Waiting for You (14 page)

“You were a
cheerleader,” he said as if this should have come naturally to me. “I saw you
shake your ass every Friday night. You know how to move.” Dylan looked at the
couple next to us, grinding against each other. “Don’t worry, I can dance like
that and I plan on showing you.” He pushed his hips into my ass and I could
tell he was just as turned on as I was. He groaned, the sound barely audible
over the thump of the base pulsating through our bodies.

Turning me around, his
eyes stayed low between our bodies. With his right leg between my legs and one
hand around my waist, his other hand held his beer loose against his side.

Then he moved.

And I forgot about not
being able to dance like this.

As it turns out, I
could dance like that when Dylan was my partner. His breath on my neck was
distracting but his movements and his fingers digging into my hips were far
more distracting.

At some point, between
the movements and the beat of the music, I got into it and Dylan noticed.

Pressing forward, his
mouth kissed along my jaw until he found my neck and the spot right below my
ear. “You are so fucking sexy right now,” he moaned pressing forward more to
show me how sexy he thought I was. “I can’t help but want you right now, in
front of everyone.”

Cool, so he did feel
the same way. I wanted to say take me but I didn’t.

The beat playing mixed
with another song I recognized as Ying Yang Twins but didn’t know the name of
the song. It didn't matter either way, Dylan didn’t let go of me and we danced
our dirty dancing hearts out. My legs burned so bad they were trembling but I
couldn’t remember the last time I had that much fun.

Dylan knew how to move
too. His touches, his hips, all of it had me panting against him and wishing he
would take me in front of everyone like he wanted.

We took a break from
dancing to get another beer and I pushed my way to the bathroom. I made friends
with a girl in line that was there with her boyfriend.

I lost Dylan for a few
minutes and began to worry that maybe I had actually lost him.

Two songs later, I
found him glossy eyed and flushed cheeks. He said he was doing shots at the
bar. By then his shirt was off by then and I had no complaints.

Sweating, panting
words, touches that lingered longer than necessary and hips that found a
comfortable rhythm, we danced. There was something relaxing about dancing to
me, especially like this. I have always enjoyed dancing since I was little,
part of the reason that I was a cheerleader. You don’t have to try you just
move, feel the music, and react. If only everything was that simple but right
now, here, that’s exactly what I was doing.

Dylan’s eyes remained
down often, watching my hips move against his, the friction of our jeans
rubbing together felt so good, and I knew he felt it too.

We stayed like that
when Dylan drew back, gasping. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Why?”

“Because if you keep
moving like this,” he gestured south to my hips that were still moving against
him. “I’m going to bend you over the nearest table.

“Then do it,” I moaned
hitching my leg up his hip wrapping my arms around his neck, sliding over his
shoulders with the sweat.

“Don’t fuck with me,”
Dylan whispered against my skin, his throaty tone rumbled in his chest.

“At this point, Dylan,”
my eyes slowly closed and then found his lips, “I don’t think I would object.”

Bringing his beer that
was in his left hand to his mouth, he smiled into the neck. He took a drink
before letting it hang to the side of him, I was still moving against him.
“Let’s go then.”

The dance floor was
extremely crowded and any time I moved, I was rubbing against another guy. So
this time when I pushed back from Dylan, the guy behind me wrapped his hands
around my hips and drew me into him grinding against me. I laughed trying to
play it off but Dylan thought otherwise.

“Get your hands off
her,” Dylan seethed calmly pushing against the guy that kept dancing against
me.

The guy didn’t listen.
“We’re just
dancin
’ man, calm down.” He yelled over
the music at Dylan. I looked over my shoulder at the guy wondering if he even
stood a chance against Dylan.

He didn’t.

“Do I need to repeat
myself?” Dylan growled stepping forward.

“What are you going to
do to stop me?” The guy in the red hat spit back at him, his grasp on my hips
tightened. “We’re dancing’ man, relax. I’m not looking to bone her,” he smiled.
“Though she’s fucking hot,”

Yeah, that’s going to
help.

