Page 72 of Playing the Backbeat

“This is pointless. We cannot possibly have a serious conversation about anything.”

“I might use humor to deflect, but it’s not the same,” he says defensively.

“Then tell me how it’s different.”

“I-I don’t…”

“Uh-huh. Exactly my fucking point.”

Enough. I’m fucking out of here. I need to cool off, shake off every dumb thing Dylan just said, and get back to the dance floor before the girls catch wind of this.

Just as I’m about to storm off, Dylan beats me to it, rising from the table and taking large, hurried steps toward the glowing Exit sign over a hallway at the back of the reception hall. My ankles continue to scream at me with every step as I follow after him.

Chapter thirty-two

Dylan

Her heels clatter on the tile as she follows me down the hall.

“Dylan. Dylan, will you slow down? What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re the one who made this into an argument.”

“Not now, Dee,” I growl, sliding my hand over my face. “I need air, and I didn’t ask for an assist.”

“Well, when you storm out likethat,I can’t exactlynotfollow you. I don’t understand what happened.”

“No,” I mutter, slamming the door open before walking along the side of the brick building, running my hands through my hair. “Idon’t understand.” My eyes meet hers as I pull to a stop, facing her. She nearly runs into me, her hands instinctively shooting up, pressing hard against my chest to keep from toppling into me. I grab her wrists and twist us, lifting her arms next to her head, backed against the building.

Her eyes search mine, her breath warm against my neck. “I. Don’t. Understand,” I murmur, leaning into the crook of her neck, breathing her in. “I don’t understand how we’ve beenfriends for years. I don’t understand how I’m expected to watch you date other people. I don’t understand what you’re doing to me. I can’t stop my eyes from finding you in a room. I can’t stop wanting to pull you close and have you dance withme. I can’t stop wanting you all to myself.”

Her mouth drops open, then fire explodes behind her eyes. The fire she’s been missing since the moment she admitted she’d been laid off.

I can’t look away. She’s fucking radiant.

“Then don’t stop,” she says, eyeing my lips.

“You don’t mean that,” I rasp, lowering my head until our lips are a whisper apart.

“Since when do I not say what I mean?” All defiance and attitude, andfuck, it has my dick hard.

“Dee—”

“No. I don’t want you to rein it in. I don’t want you to hold onto that control you love so much.” That half-lidded gaze tilts my world sideways as she says, voice full of lust, “I want you to lose it. Let go, just for me.”

I can’t move. My body is frozen as my mind desperately claws to maintain that sense of control, slipping further away with every second my body is pressed against hers. My thoughts race through the options before me, but intuition takes over, superseding every logical thought.

“I swear to God, Dylan. If you don’t kiss me—”

Her lips. Her goddamnperfectlips. I take them before she has a chance to goad me for a second more. I need my lips on hers for the rest of my life.

My head swims. My cock aches. I press myself closer to her and she gasps. Her tongue presses against my mouth and slides in, tangling with mine in a battle for dominance. The push and pull feels likeus,and I release her hands so I can feel all of her.

Her nails dig into my shoulders before they rake down my arms. Then she fists one in my hair, digging into the roots while the other loosens the tie holding it in place at the nape of my neck.

She shifts, trying to climb closer even though our bodies are already glued together. She arches away from the wall, her warm center grinding over my dick as I groan into her mouth.

“Fuck, Deanna. What are we doing?” My voice is like gravel, and I hate myself immediately for saying anything at all.

“Well, we were kissing. Now we’re talking.”