“You scared the shit out of me when I couldn’t find you,” he snaps right back. “What the hell are you doing hiding in here?”
“Huh?” I play dumb then look around like I just realized where I was.
“Jesus, you are a total fucking nut. C’mere.” He holds out his hand, and my eyes drop to it like it’s a snake that will strike me at any moment.
“I’m not a nut,” I defend, even though I may be, but only because he is making me one.
“C’mere.”
“I’m right here.”
“Yes, but I want you right here.” He points to the ground at his feet and raises a brow.
“Why?”
“Because I do.”
“That’s not a good reason.” I shake my head, and his eyes close briefly like he’s annoyed then open and pin me in place, narrowing. Lunging forward, he catches my waist and pulls me into him.
“You’re so annoying,” I grumble, watching him smile. “What did you want to tell me that you couldn’t say with me standing over there?”
“She never stayed in here. We didn’t share a room or a bed.”
Snorting, I lean my head back, looking at the ceiling, wondering how stupid he thinks I am, and he gives me a squeeze, pulling my gaze back to him.
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah, I bet,” I huff, trying to pull away.
“You were my first.” My body freezes, and I wonder if I heard him right.
“What?”
“You were my first,” he repeats, and I swear he’s saying he was a virgin. I want to laugh, but the look in his eyes says he isn’t joking. Then I remember our first time, and every time since then, and I wonder how much porn he’s watched, because moves like the ones he has had to come from somewhere.
“I see that you don’t believe me,” he mutters, and I shake my head, trying to process his words and exactly what they mean.
“No, actually, I’m just wondering exactly how much porn you’ve watched,” I say, and he gives me a sexy grin then takes a step forward, pressing me into the island in the center of the closet, then lifts me up to sit on top of it.
“Haven’t watched any porn, baby.” His words vibrate against my ear that he nips, causing my knees to go weak as he uses his hips to spread them open.
“Are you sure?”
“Didn’t want to go to hell.” I hear the smile in his voice, and I move my hands up to wrap around his shoulders then lean back so I can see his face. “It was you.” His fingers trail down my cheek gently. “I knew it was you. At times, it pissed me off that it was you, but that doesn’t change the fact it’s been only you since the moment we met.”
“Dillon.” I feel my face soften, and my body presses closer to his.
“I’m no saint. I’ve had my fair share of close calls, but no one ever felt right.” He holds my face in his palms and kisses me softly… so softly I feel that kiss score through every cell in my body. “Until you.”
Tears sting my nose, and I drop my forehead to his shoulder and try to get myself under control as his fingers slide back through my hair to wrap around my scalp. His words are not the words of love I so desperately want to hear from him, but they are words that make me hopeful.
“You didn’t even like me,” I whisper into his skin, and his fingers tense against my scalp.
“You’re wrong,” his lips whisper back against the top of my head, and I squeeze my eyes closed, wondering what the hell is happening and when I will wake up from this crazy, impossible dream… or if I ever want to.
Chapter 5
Ashlyn
“Your mom and dad get home today,” Dillon reminds me as he leans against the counter opposite me with a cup of coffee in his hands. His broad chest and abs visible for me to drool over.
“I know.” I don’t need his reminder. I’ve talked to both my parents a few times since they’ve been gone, and neither of them has brought up my relationship with Dillon. I’m worried. My dad isn’t someone who beats around the bush, so to speak. So I have no idea what to expect from him when he gets back into town.
“I know you’re worried.”
“I am,” I agree, thinking that’s the understatement of the century.
Turning, he drops his coffee behind him to the granite then moves to where I’m standing, wrapping his hands around my waist and lifting me up to sit on the counter I was just leaning against. “I won’t hide our marriage from anyone else.”
“Dillon,” I sigh, wishing he understood where I’m coming from. “It’s not as easy as just telling them we got married.”
His hands rest against my thighs and his fingers begin to rub circles there. “I know, but we are married.”
“My parents are going to have concerns, valid concerns.” I rest my hands on his shoulders and lean into him. “We didn’t date. We jumped right into being married and basically living together.”
“There is no ‘basically’ about it. We are living together, and will be until the day we die,” he growls, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes at him. He’s so damn hardheaded.
“Can you at least try to see where I’m coming from?” I plea.
“You’re an adult. You live on your own and make your own money. What you do with your life is your choice.”
“It’s not as black and white as you see it,” I huff, knowing from our previous talks on the matter it’s pointless to argue with him. He just doesn’t understand, or he really believes what he’s saying and thinks it is as easy as just telling them about us.
“You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
“No I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Dillon, please think about it. I mean, we’re not even in love,” I whisper a half lie. I, at some point over the last two weeks, have accepted I’m in love with him, but that doesn’t mean he feels the same as I do.
His hands drop from my thighs like I’ve burned him and he takes a sudden step back, leaving me feeling cold. Watching, I’m at a loss from his reaction. He runs a hand through his hair, and my heart lodges in my throat. “Jesus, what the fuck?” he barks, looking up at the ceiling, then turns and leaves. I don’t know how long I sit there, stunned. But when he comes back, he’s dressed in black workout pants, a plain gray tee, and sneakers.