“I think you should
stop while you’re ahead buddy.” I urged trying to shove the guy back and diffuse
Dylan a little. I could already see the storm brewing in his eyes and the grasp
he had on my wrist was the warning.

The security guards got
wind of the shoving and stepped in thankfully. “Time to go guys,” he said
placing a hand on Dylan’s shoulder and red hat guy.

“Next time don’t do
that.” Dylan said as we stumbled across the street and headed back to our
hotel. The street lights and passing cars swayed with each step and I had to
use Dylan to walk.

“I wasn’t looking for
trouble, Dylan.” I pointed out. “I was dancing, with you.”

He sniffed giving me a
slight nod, his head down as we walked to the door, his hand securely around my
wrist.

Though I had never been
a drinker until a few days ago, it was then that I realized that when I drank,
I got brave and said what I wanted to. “Jesus, don’t act like this. I wasn’t
doing anything wrong.”

Frustration was evident
when he kicked the door shut with his foot, tossed his wet shirt on the floor
of the bathroom and then slammed the door to the bathroom.

Confused, I sat on the
bed and stared out the sliding glass door to another balcony. Every room we’ve
had recently had a balcony. Every hotel we had looked and felt the same.

Trying to count the
bars on the railing, I heard the door to the bathroom open and the sounds of
Dylan behind me. Then he stood in front of me at the edge of the king sized bed
with the creepy red comforter that kept attracting my drunk stare.

Glossy eyed, my eyes
traveled up from his waist, to his stomach, and then his eyes. Ice blue gazed back,
apologetic, compassionate.

“I’m sorry,” he
whispered, kneeling down, brushing his nose along my jaw.
He closed his eyes, shaking his head with a smirk. “It’s
hard not to be jealous when I haven’t had you and so many guys are lining up
for the opportunity.”

He seemed sorry but I wasn’t upset about anything that happened. It was
definitely the alcohol relaxing me. Do you ever have those times when thoughts
pass through your head like memories, drifting, but nothing sticks?

That was me when I drank.

“I think I need some
fresh air,” I said standing, wobbling, swaying and then stumbling.

I think Dylan was
afraid I would fall off the edge so he followed.

As the swaying and
spinning began to ease, my thoughts were more focused on what I felt in the
bar. Smiling at the memory of his skin against mine, I looked up at Dylan to
find him looking over the edge of the balcony at the pool below. “
Wanna
check out the hot tub?” he asked.

It sounded appealing
but then I remembered I didn’t have a bathing suit. “Yeah, but I don’t have a
bathing suit.”

Dylan shrugged taking
one last drag from his cigarette. “So?” Smoke filtered through his mouth and
nose as he spoke. “Wear your bra and underwear, or go naked, I don’t care.” He
tossed the bud over the balcony and headed for the slider.

“Yes you do,” I sighed
following him into the room.

“You’re right.” He
winked. “I want you naked.”

Both remaining quiet,
Dylan dropped his shorts letting it fall to the floor. Since he didn’t have a shirt
on, he didn’t have to bother with that. Finding me staring at him, he smirked
letting his eyes wander south, predictable when he was provoking me. “You
coming?”

“Is it even open?” I
yawned looking from the bed that was calling my name back to the boy, I wished
was calling my name right now. “It’s like two in the morning.”

“Who cares?”

Clearly, he did not.

With a little
hesitation, I stripped down to my black bra and underwear and stood in front of
him, my arms wrapped around my stomach, insecure, nervous. My stomach
flip-flopped waiting for him to say something, anything, nothing.

Shifting his weight
from his right to left foot, contemplating, cocky, he winked running his hand
down his jaw. “Sexy,” he whispered, eyes dropping lower to my thighs.

Even with my relaxed
state, a rush of fear pricked my skin that he would find something he didn’t
like.

He knew.

“Stop over analyzing
it. Let’s go.” When he got to the door, he reached inside the bathroom for a
few towels and tossed one my direction and one over his shoulder.

Through two gates and
two sets of stairs, we made our way down to the oval pool and palm tree
landscaping straight from the cover of that Hotel California CD.

