Page 16 of Betting on her Best Friend
Chapter Five
Dylan held her gaze through the three-inch gap. Part of him felt guilty for pushing the issue on her, but he couldn’t back down now. He hadn’t flown all this way and opened Pandora’s box just to leave things hanging in the balance.
“Let me in, Aly,” he said softly.
The seconds ticked by without her even so much as blinking, but finally, her hand slipped from the door, and she retreated into the room. After hanging the Do Not Disturb hanger on the outer handle, he closed and locked the door.
He dropped his bag and looked up to find her standing beside the bed, arms hugging herself and her eyes tracking him with every step he took in her direction.
It was clear she wanted to hide her arousal. Wanted to deny it even to herself. But even if her mouth said one thing, her body spoke the exact opposite. Her nipples pebbled beneath the thin material, begging to be touched, sucked. He wondered how sensitive they’d be. If even the feel of her clothes right now caused them to ache.
Reluctantly, he moved his gaze up. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. A little higher and he could see the rapid beat of her pulse at her slim throat. Full lips painted red, open just enough for air to saw in and out. Imagining them wrapped around his hard length, her cheeks hollowing as she took him deep, caused his cock to twitch behind the tight briefs. A jolt of sensation shot straight to his gut from the friction of the cotton rubbing the nerve-rich head.
She took a step back, knocking into the nightstand behind her. A box almost fell off the edge, but she caught it in time and quickly tossed it into the drawer, slamming it shut. She obviously didn’t want him to see it. He almost wished he hadn’t. The fact that she’d purchased a box of condoms brought home that she was serious about her quest to get laid by one of the cover models this weekend. Even though she’d told him as much, there’d been a small part of him holding onto the hope that she didn’t really intend on doing much more than flirting and groping.
So much for that theory.
Fisting his hands at his sides, Dylan held onto his control by a thread. He’d tasted her lips, heard the sound she made as she gave herself over to the kiss, seen her pupils wide with desire.
And now they were alone.
In her hotel room.
With nothing but her overanalytical mind and mere scraps of cloth standing between them and a night of raw passion they’d never forget.
It was the perfect storm, all the elements coming together at the right time to create a rare situation of inevitability. All it would take was one powerful wave to capsize her doubts. To drag her under to the place where the physical senses drowned out things like reason and logic.
Then it became clear what he had to do. He had to take away her ability to think, to overanalyze and worry. If he could do that, then her body would have the chance to speak up and tell her what it wanted: him.
He took a step closer, watching her almond-shaped eyes grow round. The slow, halting progression to her reminded him of when they played Red Light, Green Light as kids. Only instead of her calling out the commands, he reacted to her roller coaster of emotions. A slight release of tension meant “green light.” An increase meant “red light.”
True to her affinity for control, she’d always preferred being the traffic light. He’d never minded. It was more fun for him to see how fast he could get to her, sprinting as hard as he could every time she yelled green.
“Dylan…” Her voice held a tinge of warning as she desperately tried to keep the reins he’d always let her hold. Until now. “You said you wanted to talk.”
“I changed my mind,” he said. “I’d rather play Red Light, Green Light.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Okay, maybe not the sexiest of statements, but it could work. And considering the wary look on Alyssa’s face, she wasn’t sure what to make of it either. Good. If he kept her off-balance, he’d have the upper hand.
“You remember our old favorite game. Only the rules are slightly different now.” Dylan took another step in her direction. Her gaze darted to his feet, then back to his face. “The green light is automatic, and it stays on until you call it red.”
At last, he closed the last foot between them. Their breaths mingled and the sharp bite of alcohol-infused lemons mixed with her warm vanilla-sugar scent. It curled through his nose and saturated his lungs.
Steeling himself, he gave her the last warning he’d allow her before making good on his intentions. “But be damn sure you want me to stop before you call it. Because not only will the game stop. Everything stops. I’ll go home and pretend none of this happened.”
“Wait.” Her hands came up to rest—but not push—against his chest. Again, her body betrayed her words, furthering his resolve. Limpid pools of aqua blue stared up at him, her whispered protest as feeble as her physical one. “Just let me think—”
“You think too much, Aly,” he said. “And I’m done waiting.”
Holding her head, Dylan crushed his mouth to hers and unleashed the passion he’d stifled for so many years. Her lips yielded, but her frame remained rigid. He could almost hear the gears turning between her ears. He needed to ramp things up if he was going to get those things to take a damn break. A challenge he happily accepted.
Sliding one hand down to her ass, he loosely gripped a fistful of hair with the other. Then, without warning, he tightened both hands and pulled her in hard. When she gasped in surprise, he slanted his mouth and thrust his tongue inside to meet hers. He half expected her to rebel—to push him away and call a stop to everything—but she did just the opposite.
At last, Alyssa let herself go. Her arms snaked up around his neck, and she melted against him with a barely audible whimper. It was the sound of her ceding defeat as her brain surrendered to the wanton needs of her body.
She dropped her head back as she exhaled his name, half prayer, half plea. It slipped into his ears and sank into his memory to live there for the rest of his days. If nothing happened beyond that point, he’d at least have the sound of his name on her lips, whispered in the heat of passion.
