Dragonfly Kisses (14 page)

His breath caught in his throat as he remembered.

Even if he didn’t carry the gene, she still could.

And even one of them was enough.

Cassie knew better than to pout, but she couldn’t help herself. She went out on the balcony of her little apartment with a “partial water view” and sat at the glass table and stared out at the city lights and pouted.

Just when she’d thought everything with Dylan was going great, he’d gone all moody again and bolted from the restaurant. She understood his flare of panic. For someone like him, someone who could never take a chance of conceiving a child, forgetting to use a condom could be a disaster. However, running away solved nothing.

She wished he’d stayed.

They could have talked it through.

But there was more to it than that. Before he’d had his realization, she’d given him her number, but he hadn’t reciprocated.

Did that mean anything?

It probably did.

It probably meant he didn’t want her calling him.

It probably meant he didn’t feel the same way—as crazy for her as she was for him.

Tears welled and she dashed them away. It was bad enough to agonize over every word she’d said to him tonight. What made things even worse was she couldn’t do the one thing that usually distracted her, soothed her. Because she’d left her cello at the clinic.

The soft knock at the door surprised her. She glanced at her watch. It was past ten. Far too late for Mother to visit. She padded to the foyer and went up on her tiptoes to peer through the peephole. Her heart lurched.

It was Dylan. Distorted through the fisheye, but definitely Dylan.

She wrenched the door open.

He looked like hell, with his short hair up in spikes as if he’d been mangling it. His shirt was rumpled, and his eyes were red.

“Come in.” She didn’t bother to dwell on the stupidity of the invitation. As much as a part of her screeched he wasn’t good for her—that he could wound her deeply just by walking out of her life—another part of her couldn’t stand the thought of turning him away.

He dipped his head and stepped over the threshold. “Cassie.” His voice was a low rumble. “We need to talk.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Conversations beginning with “We need to talk” rarely ended well. She steeled her spine. This was the new Cassie. The woman who grabbed what she wanted with both hands and hung on tight. “O-okay. Would you…like some tea? I was just going to make some.” A lie, but forgivable. She suddenly needed some tea. Or something. Something to busy her hands.

“All right.”

She headed into the kitchenette to put the water on, watching him as he looked around her living room. She was rarely home, so she hadn’t bothered to decorate much. There was very little of her here. Very little of her anywhere.

That would change. She was the captain of her ship. She was remaking her life.

He stilled when his gaze landed on the little dragonfly statue on the mantle. The only thing in the room, really, that said anything about her.

He shot a glance at her, his eyes wounded. Shadowed.

“Are you all right?” she asked. The tenseness in his form concerned her.

“No.”

Ah. At least one of them was being honest. She finished preparing the pot and crossed to the dinette, gesturing for him to sit.

“I…um…” He ran his fingers through his hair, confirming her supposition he’d been mangling it for a while. “I felt you needed an explanation for…for earlier.”

“Okay.” She folded her hands before her and willed herself to be still. To listen. She willed the howling in the deep reaches of her soul to shut the fuck up. He deserved her attention.

But she knew. She knew he was ending it.

“I…I don’t know how to say this, Cassie.”

She cleared her throat. “Just say it Dylan.” A soft simmer, the sound of the kettle warming up, filled the silence.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Ah. Yes.

The howling rose. And with it, a pain unlike anything she’d ever known.

“Okay.” How she said it, like that, dispassionate and serene, was a mystery. She wanted to snarl and wail and howl at the moon.

“I’ve never lost control like that. Never forgotten to use protection…”

She nodded and stood, making her way like a zombie back into the kitchen, to pretend to finish the tea. The water wasn’t even ready yet, but she couldn’t bear to sit still and hear this. “I understand.” She didn’t. Not really. If he was worried about preventing pregnancy, there were other options. Then again, maybe pregnancy wasn’t the issue at all. Maybe it was
her
. She flicked a look at him. Hated that he wouldn’t make eye contact.

