Dragonfly Kisses (5 page)

Because it was there, in her eyes.

The look he’d been longing to see.

Chapter Five

Cassie grabbed a couple of sodas from the fridge and carried the plates to the table, not daring to so much as glance at Dylan. Her heart pounded a million miles a minute and her heat was up.

Heavens. He
liked
her.

She was his type.

It was astonishing. Exciting. Scary.

Because she liked him too. Really liked him.

He followed her to the table and sat across from her, gazing at the sandwich she’d made with a hungry gleam in his eye. She wasn’t altogether sure that gleam was for the bacon. “Yum,” he said, picking it up and taking a bite. The toast crunched as he chewed. “Perfect,” he murmured through a mouthful. “Perfect.”

“I’m glad you like it.” She took a bite as well and moaned. Lordy, she’d missed bacon this weekend. Not that she ate it every day—it was knowing she
couldn’t
have it that killed her.

“I like crispy bacon.”

“I know. I don’t understand people who cook it all limp.”

“Right? Those people should be shunned.”

Cassie laughed. “I’m pretty sure they are.”

They finished eating, chatting about bacon and bacon recipes and bacon in general, utterly avoiding the thread of conversation from before. It was as though he sensed her nervousness and was determinedly trying to set her at ease.

Dylan was wickedly funny. Cassie didn’t remember ever laughing so much over a sandwich with a man. Or ever.

She liked guys who made her laugh. It was one of the most important qualities in a person, she thought. A sense of humor.

Life could be hard, and when things got really dark, it was nice to have someone around to help you lighten up.

But when they finished eating, and bantering, a crackling silence fell. Cassie licked her finger and blotted up her crumbs. “Well…” she said. “I should probably be going.” She moved to stand.

“Don’t.” One word, sharp, with a tinge of panic, froze her in place. “Please stay. I’ve…enjoyed talking to you.”

She forced a smile. “Lucy will be worried.”

“About me?”

“About
me
. Poaching. We have rules about poaching, you see.”

“Poaching only counts on things you own. Lucy doesn’t own me.”

Cassie cleared her throat. “She wants to. And she has dibs.”

He snorted. “Sounds like third grade. And, by the way, I thought Bella had dibs.”

“They’re dueling over you.”

His expression sobered, became intent. “Do I get a say in this?”

She tipped her head to the side. “Have you met them? They can be rather…adamant.”

“So can I. When I want something.”

Her heart flipped. “You, ah, want something?”

“You know I do.”

Holy heaven. His gaze was steamy. It left no doubt about exactly what he wanted. But she had to ask. “W-what?”

He stood, balancing on one foot. “Come here.”

The thread of command, of yearning, in his tone snared her. She couldn’t ignore it. She rounded the table and looked up at him. This close, he was even more mesmerizing. And he smelled…he smelled delicious. His cologne teased her nostrils. Musky and woodsy and manly.

She stilled as he threaded his fingers through her hair and cupped her cheeks. And then his head descended.

His lips brushed hers. Nothing more than a soft, sweet buss, but it held a skein of promise, a hint of hunger and a tinge of desperation.

At her moan, he deepened the kiss, opening his mouth, pressing against her, consuming her. His taste, his essence, flooded her. Desire, wild and reckless, lashed her. Unbidden, a moan rose in her throat. He took it, swallowed it, gave it back.

He pulled her closer, flush against him. His body was hard and hot. Demanding. A trill of excitement rippled through her as she nudged the thick wedge of his erection.

Oh, she shouldn’t be doing this, kissing, consuming a man she barely knew like a lust-crazed wanton, but she couldn’t stop. And she kind of was. A lust-crazed wanton.

Something about this man, his scent, his taste, his essence, curled around her sanity, her core, and sank in with needy claws. She’d kissed a lot of men in her life. But never a kiss like this.

He slanted his lips and took her from a new direction, molding his mouth over hers, teasing, nibbling, licking. She shuddered as his tongue dipped in. She met it with her own, and then, unable to resist, gently sucked.