“I’ll be back.” He grabs his car keys off the counter, barely sparing me a glance as he turns to leave.
“What?” I ask, suddenly panicked. Hopping down from the counter, I follow behind him toward the door. “What the hell just happened?” I shout at his back, and his pain-filled eyes shoot to me over his shoulder with his hand on the knob.
“I just found out the woman I’m in love with isn’t in love with me,” he states matter-of-factly, then storms out through the front door, slamming it behind himself.
“What?” I ask, but it’s too late. He’s gone. Plopping down on the sofa, my head drops to my hands and tears of annoyance fill my eyes.
“Hssss.” Pulling my hands from my face, I look at Leo as he hisses again and takes a swipe at me.
“How was I supposed to know?” I cry, glaring at my cat when he swipes at me again. “He didn’t tell me,” I defend myself as his golden eyes meet mine, and then I swear he glares before hissing once more and hopping down off the couch, prancing off.
Seeing my cell phone on the coffee table, I pick it up and dial Dillon’s number, but he doesn’t answer. I dial again, and still get no answer. I want to toss the stupid thing across the room. I don’t understand why he’s mad. It’s not like I knew he was in love with me; I had no clue. Getting off the couch, I go to my room and straight to my closet, where I put on a pair of my most comfortable jeans that are ripped to shreds, my bra, and a tank top, then slip my feet into my flip-flops. Once I’m dressed, I run a brush through my hair quickly then dial Michelle.
“Hey-yo,” she greets on the second ring, and I sigh in relief.
“I need your help with something. Can you meet me?” I ask softly, wo
ndering if I’m making a huge mistake, but I’ve been thinking about this for a few days and it’s now or never.
“Does this meeting involve burying Dillon’s body in the woods?”
“No.” I laugh, walking back through my house toward the kitchen where my keys are.
“Cool, just wanted to know so I can figure out what to wear,” she murmurs, and I hear Luka in the background say something to her that I can’t make out.
“Crap, you’re home with Luka. I totally forgot it’s Sunday.”
“I am, but he’s topped up. He’ll be fine for a few hours. Where are we meeting?” she asks, and I can hear Luka laughing about never being topped up.
“The Coffee Hut, and bring your realtor stuff with you.”
“My realtor stuff?” she questions, sounding confused.
“Just bring it!” I cry.
“Okay, but can I ask what the hell is going on and why you sound so freaked?”
“I’ll explain when I see you. Meet me in fifteen.”
“Fifteen?” she hisses, “Crap, woman, can I have at least thirty minutes? I haven’t even showered.”
“Fine, thirty.” I hang up and head for the door.
“Okay, seriously, what the hell is going on?” Michelle asks as soon as she takes the seat across from me, and I scoot the coffee I got her to her side of the table.
“I want to buy a house.”
“Um…” Her brow furrows. “You just bought your house. Are you looking for an investment property?” she asks, taking a sip of her coffee before setting her laptop on the table and turning it on.
“No, I want to buy Dillon’s house,” I admit, and her head snaps up to me.
“What? Why?”
“You know Dillon put his house on the market. He loves his house, and I don’t want him to give that up because of me, so I’m going to buy it.”
Leaning back, she crosses her arms over her chest and studies me. “What the hell is really going on? You hate his house.”
“I don’t hate it, not exactly anyways.” I shrug, and her eyes narrow. “It’ll grow on me,” I gripe, and her eyebrows lower.
“Ashlyn.”
“Fine, I think Dillon and I are fighting.” I bite the inside of my cheek. I’m pretty sure we’re fighting; I just still have no idea why.
“You think you’re fighting?”
“Maybe not fighting-fighting, but I told him we’re not in love and he got pissed and stormed out, but not before tossing a grenade at me. I think his words were, ‘I just found out the woman I’m in love with isn’t in love with me.’”
“Oh,” she sighs, and slouches forward on the chair.
“Yeah.”
“Buying his house isn’t going to fix this.”
“I’m not stupid, Michelle. I know buying his house isn’t going to fix anything, but I want him to know I believe in us as much as he does.”
“You’re in love with him.” It’s a statement, but I still nod, picking up my coffee.
“Yes, I’ve also accepted that,” I grumble into my cup.
“Don’t sound so mad about it.” She laughs. She would think this is funny.
“I’m not mad, but we just got on a crazy roller-coaster together, and I can’t see the top. I’m freaking out, because there could be no more tracks left once we reach the tipping point.”
“He’s in love with you. That’s not going to change just because he’s mad. He’s kind of intense, and you probably hurt his feelings since he’s been lusting after you forever. Maybe even in love with you for that long. And now he thinks you don’t feel the same. It’s standard Alpha Male Syndrome.”
“Alpha Male Syndrome?” I laugh, and she nods.
“Yes, Alpha Male Syndrome, and your man is suffering from the worst case I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m still buying the house,” I tell her, and her eyes soften.
“Let me look it up. Do you know the address?”
“Yeah.” I tell her, and she types it into her computer then blinks at the screen. “What? Please don’t tell me someone has already put an offer on it.”