He was ending it. This wonderful, amazing,
miraculous
thing. And for what? She wanted to chuck the kettle at him. He was so aggravating. Instead she poured the steaming water into the teapot and went back to his side, but she didn’t sit. She couldn’t bear to.

She launched into her plea, with little hope it would make any difference. He was far too rigid, the lines on his face too firm with resolve. “If you don’t want to see me anymore, because you don’t feel it, that’s one thing—”

He gaped at her. “If I don’t feel it?” he said through a growl. “I feel… I feel…” He put his palm over his heart, as though he could massage away the pain. “I feel it.” Her heart lifted at the intensity, the hunger in his eyes. “I want… I want…”

“What?”

“Everything.” He spat the word as if it tasted bitter. “With you.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The goddamn Remlinger gene.” He bounded to his feet and paced the small room. “They have a test, but if we stay together…” Hope swelled at his words. “If we stay together and even one of us has that gene, we can never have children. I mean…if it ever goes that far. We would have to take precautions. Every time. Every fucking time. I can never, ever do again what I did tonight. Never slip.”

She nodded. “I understand.” She did. She’d seen what Mark’s disease had done to her parents, to her family. It was devastating. No one would want to go through that, certainly not more than once. “There are two forces in the world, Dylan. Love and fear. Which one are you going to let run your life?”

“It’s not that simple, Cassie.”

“It is. It is. No matter who you’re with, no matter what decisions you make, things can happen. Things that are out of your control. You can live every day worrying about that—or not live at all—or you can take a deep breath and dive in. Have faith. In God, the Universe, each other. I like spending time with you, Dylan. L-love spending time with you. And I thought… I hoped you felt the same about me.”

He winced. “I do.”

“When two people feel this way, when they are lucky enough to find—” She hated that her voice broke but barreled on, because the words had to be said. “When two people find something like this, they figure out a way to make it work. They fight like hell to keep it.” She meant to stroke the dragon on his shoulder, but ended up smacking it instead. “They breathe fire to keep it, Dylan. They don’t shrug and walk away, not even when it gets scary.”

He put out a lip. “I’m not scared.”

“Aren’t you?”

He opened his mouth to respond and shut it again. “Okay. I am. I’m scared to death.” The way he said it, all soft and wobbly, nearly broke her heart.

“I’m scared too. But I’d rather be scared with you than all alone. And I’d rather have love drive my decisions than fear. Which do you choose?” He said nothing for a long moment. He opened his mouth, but then snapped it shut. His reticence made her chest hurt. “As long as we’re together, everything else is fixable. You…do
want
to stay together?”

“God, yes.” He yanked her into his arms.

She collapsed against him with relief. He was so warm. So dear. He smelled like heaven.

But he wanted to be with her. He wasn’t ending it.

That was the only thing that mattered.

The only thing at all.

“We’ll work it out. Somehow. We’ll work it out.” She peeped up at him through her lashes, unsure of how to say this without sounding too forward. “You know, Dylan, couples can adopt. If they want children.” She blushed. “I mean…if it goes that far.”

He stilled and fixed his gaze on her. “You would do that? Adopt?”

She went up on her toes to kiss him. “Yes. Of course. Adoption is a wonderful option. And there are so many babies out there who need a good home.” She loved the way he relaxed, leaned into her, smiled. Joy sang in her heart. “I was adopted.” Plucked from an orphanage in China and welcomed into a wonderful, loving home filled with wonderful, loving people. Who only wanted the best for her. No matter how naggy they got. “It would be like paying it forward.”

His jaw dropped. “You-you were
adopted
?”

“Both Merilee and I.”

“
You
were adopted?” Why that made him laugh like a loon and spin her in a little pirouette, she had no clue. But she didn’t care. Because she ended up in his arms, warm against him, and he was holding her and happy. And things felt right again.

She kissed the underside of his chin. “So of course I would consider it as an option. I mean, if this thing between us ever goes that far. And I’m not making any promises.” She grinned up at him. “You are a surly shock jock, after all. I doubt my parents will approve.”

