Bad Boys After Dark: Dylan (Bad Billionaires After Dark Book 2), Page 2

  A sinful smile formed across her beautiful face, and he took her in another ravenous kiss, unleashing the wild, hungry beast in both of them. He tugged her long hair, angling her head back so he could claim that luscious neck of hers. He kissed and sucked, still teasing her down below. His thumb moved over her clit as his fingers moved in and out of her slick heat. She sucked in a multitude of sharp breaths and gripped his cock so tight he groaned. And then her hips bucked off the seat and she cried out. He smothered her cries with another kiss, swallowing her moans and reveling in the tight clenching of her sex. He wanted to bury his mouth between her long, lean legs and devour her.

  As she came down from the peak, he trailed kisses over her lips, loving the sweet sighs escaping them. He withdrew his fingers, and she squeezed her thighs together with a sexy whimper. He couldn’t suppress a grin at her neediness. He swiped his glistening fingers over her lower lip, then sucked that pink, plump lip between his teeth. She was still palming his cock, rubbing it with tight, even strokes, but she was barely breathing, and there was so much lust brimming in her eyes he wondered if she even realized she was doing it. He couldn’t resist kissing her again, hard and rough, pushing the limits, testing her boundaries, and earning another seductive sound of appreciation.

  When their mouths parted, she lifted her chin, narrowed her gorgeous green eyes, and flashed a haughty grin, as if she’d flicked a switch from vixen to assessor.

  “I’d say that was a solid seven and a half. I hope you can perform better than that.”

  Oh, you little minx. He liked her sharp wit almost as much as he liked that sassy mouth of hers on his. “Don’t you worry, summer girl. Now that I know what you’re used to, I’ll give more than ten percent effort.”

  He lifted her hand from his lap and kissed the back of it. That earned him a slightly uncomfortable smile, which was more telling than her aggressive sensuality. He had a feeling his summer girl was far more complex than he’d originally thought, and that made her even more intriguing.

  Her phone sounded with a shrill ringtone and her face blanched. She grabbed it from her lap and answered with frantic urgency. “Hello?”

  A deep voice rumbled through the phone loud enough for Dylan to hear. “Where are you?”

  Dylan cringed inwardly at the tone that sounded suspiciously like a jealous boyfriend. Mick hadn’t said anything about her seeing anyone. He’d have to remember to give his eldest brother hell when he returned from his honeymoon.

  “In a cab,” she said hastily. “Going home.”

  Dylan liked no-strings-attached sex as much as the next guy, but he prided himself on not touching another man’s woman. He had too much self-respect to be a cheating son of a bitch, and he had too much respect for relationships in general to be someone’s excuse to ruin one. Hell, a real relationship was high on his list of priorities, but he had yet to find the right woman to share his life with.

  Gritting his teeth, he moved over, putting space between them, and took a quick glance at her left hand. No ring. No tan lines. At least he hadn’t missed any obvious signs. Ignoring her curious expression, he stared out the window, wondering if he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.

  Chapter Two

  WITH THE PHONE still pressed to her ear, Tiffany instructed the cabdriver, “New York–Presbyterian Hospital, please. As fast as you can.” She looked around as they sped down the road, trying to get a handle on where they were. “I’ll be there in less than ten minutes,” she said into the phone. God, where was her head? She’d just been finger-fucked in the back of a cab. That was so not her. She never let a guy take control like that. Her long work hours must be catching up to her. She really needed to find a better way to relieve stress.

  She tried to concentrate on what her eldest brother, Rocco, was saying, but blood was rushing through her ears, and when Dylan turned toward her with a compassionate expression, her heart stumbled. She wasn’t losing her mind after all. There wasn’t a woman alive who could resist that chiseled, handsome face, those eyes that promised mind-numbing orgasms, and in a single blink turned heartwarmingly compassionate, or a mouth that should come with a warning label that read, PANTY BURNER AHEAD. The man had superpowers, and she needed full-body armor to resist him. She was in the midst of transitioning her sports agency from L.A. to New York, while dealing with an ailing father. She had zero time for distractions. She could not afford for her hormones to suddenly go all girly on her.

