely around her wrists.

  “Oh god,” she moans, her head falling back against my chest.

  “Turn around again,” I breathe, “and get on your knees.”

  She does as I say, turning around to face me, then sinking down to her knees compliantly. She looks so fucking sweet and sexy getting down there, and I watch as she licks her lips when she sees the outline of my hard cock through my pants.

  My hands go down to where her eyes are trained, undoing my belt and my pants slowly, making her wait for it like it’s her birthday present that she just can’t wait to get her eyes on.

  “Are you starting to remember what it’s like to be with me, Mandy?”

  “Yes,” she breathes, biting her bottom lip. I push my pants down slowly, putting on a show for her because I know she fucking likes it. She likes watching the way my muscles move and flex when I take my clothes off for her.

  “You better remember,” I say, “and if you have any trouble, I’ll help refresh your memory.”

  I take another step toward her after slipping my sandals and jeans off, and put my fingers at the top of my shorts. I don’t pull them down, though, not right away. Even though I can feel the tip of my cock beading with hot precum for her, and even though I can’t wait to get inside her pussy, I want to make her beg for it. I want to make her work for it. I want to make her cum before she even has a chance to look at my thick, full cock.

  “How are you going to help me remember?” she asks in a small voice, her eyes peering up at me.

  “Get up and go over to the bed,” I say.

  She stands, turns, and swings her hips as she walks away from me.

  “Sit,” I say, nodding toward the edge of the bed, “sit down.”

  She lowers herself sweetly, never taking her eyes off mine. I walk over and pick her up by her hips, pushing her ass back on the bed, then caressing her curves until I find her breasts with my big, rough hands. I push her back gently and pinch her nipples, making a moan come from between her plump lips. I know that’s the moan she makes when her pussy is dripping wet.

  I press my fingers between her breasts and push her down so she’s lying on the bed, but her back is arched where her hands are bound behind her back. I reach behind her as I take one of her nipples into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue, and untie her wrists.

  “Put your hands over your head,” I say. Her eyes open wider as she slowly puts her hands up, and I grab her by her wrists, dragging her gently up the bed, where I loop her panties through one of the wooden slats on my headboard, tying her hands in place.

  “Dylan,” she breathes wantonly as I put my hand gently between her legs just to feel how wet she is. She is dripping, and her bare pussy is so fucking hot for me.

  “You’re wet,” I say, taking my fingers away from her pussy and putting them into my mouth, sucking her sweet nectar off my two fingers. I lean down to kiss her, feeling her tongue as it runs against mine, tasting herself on my mouth. I slide my hand down the front of her body again and run my fingers along the sides of her clit, stopping before I allow them to enter her.

  “Dylan,” she says, biting her bottom lip, her brows knitting together in the center. As I lean in to kiss her again, I slip two fingers inside her and her head falls backward. “Oh, fuck.”

  I curl my fingers up and find her wet clit with my thumb, tracing circles against it as I press the pads of my fingers against the flesh inside her. I feel her pussy flutter against my fingers as I drag them in and out, circling her clit as she cums on my hand.

  “Fuck, Dylan!” she cries out. I feel her cumming so fucking hard, her hips rolling and bucking against my fingers.

  “If I didn’t need to taste you, I’d slip my cock inside right now,” I growl into her ear as she moans.

  “Oh my god, please Dylan,” she moans, begging me, “fuck me right now. Please. Remind me what it’s like to have you inside me.”

  “Not yet, princess,” I say, kissing her cheek, “not yet.”

  19

  Amanda

  I’m so damn hot and turned on for him that I came
in what felt like just seconds.

  His touch is like fucking magic - velvet and warm and wet, and I know this is just the start of it.

  “Please,” I beg. I feel like someone’s taken over my body as I plead with him, but the reason I know it’s me is because I’ve fantasized about this so many times.

  “Not yet,” he says, pulling his fingers out of my pussy. I feel their sweet absence as I close up where he should be, but I am quickly distracted by his hands first untying my wrists, then caressing my curves, starting at the sides of my breasts, where he drags his fingertips under their swell, down to my tummy, past my hips, and finally scoops me up by the ass, pulling me to the edge of the bed and kneeling down between my legs.

  Damn.

  Every motion feels so fluid and perfect, and I feel myself lost in him.

  Lost.

  That’s what I’ve been trying to be. I’ve been trying to be lost for so long - to escape. Everything I knew was blown up and twisted around and flipped upside down. Dylan did that to me, he did that to my life, and he gave me the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.

  And now that he’s back in my life? Now I feel found - and it feels even better than being lost.

  But for right now, I can think of nothing better than getting lost in him over and over.

  “Come here,” Dylan says as my ass inches toward the edge of the bed. It hangs off a little, and he wraps both of those big arms around my thighs, throwing my knees over his shoulders.

  I didn’t know arms could be so sexy before I met him. I didn’t know what they were capable of.

  “I thought of this,” Dylan growls, his face between my thighs. He nudges my legs apart a little more, hitting the inside of my thigh with his chin, “and I remember how you taste, girl.”

  I watch as he licks me in one big, long stroke, but I can’t watch for long. I let out a long moan to match the motion of his tongue, and my head is suddenly on the bed, and my eyes are closed, and my legs are wrapping around his head.