As though what her parents wanted would make any difference now. Nothing would keep her from this man. Nothing.

A red tide rose on his neck. “Aw shit. You know about my job?”

“Apparently you’re pretty famous. For a juvenile douche bag with a potty mouth and a puerile sense of humor.”

He grimaced. “You’ve been reading the
What’s Hot, What’s Not Blog
.”

She chuckled and nestled closer and was gratified to feel a stirring against her belly. “Lucy’s been reading it. She gave me a book report on you.”

“Actually…I’ve been thinking about changing jobs. A guy can’t be a juvenile douche bag forever.”

“What would you do?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, held her tighter. “There’s an opening for a DJ at the classical station. Or maybe I could produce CDs.”

“CDs?” She wrinkled her brow.

“There’s this artist I know who’s thinking about putting out an album.”

“Oh really?”

“Original pieces. For the cello.” He kissed her. She let him. “I’ve already thought of the perfect title.”

“Hmm. And what would that be?” He kissed her again, this time for a long, slow sweet eternity.

She put her palm to his cheek, reveling in the scruff of his beard. She loved him, this gruff, untidy man. She loved him so much.

And she wanted to be with him, no matter what the future held.

At long last, he raised his head and smiled down at her and her heart fluttered. “Why ‘Dragonfly Kisses’ of course,” he said. “I can’t think of anything better.”

“Neither can I,” she murmured. “Neither can I.”

Next Up:

Smoking Holt by Sabrina York

A Tryst Island Erotic Romance

Bella Cross has had a thing for Holt Lamm since college, but his scorching dominant energy scares her to death. And his list of conquests annoys her. But when Holt catches her smoking, and offers her something else to fixate on—if only for a night—she simply cannot resist.

An Excerpt from Smoking Holt

“One would think you would know a little more about the lifestyle, considering the clientele you serve.”

Bella’s frown became a glower. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve been to your shop. I’ve seen your ‘BDSM section’.”

“Why do you say it like that?” With air quotes?

“It’s hardly comprehensive.”

Her lips flapped. “It’s perfectly comprehensive.”

But he just snorted. “At any rate, it’s pretty clear you don’t understand a thing about the life, if you think it’s about a man bullying a woman. In fact, the Dom is not the one in control,” he said. “Not in a truly healthy D/s relationship. The sub calls the shots. Draws the lines. It’s a partnership, Bella, but the sub controls everything.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “That is hard to believe.”

“I’d be happy to give you a demonstration.” The way he said it, with that quirk of his dark brow, the glint in his eyes, sent a sizzle of annoyance—and something else—through her.

“Fuck you, Holt.”

He grinned. “Okay.”

Goddamn it. She wasn’t sure which annoyed her more. His simmering sensuality or his goddamn teasing. Both were nearly irresistible. She hated that her lips tweaked in a smile. He would take a smile as encouragement, she was certain of it.

Sure enough, he took that last, lethal step and yanked her into his arms, sealing them together. He was hot, hard, huge. She tipped up her chin and glared at him, opened her mouth to say something else, something pithy and snarly. Something that would drive him away and give her room to fucking breathe—

But he didn’t give her time. No time to think of something pithy. No time to prepare. No time to shore up her defenses.

His mouth took hers. There was no other way to describe it. He covered her, smothered her, soaked her with his taste and his scent, suffused her with sensation. The rub of his lips over hers, the nibbles, the nips, the bold forays of his tongue, all scrambled her brain. His hands cupped her ass, rubbing her against his body, dragging her groin over his. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was aware that he was guiding her, moving her, walking her backwards in a relentless drive to crawl inside her.

And then she hit the wall.

Literally.

He backed her up against the wood paneling of the great room and pressed against her, hard. His cock was like a stone. A fat, throbbing stone. Almost painful against the tender flesh of her belly.

A flash of pure, unadulterated lust snarled through her. Because he was hard. For her.

Oh sure, he’d probably be hard if he was mouth fucking Kristi here against the wood paneling. Or Emily. Or Lucy. Or Lassie.