  She held up a finger in answer to his curious expression, catching about every other thing her brother said.

  Her father had been diagnosed with kidney disease a few months ago, caused by his high blood pressure, which was why she’d decided it was time to move back to New York, where she was from and where her father still resided. His symptoms were well controlled with medication, but apparently he’d been rushed to the hospital about an hour ago in tremendous pain.

  “He’s undergoing tests.” Rocco went on to explain that he’d spoken to the doctor and would fill her in when she arrived. “I’ll wait for you in the emergency room lobby.”

  She ended the call as they pulled up in front of the hospital, and threw open the cab door. “Sorry! Rain check,” she called over her shoulder as she ran inside. She spotted Rocco pacing, his head hanging between his shoulders, one large hand rubbing the back of his neck. He was completely oblivious to half the females in the place watching him.

  “How is he?” she asked.

  He lifted dark, brooding eyes that looked so much like her father’s it always gave her pause. “Not sure yet, but hopefully we’ll know soon.”

  He ran his eyes over her, and she smoothed her blouse and skirt, hoping she didn’t look guilty of making out in the back of a frigging cab.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  No. My heart is racing. I just did something I will never do again, and I’m not sure why I did it. Her brother didn’t need to know any of that.

  Usually a master at hiding her emotions, she hoped her inner ice queen wouldn’t fail her now. “Yes, of course.”

  He looked past her, his brows slanted in confusion as a heavy but gentle hand landed on her shoulder.

  She spun around, surprised to see Dylan.

  In the bright hospital lights Dylan looked even taller and broader, his five-o’clock shadow more prominent over his sharp, masculine features. But it was his warm bedroom eyes that had her stomach doing dips and flips, making her feel out of control once again. Her eyes darted to Rocco, whose curious gaze moved between the two of them. At twenty-nine she could count the number of times her brothers had met men she’d gone out with. Exactly zero since college.

  “Rocco, this is—”

  “Dylan, my man.” Rocco pulled him into a manly embrace and swatted him on the back.

  Oh shit. Seriously? She’d lost control with her brother’s friend? This had to be the worst night ever. So much for hooking up with the incredible kisser with the talented fingers. This had to end. Now.

  “Hey, Winters. Good to see you.” Dylan looked at Tiffany and his smile faded fast. “Wait, you’re married?”

  “What?” she said at the same time her brother said, “Dude!”

  “No, we’re not married. He’s my brother,” she explained.

  Relief swept over Dylan’s face. “Christ, for a minute there I thought…”

  Rocco turned a hand palm up. “Dude, you’ve seen me out with women. What kind of guy do you think I am?”

  “Sorry, man.” Dylan waved a hand dismissively. “I just had trouble putting the two of you together.”

  “How do you guys know each other?” Tiffany asked.

  “From NightCaps.” Dylan handed Tiffany her purse. “You left this in the cab. Is everything okay?”

  NightCaps? The bar? “I, um, our father’s not well.” The pit of her stomach sank. Between seeing Dylan and the shock of him knowing her brother, her father had fallen to the back of her mind. She hated herself for that, and it was proof that she was
not wired to function well when things were out of her control. Suddenly the weight of where they were, and what it meant, hit her. She turned away so Dylan wouldn’t see the tears burning in her eyes, and a moment later, he folded her into his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

  She bristled at the intimate embrace. He ran a hand gently down her back, holding her against all his hard muscles, safe and—Holy shit. It was happening again. She pushed from his arms. The embrace had lasted only a few seconds, but like his kisses, it shattered her guard. Where was kryptonite when she needed it?

  He shifted his eyes to Rocco, who was now looking at her with an even bigger question in his eyes.

  The last thing she wanted to do was answer questions about that embrace. That stupid, heartwarming, thoughtful embrace.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Dylan offered. “Do you want me to call someone for you? To stick around in case you need someone to lean on?”