While Dylan was
completely comfortable walking around in his underwear, I wasn’t so confident
in myself and kept adjusting the towel.

He noticed, of course
he noticed. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to burn that fucking towel.”

Fearing he would, I
stopped.

Reaching the edge of
the pool, my black painted toes shined under the lights around the pool and the
glow from the aqua blue below.

I looked down and
realized a half a second too late that standing this close to the edge of the
pool was a very stupid mistake. I forgot who I came down here with.

Walking past me, he
kept his head down.
“Looks cold.”

With a quick push from
behind, I could attest to how cold that water was.

Yep. It was fucking
cold. “Whatever happened to heated pools?” I shrieked treading water for
warmth, gasping, trembling and pissed.

Dylan flashed a relaxed
smile my way. “In a hurry to get wet?” he took a seat in a lounge chair a few
feet from me. “I could help with that, yes?”

“You’re such a smug
bastard when you want to be.”

Shrugging, he leaned
back with his hands behind his head.

Though it was cold, the
water felt good on my heated skin. After a while, and two cigarettes later,
Dylan was in the water with me.

There was another part
to feeling the liquid courage I had, confessions. It seemed I said what I felt
or regretted.

“I’m sorry I stopped
talking to you.”

Dylan nodded his eyes
on the water.

“My parents wouldn’t
let—”

“Don’t.” He closed his
eyes. Breathing, calming, ice blue met mine. “Don’t you dare say you didn’t
have a choice? You
always
have a choice.”

“You’re right,” I agreed
moving closer to him. When I got close enough, I rested my hands on his chest
over his dragon tattoo. “I’m not giving you any excuses here. I listened to
them. I did. That’s my problem. I did what they wanted.”

“What about what you
want?”

I thought for a moment
and realized I had absolutely no idea what I wanted.

That’s when Dylan snuck
his hands around my waist under the water. “It doesn’t make you any less of a
person to have the time of your life.”

“Where were you four
years ago?” I joked, kind of. Part of me was serious. After finding out the
relationship I had with Eric was built on lies, I couldn’t help but wonder if
maybe I’d missed what was right in front of me. Just four days into my time
with Dylan had me feeling things I’d never felt before.

“I’ve always been here,
brown eyes.” His head dipped forward and kissed me once, the taste of beer and
cigarettes stayed. “You just never noticed.”

My reply was quiet but
the sentiment was not. “No, I noticed you before.”

“Oh right,” he laughed
creating distance. “You had a crush on the bad boy. You know that’s just some
imagine people see. They never knew him but they saw trouble.”

Just as I was about to
say something else, a couple walked inside the gate and took up residence in
the hot tub. Not shitting you here but he was so hairy it looked like he was
sporting a fur sweater and she was so dark in skin appeared to be leather and
she was a white girl.

Dylan looked at me,
amused. “What do you think they’re saying?” he asked grinning. “I bet it’s
dirty.”

The couple spoke
quietly to each other, hands exploring, mouths touching. By the looks of their
display, it was evident it was dirty. Probably not anywhere, near as dirty as
Chaz
and
Reeper
were.

“He’s probably saying,
‘Oh baby, I love threading my fingers through your hair’.”

I did the same to Dylan
grabbing a hold of him and tugging on his hair.

He didn’t hesitate to
wrap his hands around my ass holding me against him, his fingers dangerously
close to my goods.

“Don’t fuck with me,
brown eyes.” Dylan whispered against my skin, kissing my neck. His throaty tone
made me wild and the rumble in his chest made me moan. “I just got calmed down
from the bar.”

“Why not fuck with
you?” I hedged drawing closer, my legs tightened around his waist. “I want to
Dylan.”

Taking his hands from
around my ass, he framed my face, his eyes on mine, serious, soul deep
connection trying to be made. “You just got out of a relationship.
A long relationship where the guy used you.
I’m not going to
take something from you like that just because I want you.”

“So you do want to…?” I
felt silly for asking but I did. I didn’t want to be one of those girls that
constantly needed reassurance but at times, I did.