He reared back and stared at her. His eyes were rimmed with red, burned with desire. “God, Cassie,” he groaned, but didn’t finish the thought. As though he couldn’t resist, he kissed her again, but this time with a fiercer passion, one that made her muscles lock, her heart thud, her body melt.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, stroked his hair, and then scored his scalp in a rake of need.

His fingers roved over her back, up to her nape, down her flank. He squeezed her buttocks. The pressure sent shudders through her.

And then, as he held her tight with one hand, the other slid to her breast. He held his breath, gauging her reaction perhaps, as he gently cupped her. When she didn’t resist, when she wriggled impatiently in his embrace, he swept a thumb over her nipple.

Her body seized. Rivulets of pleasure washed through her, sending pings of absolute delight straight to her tingling clit. She couldn’t help it. She ground the aching nub against him.

He growled.

Like the Highlander he was, he growled.

Then he took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinched. It was a gentle nip, a tiny tug but it nearly destroyed her. Her knees went weak, and her breath caught in her chest. Her pulse fluttered. “Oh, Dylan,” she gasped, digging her nails into his back. “Yes.”

“You like that?” he said against her lips.

“Yes.”

“A little rough?”

“Yes.” Anything. Anything he wanted. Anything he did. She liked it.

His lips trailed over her cheek and nested in the crook of her neck. She tipped her head to the side to give him better access. The scrape of his teeth made her shiver.

“You taste exquisite,” he murmured. “Like sweet flowers and sexy sin. I want to eat you up.” His lips continued their journey over her sensitive flesh, across her collarbone to the rise of her breasts. With a start, she realized he’d somehow unbuttoned her blouse and now his rough palm skated over the bare flesh of her abdomen.

It felt so amazing, so wonderful, so warm.

He lifted his head and met her gaze and held it as he found both breasts and massaged her nipples in tandem. She sucked in a breath and threw her head back as twin shards of exquisite sensation rocked her.

When he took one, then the other in his mouth and sucked through the lace, she nearly collapsed. “Dylan…” It was all she could say. All she could manage. His name was the only thought rocketing around in her head.

She was absolutely, completely and utterly beset with lust for this man. She wanted to rip his clothes off and feast on him.

But when he leaned her against the table and dropped to his knees, she froze. Everything froze. Her muscles. Her brain. Her breath.

Because he unsnapped her jeans and eased them over her hips, along with her panties. He didn’t pull them all the way down, didn’t bother. Didn’t need to.

“God.” He stared at her exposed triangle. “Do you know how long I’ve dreamed about this?”

She didn’t have time to contemplate his statement, didn’t have the capacity to manage such a complex thought, because he leaned closer, opened her with his thumbs, and tasted her.

It was only a lick. A gentle, tentative swipe, but it was a caress over super-sensitized and greedy nerves, which screamed to his touch. Her womb clenched. Wetness gushed from her. “Ah!” A tiny tremor, the hint of orgasm, raced through her.

“Oh, yes. You’re delicious,” he said, and pressed closer. His tongue danced over her clit, explored her folds, sending waves of sizzling need along every nerve. He tormented her, teased her, tantalized her in an endless barrage of pleasure.

“Please,” she panted, raking his hair, holding him, guiding him, commanding him.

His intensity mounted. His licks and nips became wilder, faster. Feral.

Prickles of heat rose. A restless impatience snarled through her. She wanted more. Needed more.

And ah! Ah! Yes. He toyed with the mouth of her pussy and slipped a finger inside. Two. She clenched around them, and he hissed out a breath. “You’re so hot. Wet. Sweet.”

He eased out and thrust again, though the way was not clear. Her jeans were around her knees and she could open her legs only so wide. Frustration roiled through her, and she moved to kick off the obstruction. He forestalled her, shoving deep once more, hitting that spot, the bundle of weeping nerves deep inside.

She garbled an incomprehensible plea and lifted her hips.
More
, she chanted in her head, hoping he could hear her desperate entreaty.
More. More. More.

As though she’d screamed the words aloud, as though he could read her mind, taste her need, he complied, touching her exactly where she needed him.

The multiple stimulations overwhelmed her—the sense of fullness, the skitters of rapture as he nudged her G-spot, the velvet drag of his tongue on her clit. It was too much. Not nearly enough. Heaven and hell.