  She folded her arms over her stomach, hating the fluttery feelings his kindness stirred. She was used to having to fight for everything: returned phone calls, meetings, coffee at the damn café. Air. Sidewalk space. What didn’t she have to fight for in New York City?

  “Thanks,” she finally managed. “But I’m fine, really.”

  “We’re good, man. Thanks for…” Rocco raised a brow at Tiffany.

  “Bringing my purse,” she said stiffly. “Thank you.”

  Dylan leaned down, and his masculine scent made her stomach quiver anew. He kissed her cheek and whispered, “Looking forward to that rain check, Summers, but I’m also a hell of a good listener. If you need an ear, I’m in apartment 801. You can even bring your phone.”

  With a flirtatious smile and a cocky wink aimed at her, then a friendly nod toward her brother, he turned to leave. Of course, now she was staring at his hot-as-sin ass as he walked away.

  She groaned and spun on her heel, realizing then that nearly every woman within fifty feet was also enjoying the view.

  Rocco draped an arm over her shoulder. “So, baby sister. You and my man Bad?”

  “No.” She felt a strange pang of disappointment and fought the urge to turn and take one last peek at Dylan, because damn, she’d never been kissed like that before, and Lord have mercy, the man’s fingers were beyond talented. But it was the compassion in his voice, the tenderness of that single embrace, that had her mind wondering, What if…?

  “Must have been an illusion,” Rocco said as they approached the nurses’ station.

  “What?” She stole a glance at the exit, disappointed that Dylan was already gone.

  “I could have sworn the ice queen melted a little when you were in his arms.”

  She socked him in the arm, fighting a smile at the well-earned nickname he’d given her in high school.

  “Dylan’s a nice guy,” Rocco said lightly. “You should give him a chance. Enjoy yourself a little.”

  I already enjoyed myself way more than a little.

  “Who has time for that?” Certainly not me. Rocco’s comment didn’t really surprise her. She’d never been a girl whose brothers needed to protect her. They taught her to play sports, be tough, and even throw solid punches. He knew she could handle herself.

  “You’re already one of the best sports agents around. How much more can you want?” He gave her the look he’d been giving her his whole life, the look that said, You’re already keeping up with the big boys; give it a rest.

  As she had her whole life, she ignored that look, because she knew, as did her professional rugby-playing brother, that when you let your guard down, when you sat back and enjoyed what you had, that was when you got blindsided.

  “As much as I can get,” she answered, more to herself than to him.

  Turning her attention to the reason she was there, she squared her shoulders and put on her game face. The face that had pulled her through the past twenty-two years since her mother had abandoned them to be with another man, through too many male-dominated sports-related conferences to remember, and through countless other life-altering events where there was no room for weakness. That perfectly practiced mask greeted the elderly nurse behind the desk.

  “Hi. Our father was brought in tonight. Gunner…I mean George Winters. Has he been given a room yet?” She was so used to hearing everyone call her father by the name he used during his football career, it felt strange to say his given name. But tonight was full of oddities, including the lingering sound of Dylan’s voice whispering through her mind. Looking forward to that rain check, Summers, but I’m also a hell of a good listener. If you need an ear, I’m in apartment 801. You can even bring your phone.

  Chapter Three

  “I DON’T KNOW, Dyl. You left flowers at her door and your phone number on the card this morning, and it’s”—Dylan’s youngest brother, Brett, checked his watch—“six o’clock. The chick is not going to call.”

  Dylan climbed down from the ladder and set his tools on the workbench. It was Sunday evening, and they were working on his kitchen renovation. He chugged half a bottle of water and unhooked his tool belt, thinking about the way Tiffany had turned the tables on him in front of the bar last night. She was a fierce one, and he couldn’t wait to get to know her better. He’d thought about her all night, wondering what happened with her father and hoping she was doing okay. A quick glance at the mailboxes had revealed her apartment number, making it easy for him to leave her flowers.

