Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
I grin at him, stepping forward to wrap my arms around him despite how dusty and dirty he is. “It would.” I put on my best puppy-dog eyes to convince him. I could throw one regardless—it is my house after all—but it would feel wrong. This place no longer feels like it’s just mine…it feels like ours.
“Okay then,” he agrees, just like that.
“Really?”
“Whatever you want, you get, Dahlia. I thought I’d made that clear by now.”
“And if what I want is to get even messier before we go get clean?” I tease, pressing myself closer to him. This man has turned me into some insatiable creature, always craving his touch. And his cock. In my defense, it’s a really nice cock.
“You need to eat before you do anything of the sort,” Dylan scolds, but his thick girth already presses against me even as he speaks.
“I’ll order in. How does Chinese food sound?” I ask, darting away to grab my phone. I can feel his gaze on my back as I bring up the ordering app.
Dylan tells me to order whatever my favorites are, so I grab enough for us both and grin when the app tells me our food will be with us an hour from now. I turn the screen around to show him, and he raises a brow.
“Whatever shall we do while we wait?” I ask teasingly, putting on an exaggerated thinking expression.
“You are trouble,” Dylan groans, but in the next instant, I’m thrown over his shoulder, his hand gripping my ass as he takes us upstairs to the shower where we get far messier before scrubbing each other clean.
A little later, we sit in my bedroom and eat takeout from the containers, and it hits me that I have never been happier with my life than I am at this moment.
“I’m going to get ready for bed.” I yawn once we’ve tidied the food away.
“Okay.” Dylan doesn’t make any move to leave. Hope bubbles up in my chest. He’s been staying over a lot, but I know he values his space so I never want to ask or pressure him. But I also literally never want to leave his side.
“Are…are you going home?” I fidget with the hem of my t-shirt.
Dylan tilts his head. “Do you want me to?”
“Literally never,” I admit, surprised when the thought flies right out of my mouth. I have no filter when it comes to him. “But also I don’t want to force you to stay.”
Dylan leans towards me, wraps his hands around my waist, and yanks me onto his lap. I go willingly, curling against him and relishing his warmth. He’s like my very own teddy bear and heated blanket in one, though I’m sure he’d argue with my soft and fuzzy description.
“I meant what I said, petal,” he says gruffly, “about not letting you go. If it’s up to me, you won’t spend a second of the day without me by your side. So no, I’m not going home. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here, even if you do steal all the blankets in your sleep.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I do not!”
“You absolutely do,” he argues, smirking beneath his beard. “And we need to get a proper bed. That mattress is going to break both our bloody backs.”
I grin up at him. He’s right. We do need a bed, but it’s the way he says it—as though the bed would be ours not just mine—that fills me with giddy warmth.
“I found the perfect single bed online—” I start, teasing him because it’s my new favorite hobby. I don’t get very far because I end up on the mattress he was just complaining about, with a glowering grizzly bear hovering over me.
“Such a brat.”
“You love it,” I tease.
Dylan blinks at me, the exasperation on his face from my bratty attitude smoothing out a little. When he speaks, his voice is low and warm.
“Yeah, petal. I really do.”
11
DAHLIA
A loud banging on the door wakes me up.
I shoot up in bed, tangled in covers and Dylan’s arms, my heartbeat racing. Dylan pushes himself up as another knock echoes through the house.
“Who the hell is here so early?” I groan, rubbing my eyes.
Dylan stands and quickly throws on a pair of sweatpants, chuckling. “It’s eleven in the morning, petal.”
Oops. “Oh,” I laugh, freeing myself of the rest of the blankets and rushing to tug on a hoodie over my pajamas. I’m pulling fluffy socks onto my feet when Dylan opens the bedroom door, shirtless and barefoot because apparently this man doesn’t feel the cold.
“There’s no one scheduled to come out today. I’ll go see who it is and tell them to fuck off.”
The comment is so typically Dylan that I burst into laughter, fumbling with my socks as I hurry to catch up with him.