And then, he sucked.

She exploded. A glorious white light ascended, cradling her, transporting her, carrying her off to heaven. Sensation cascaded through her, swirling and storming and delighting her spirit like a full symphony at crescendo.

Even after her crest, he lapped her, stroked her, soothed her, bringing her back to earth with an astounding gentleness and skill.

And somehow, though he had satisfied her utterly, he left her wanting more.

Dylan sat back on his haunches and stared up at the woman who had come, so magnificently, to his touch. Her face was enraptured, a mask of tranquility and bliss. She came the way she played the cello, with brilliant, swift and definitive passion.

Her lashes, dewed with tears, fluttered open. Their gazes met, clung.

Her tongue peeped out and dabbed at her lush lower lip and she whispered, “W-we’ve only just met,” in a tone clouded with confusion and a hint of wonder.

“But I feel like I’ve known you forever.” He stroked her bare thigh, reveling in the way her skin shivered to his light touch.

He ached to cover her, plant himself in her sweltering depths, to
be
inside her. But he sensed she needed time to process the intensity of this moment.

So, as much as it killed him to do it, he eased her panties and her jeans back up and fastened them. Then he stood and methodically buttoned her blouse. When she was fully dressed, proper and prim once more, he pulled her into his arms and held her. Simply held her. Letting her warmth soak into him, her glorious scent infuse him. He loved the way she smelled. Reveled in the taste of her on his tongue.

“You were incredible,” he murmured into her hair.

“No, you were. But…”

He pulled back and looked down at her. “What?”

“But didn’t you want to…finish?”

He chuckled. “More than you know. But I want this to be right. I don’t want to move too quickly.” He stroked her back, teased his fingers up her spine to her nape. “Am I being an idiot?”

“Probably,” she said on a laugh. “But I like it.” She glanced at him through thick lashes. “Though I would like to…finish it.”

“Stay. Stay and we can get to know each other a little better before we…”

“Finish?”

“Yeah.” Oh. He wanted to finish. More than anything. Even now his cock throbbed impatiently. But he feared if he took her now, he wouldn’t last long at all. And he didn’t want to embarrass himself.

“I shouldn’t stay.”

His heart dropped. Right down to his toes. The prospect of her walking out the door devastated him. He wasn’t sure why.

“I mean, Lucy will be waiting for me to come back. I’ve already been gone too long.”

“To hell with Lucy. Stay. For a while.” Inspiration dawned. “Besides…I have a confession to make.”

She stilled. “Do you?”

“Umm hmm.” He grabbed the crutches and led her to the sofa, gratified that she sat next to him, and close. Their thighs touched. He picked up the program from the coffee table and handed it to her. “I saw you. In concert. Last month.”

“You did?” Her mouth made an intriguing little
O
.

He shifted. To ease his discomfort. It didn’t help. “Why do you look so shocked?”

She blew out a little laugh. “I didn’t take you for a classical kind of guy.”

“I’m not. Not really. But something about the cello…moves me.”

“I know. I feel the same. It’s my favorite instrument.”

“You play others?”

“All the strings. Once you learn one, you can switch easily. But I prefer the cello.” She snorted. “My friends, not so much. They complain when I practice all night.”

“Philistines. You can play for me any time.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve heard you playing here sometimes. In the night. It was…comforting.”

Her lips curled into a soft smile. “I’m glad. Is that why you went to the concert?”

“Partly.”

“Only partly?”

“And because I wanted to see you.”

“Me?” she squeaked.

He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to sound weird, but I’ve seen you around the island. I was…attracted. When I saw a handbill for your concert, I couldn’t resist.”

She stared at him. His pulse slowed, breath stalled as he waited for her reaction. If she pegged him as some creepy stalker, that would be it. He’d never see her again. But he’d needed to tell her the truth. She needed to know this was no passing fancy.

When a blush crept up her cheeks and her hand settled over his, relief rushed through him.

“And you were amazing. I loved every minute you were playing. That one piece, the prelude to something?”

“The Bach?”

“Yeah. It got me.” He put a palm over his heart. “Here.”