  “She’ll call.” He was sure of it. Their connection had been white-hot from the moment they’d first set eyes on each other, and he had a feeling there was a lot more to the hyper-vigilant phone-checker than her good looks and snappy wit. He’d been surprised to find out she was Rocco’s sister, but that wasn’t going to deter him from pursuing her. Hell, he wasn’t sure anything would at this point. One taste of Tiffany Winters wasn’t nearly enough.

  Brett set his tool belt on the tarp covering the hardwood floor and took a swig of his beer. “You’re dreaming, bro. She reps a few of my clients, and I’m telling you, she has balls of steel. If you get her at all, it’ll be for a quick fuck, on her terms. Nothing more. And that’s not really you.”

  Dylan met Brett’s knowing stare. Of his three brothers, Brett was the most like their father, sharing his square jaw and deep-set eyes that held an ever-present warning not to get too close, despite his flirtatious banter with every woman who crossed his path. He was an ex-cop and co-owner of an international security firm with their brother Carson. Where Carson was the strong, quiet type, Brett was a bull in a china shop, which made them the perfect team, since he loved playing the heavy hand.

  “She’s ballsy,” Dylan agreed. “But trust me, Tiffany’s one hundred percent woman. And, by the way, this underscores how different we are. You’re like all the other guys out there. You see a hot woman and take her at face value. One day you’ll learn to see the real woman behind the facade, little brother. She wants you to see her as a hard-nosed businesswoman, which she is, no doubt. A fucking bulldog, according to Mick. And Christ, I fucking loved that aggressive side of her when we were making out in the cab. But I held her in my arms in the hospital, and I felt the restraint it took for her to keep her emotions in check.” He chugged his drink, the memory of her in his arms making his palms warm. “She’s got shit going on in her head, and a few nights in my bed might loosen her up. I’ll tell you what, bro. I sure as hell want to be the man who tries to shake her up. Besides, what’s the big deal? Everyone bottles shit up. That’s the way life works.”

  Brett scoffed and finished his beer.

  “You know I’m right, bro,” Dylan insisted. “You think you work out like a monkey on steroids for fun?”

  All the Bad brothers were tall, strong, and broad, but Brett spent hours in the gym working out the rage left over from when their younger sister, Lorelei, died from leukemia at the tender age of eight. It was a loss that had significantly affected Dylan and each of his brothers, and had eventually cost their par
ents their marriage. The twentieth anniversary of her death had passed, terribly silent and gruelingly painful, a few weeks earlier.

  “I do it to keep the old bod in prime shape for the ladies.” Brett patted his six-pack abs.

  “Bullshit. You’d explode if you didn’t work out. Carson stifles every damn thing he feels. And Mick? He never let a woman into his life until Amanda broke through his barriers.”

  Brett gnashed his teeth together, narrowing his dark eyes. “And you’re as touchy-feely as a chick.”

  “Whatthefuckever. I’m just not burying my head in the sand. We all have our ways of dealing with it.” And by it, he meant the loss of their sister, which didn’t need spelling out. Especially to Brett, who hadn’t become a ticking time bomb until after they’d lost Lorelei.

  His brother’s eyes sailed over his torn-apart kitchen. “Like renovating your kitchen every few years? You know, most guys hire contractors to do this shit.”

  Most guys didn’t have the same demons as Dylan. He was twelve when they’d lost Lorelei, which was old enough to have loads of treasured memories and young enough to be confused and devastated at losing one of the people he loved most. His sharpest memories were of baking with Lorelei after everyone else was asleep. They’d sneak out of bed and make cupcakes. Always cupcakes. They were all protective as hell over her, and he, like his brothers, would have done anything for her. Lorelei had the type of sweet and trusting personality that made you want to see her smile. If she wanted cupcakes, he baked the damn cupcakes. No matter what time it was. Why she chose him as her personal fucking baker, he had no clue, but after they’d lost her, he was glad they’d had that time together. Their parents knew of their midnight baking fun. How could they not, with fresh cupcakes left on the kitchen table along with silly notes from the cupcake fairies? Before Lorelei died they were a close-knit, loud, loving family, and their midnight fun was seen as Dylan and Lorelei’s thing. After they lost her, their family was never the same.