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“You can hide here as long as you like, Jenny,” Dylan said quietly. “You’re always welcome.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“It’s nothing to me if you wear a groove into the coastal walk while you fret over thinking yourself frigid. Though I will point out that most people, when they want to know about sex, take to the internet. I’m not necessarily advocating that you watch porn, mind. I’m not saying you shouldn’t, either. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “The last thing I want to do is watch porn.”

“Because you’re too good, is that it?” And he laughed, though he didn’t find it funny. The notion of Jenny and anything pornographic was enough to turn him inside out. “Saint Jenny, Our Lady of Restraint?”

“Of course not.” She frowned at him. “Porn is just fucking. I want to know what it’s like to be fucked properly.”

And he wanted to say something to break the tension inside him. Between them. He wanted to make them both laugh the way he usually did. That was what he should do, and he knew it. It was the only thing that would keep them steady. On even ground, where they needed to stay.

But he didn’t do it.

Jenny stared up at him, and something in her face changed. Maybe it was because he wasn’t grinning. He wasn’t hiding himself. Maybe the truth was, he was tired of all the hiding he’d done all these years.

For a moment, here in the dark with the light of the bridge in the distance and the opera house rising like a wave behind them, he was, for once...himself.

Unfettered.

Unapologetic.

Unleashed, at last.

Jenny made a soft, small noise. Shock, perhaps.Need,something dark within him insisted.

“I didn’t come all the way here to talk about sex,” she said her voice resolute.

“Fucking,” he corrected her, and he really did sound like himself then. Not the happy-go-lucky version of himself he played for her. “The proper fucking you’ve gone without all this time, in fact.”

He watched her swallow, and the way her throat moved. And even that felt like her elegant hands around his cock, holding him. Massaging him.

Driving him fucking crazy.

“I didn’t jump on a plane and fly here to talk about it,” she said, a strange insistence in her words. “I don’t want to talk about it. I want to do it.”

He didn’t help her. He only waited, his gaze on hers, so intent he was sure he must have seemed harsh to her. But she didn’t back down.

“And I don’t want to do it randomly,” she said, her expression every bit as intense as he felt. As he was and always had been. “I want you, Dylan. I want you to show me what it’s like.”

CHAPTER FIVE

JENNYCOULDN’TSEEMto regulate herself. Her temperature, the way she shook, her wildly pounding heart.

Because Dylan was still Dylan. But once again, she couldn’t quite recognize the man she knew on the face of the man who stood there beside her.

This Dylan was dangerous.

And the voice that whispered that word inside of her wasn’t Erika’s. Not this time. It was some base of feminine knowledge she wouldn’t have believed existed if she didn’t hear it so clearly. It understood when she didn’t, when she couldn’t, that whatever this was—whoever he was when he changed this way—he wasn’t the easy, lazy, comfortably relaxed friend she knew so well.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and there was that intensity in the way he asked it. And the way he looked at her. And the way he held himself while he did it. “You want me to show you how to fuck?”

Jenny felt her body shift. A shudder turned into a thrill, and wound its way through her as if connected to that same dark intent she could see all over him.

She was aware of her skin, and the way the cool sea air danced over it, soft like a touch. There was some kind of emotion making her eyes feel full, and her breasts scraped against the material of her shirt, tucked beneath her long jumper. Her nipples were so hard she ought to have been freezing cold, but she wasn’t. She was too hot, if anything. A new kind of furnace fanned out from between her legs, where her pussy was a great ache of need and hunger, and all of this would have shocked her if she’d had a moment to process it.

She’d thought she’d been turned on before. She really had quite liked the sex she’d experienced so far.But you knew,something in her whispered.You always knew you were missing something.


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