“No, no offer.” She spins her laptop around to face me. I scan the screen and the details of the house, and then feel bile rise up the back of my throat when I see the asking price.
“Six hundred thousand?” I whisper in disbelief. My house only cost me a hundred and sixty thousand. Granted, it’s much smaller than his, but still. That price is outrageous. “Stupid fountain.”
“What?” she questions.
“Nothing,” I mutter. “How much would my down payment need to be?”
“One hundred and twenty thousand, give or take, depending on if he’s willing to negotiate.”
Sitting back, defeated, I sigh. “I don’t have that much saved.” I have some money, but not a hundred and twenty thousand dollars. If I did, I would have zero school loans and a newer car than the one I have now.
“You should just talk to him. He doesn’t need a grand gesture like this.” She waves at the computer, and I bite the inside of my cheek.
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“Not unless you want to go bankrupt.”
“What the hell have I gotten myself into?” I moan.
“It’s called a relationship.” She smiles, taking a sip of coffee, and I kick her under the table.
“I wish you could have seen the look on his face when he talked about why he bought it. He loves it, and because of me, he’s giving it up.”
“So move into it with him.”
“What?” I frown, and she rolls her eyes.
“If you don’t want him to sell it, then just move in with him.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because you’re blonde now.”
“Shut up.” I smile as the wheels in my head start to turn.
“What did you drive?”
“My Suburban, why?” she asks, studying me.
“I need your help.”
“Does this help involve carrying heavy shit?”
“Maybe.” I shrug, picking up my coffee, taking another sip and hoping this plan of mine works.
“You are so lucky I wore sneakers,” she mutters, and I grin.
*
“What the fuck is going on?” is roared, and I look at Michelle with wide eyes and feel my heart lodge itself in my throat.
“Oh shit,” I breathe, and my stupid best friend has the audacity to point at me and laugh as the bottles of my shampoo and conditioner in my hand drop and clatter to the bathroom floor.
“Ashlyn?” he calls, and I duck down. Why? I don’t know; it’s not like he can’t see me. But I feel safer hidden behind Michelle, who is now laughing like a hyena.
“Michelle, can I talk to my wife? Alone?” he asks, exaggerating the word wife, and I cringe.
“Yep.” She turns to look at me, mouthing, Alpha Male Syndrome, then smiles. “I’ll call you tomorrow, love you,” she chirps, disappearing out of the bathroom and leaving me to face my very pissed off husband.
“Do you want to tell me why the fuck all my shit is packed?” he asks, swinging his hand in the direction of the bedroom.
“I…” I freeze. He must not have noticed I packed a lot of my stuff as well.
“Jesus, what the fuck?” he growls before I have a chance to answer. “I’m not moving out, and if you think I am, you have lost your damn mind.”
“Dillon,” I interject softly, and his eyes narrow.
“I wasn’t even gone for three hours, and in that time, you convinced yourself that we’re separating?” He leans in. “Think again, baby, ’cause it’s not happening. Not now, not ever. We’re married, and are staying fucking married.” He clips off the last point close to my face.
“Married?”
Oh, fuck me, not again.
My eyes slice past Dillon to my dad standing in the doorway of my room. “Dad.”
“What’s going on?” my mom questions, coming up behind my dad and putting
her hand to his waist so she can see around him.
“Apparently, your daughter is a married woman now,” he growls, looking down at her.
“Dad,” I repeat, feeling suddenly heartbroken. He only does the whole ‘I’m my mom’s kid’ thing when he’s really pissed off at me.
“Married?” Mom whispers, looking at me with wide, hurt-filled eyes.
“Let’s go sit down and talk about this,” Dillon suggests, sounding much calmer than he did moments ago, and my dad’s eyes swing to him and fill with anger.
“Talk? You want to talk to me now? Why the fuck didn’t you talk to me before you married my only goddamn daughter?” he barks, and my arms wrap around my waist. I knew this would be bad. I knew it. But still, I secretly hoped it would turn out okay once I told them.
“Honey, calm down,” Mom whispers from his side, and I watch him pull in a ragged breath.
“I don’t even know what the fuck to say right now.” He pulls off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair then looks at me. “I can’t believe you kept this from your mom and me.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, thinking those words don’t even come close to conveying how horrible I truly feel right now.
“You.” He points at Dillon. “I’ve trusted you.”
“He wanted to tell you,” I defend without thinking, stepping between them, only to have Dillon put his hand to my waist and pull me to his side.
“Yeah, but he didn’t,” he mutters, then looks down at my mom. “Come on, let’s get home.” He wraps his arm around her shoulders, leading her away. I want to say something to stop them from going, but I know right now it’s best if I let them go and give them a chance to cool down. I also know I need to come up with a valid reason for keeping them in the dark.
“Shhhh.” Dillon’s arms engulf me as a sob climbs up the back of my throat and my body jerks forward. “It will be okay. They just need some time for the news to sink in,” he whispers, and I cry harder into his chest. Scooping me up into his arms, he carries me out of the room to the living room and settles us on the couch, with me in his lap. “Please calm down. The tears are killing me.”