41
The guys finish their set to the enthusiastic roaring of the crowd. Dillon jumps down off the stage, after passing his guitar to Conor, as the next band is getting ready to rock it out. Women grab at him as he makes his way toward us, but he has singular focus—me.
“Holy shit, babe,” Audrey roars in my ear. “He looks like he wants to eat you alive.”
I slap her arm. “Not helping!” I’m practically hyperventilating at the hungry glint in his eyes as he heads straight for me.
“Uh-oh.” Ash pulls me down, shouting in my ear. “You’re in trouble. Just remember to make him double bag it!”
“Ash!” I shriek, as she and Audrey burst out laughing. “I’m not sleeping with your brother!”
Lips brush my ear. “Is that a challenge?” Dillon grabs my hips from behind, tugging at my earlobe, and it’s like there’s a direct line to my pussy. My core throbs, screaming at me for release, as I push back against his body. He grinds his erection against my ass as his hand slips under my T-shirt. “Well?” he asks.
“Well, what?” I whimper, moving my body in sync with his movements and the music reverberating around the room.
His deep chuckle sends shivers cascading down my spine. “Is that a challenge? Because you know how I feel about those.”
“It’s…not,” I stutter.
Tingles race across my neck when he presses his lips there. “You don’t sound sure,” he whispers against my overheated skin, and my legs almost buckle.
“I’m not one of your groupies,” I say, angling my head so I can see his face.
All playfulness disappears from his face. “I know you’re not.” His earnest tone goes some way toward reassuring me. “But you can’t deny we have chemistry,” he adds, sweeping his fingers along my cheek. Jerking his head back, he tosses waves of damp white-blond hair out of his face.
“I won’t lie about that.” I stare deep into his startling green eyes. “But I’m still not sleeping with you.”
He lowers his face to mine until there’s only a tiny gap between us. “Yet,” he whispers, as his tongue darts out, licking across the seam of my lips.
Gingerly, I lift my hand, trailing my fingers softly across the dark stubble on his chin and cheeks.
“Hmm.” Closing his eyes, he leans into my touch as we’re jostled from the side. We should probably leave the dance floor, but I don’t want to break this connection. I feel like I’m getting a glimpse of the real Dillon, and I like it.
He moves us back a little to where it’s less crowded, and he continues to hold me like this, with his chest to my back, as we dance, grinding against one another, uncaring who sees. There is no sign of Ash, Audrey, or Cat, but I’m not worried. I know my Irish friends will look after my bestie, and I’m sure they just left to give us some privacy.
Dillon’s hands wander, palming my stomach, lingering on my hips, and gliding up and down my arms as we gyrate together to the sound of our own beat. Nibbling on my neck, he licks a path up and down my sensitive flesh with his hot tongue, and low moans trickle out of my lips. His expert fingers work my body into a tizzy until I’m no longer in control. My head is thrust back on his shoulder, my eyes are closed, my body flush against him, and I’ve never felt more wanton or more desired. I’m majorly turned on by the sizzling touch of his hands and the feel of his hard-on digging into my back. I’m seriously considering eating my words and dragging him someplace to have my wicked way with him when something cold and sticky unexpectedly hits my face and my upper body, and I scream.
“What the fuck, Breda?” Dillon snaps, as I blink my eyes open, wincing when liquid drips from my eyelashes into my eyes. The black-haired skank smirks at me, holding an empty pint glass in her hand. Looking down, I see my shirt took the brunt of her jealousy. Sopping wet cotton adheres to my stomach and my chest like a second skin. Warm hands grip my upper arms as Dillon turns me around to face him. He curses, glaring at Breda over my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I need to go.” I attempt to wriggle out of his arms, but he holds me tight, piercing me with a stern look.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m a fucking mess, Dillon,” I say, in case he’s missed the obvious. I bet I’m rocking a great pair of panda eyes, and last time I checked, that shit isn’t attractive.
“I have a spare shirt in my bag, and I’ll take you to the staff toilets to clean up. She’s not ruining your night.” He slides his hands down my arms, turning one of my palms over and lacing his fingers in mine. It’s a sweet gesture, one I would never have thought him capable of.
“C’mon, Dillon. It was only a joke,” Breda says from behind me.
Keeping my fingers locked in Dillon’s, I turn around to face her.
“You’re a clingy jealous cunt, and I’m sick of your shit,” Dillon seethes, fixing her with the full extent of his disgust. “You’re not welcome around us anymore, so fuck off.”
“You’re dumping me forher?!” she screeches, waving her hands around like a crazy person. Her eyeballs are rolling around in her head, and she’s clearly high as a kite.
“That would imply we were in a relationship, which we aren’t,” Dillon hisses. “We fucked one time, Breda.One time, and it was a big mistake. I’ve tried letting you down gently, but fuck that shit. You don’t get to throw your drink in anyone’s face. Grace hasn’t done anything to you, and that shit you just pulled is not on. In case it’s not clear, I’m not interested in you, now or ever, so back the fuck off before I have you thrown out.”
He doesn’t wait for her to reply, leading me off the dance floor to a staff door at the back of the room. A burly man with heavy eyebrows and a thickset mustache guards the entrance, but he nods at Dillon, stepping aside to let us enter.