Page 22 of Wild Obsession
Chapter Eight
Chantel
Dylan settledme over his solid body and I melted into him, still buzzing from the high of two orgasms.
Crisse d’ostie.Two.When was the last time a man had managed to give me even one?
Forever ago, it seemed.Even then it had taken a lot more time and effort—most of it mine.
The men I’d been with had all treated sex like it was a transaction planned solely for them.I was just there to facilitate.A prop in someone else’s experience.
Dylan had made me the focus of every single second.
I wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.The warmth of it sat in a place I wasn’t used to letting anyone reach, and part of me wanted to brush it off the way I would have with anyone else.Chalk it up to chemistry, file it under fun, and move on.
But I couldn’t.My body was still humming with the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way he’d read me like he already knew what I needed.He was already under my skin and wasn’t leaving.
My backside was still stinging, the imprint of his hand like a brand on my skin, but it didn’t detract from the peace washing over me.If anything, it deepened it.
“I’ll return the favor,” I promised against his chest.“Just give me some time to recover.”
“No.”His hand stroked down my back, sending a fresh shock of tingles across my skin.“That was perfect.I got off on your pleasure.”
His warm brown eyes were full of something more than lust.Something almost reverent.
Merde.That was dangerous territory for a man whose deepest connection to me was how easily he made me come.
“The bulge in your pants says otherwise.”I smiled, forcing lightness into my tone.
“Trust me.Having you come on my face was very rewarding.”
“Dylan—”
“Chantel.”The way he said my name left no room for argument.“Who’s in charge here?”
“You.”The word was a whisper.A confession I wasn’t ready to make.
The look he gave me said he already knew.It was satisfaction and restraint in equal measure.He was perfectly content to deny himself if it meant staying in control.
I settled back against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and letting the moment fall into contentment.
The hardwood floor was cool against my shins, the kitchen bright but quiet around us.I took a slow breath, Dylan’s cologne mixing with the clean chemical scent of Jamie’s floors.
A chill settled over me.
We were in Jamie and Eric’s house, with its photographs and its small domestic details, where they planned to build a life together.Every inch of it a reminder of the life Dylan had wanted for himself.
Fuck, maybe he still did.
“Are you thinking about her?”I kept my voice easy, no edge to it.
He shifted under me, swiping a hand over his face.“Not when my mouth was on you.But now…yeah.Fuck, I’m a bastard.”
“Yes, you are.”I settled my chin back on his chest, my voice softening around a smile.“But you’re a dirty bastard.So that makes you the good kind.”
“That’s a generous interpretation.”
“It’s an accurate one.”I pushed upright, my soaked core pressing over his erection.“You didn’t do anything wrong, Dylan.Neither did I.”
