I Love How You Love Me (The Sullivans #13)

With that, he took both of their cups over to the sink and rinsed them out, a man who had clearly been raised not to expect anyone to wait on him. She stood, too, hoping it wasn’t going to be awkward when they said good night.

“Thanks for a really great interview and for introducing me to your family. I really did have a good time tonight.”

“I did, too, friend,” he said as he headed out her door. “See you tomorrow night.”

Another man might have pressured her into being more, but Dylan had made her laugh instead with his use of friend.

“You were a handful as a kid,” she said, “weren’t you?”

At the bottom of the steps, he laughed, too. “Why do you think my parents were always so happy to see me sailing away?”

Closing the door behind her, Grace knew she had no right to feel disappointed that he’d left without even trying to sneak a kiss. He was simply doing what she’d asked him to do: treating her like a friend instead of a potential girlfriend. But she had barely slid the bolt closed when she heard footsteps and then a knock.

“You’re back.” She looked up into his eyes, an even deeper, darker brown than usual, as all the butterflies came right back.

He held out her bag with her notebook and recorder. “You forgot this in my car.”

“Oh.” Her voice was flat, heavy with disappointment she couldn’t figure out how to hold back. “Thanks. I would have been in trouble without this tomorrow.”

“It doesn’t feel right to me, either,” he said softly.

Doesn’t feel right? “You don’t want to work with me on this story?”

“No, the story is fine. Leaving like this, like you don’t mean anything more to me than just some journalist, that’s what feels wrong.” He reached for her hand with his free one, just that one simple touch sending heat searing through her. “I was trying so hard tonight to play it cool, to not scare you away by coming on too strong. But all I’ve ended up feeling like is a liar. And I can’t stomach the thought of lying to you, Grace.” He stroked a thumb across her palm, making her shiver despite the heat swamping her system. “So here’s the truth—I’ve wanted to kiss you from the first moment I set eyes on you, and every moment we’re together, I only want it more. But, damn it, I won’t do anything to hurt you when I know someone else already has. So if you don’t want to me to kiss you, and if I’ve somehow read everything wrong since Tuesday when I could have sworn we already had a connection, tell me now…and I’ll make myself go without learning if your mouth tastes as good as it looks.”

His touch, his good looks, even her intense attraction to him hadn’t been enough to send her over the edge. But when he told her he wouldn’t steal a kiss that might hurt her—that was when her defenses fell all the way. Especially when she was still flying from the beautiful wedding at his parents’ house.

He was making this her choice. Not one that came from guilt. Or because she felt like she owed him a kiss after the evening they’d just shared. But simply because she wanted to know his taste, too.

One kiss with Dylan didn’t have to mean forever. It didn’t even have to be a promise of more. And maybe if they kissed now, it would keep them from blowing it out of proportion during the rest of their interview.

So instead of grabbing her bag, she grabbed him.

Sliding her hands into his dark hair, she pulled his mouth down to hers and poured all of her pent-up hunger, and need, and wonder at the beauty of the wedding she’d been a part of tonight into the kiss. For a few precious moments, she let herself give in to the madness, to the fiercest, sweetest desire she’d ever known as she nipped at his lower lip with her teeth, then met his tongue with the wet slick of her own. He moved close enough that she could feel the heat and the strength of him all along the front of her body. She drank in his groan, breathed in his clean masculine scent, gloried in his hard muscles pressed against the length of her.

Her head spun with the taste of him, her blood heated with desire, and her chest clenched with desperate need. She wanted more—so much more that she was flat-out stunned by her need for him—and, just for a few moments more, couldn’t stop herself from taking their kiss even deeper as a low hum of pleasure sounded in her throat.

Both of them were breathing hard by the time she managed to get a tenuous grip on herself and draw back. She’d never seen eyes so dark, so filled with desire. Eyes that watched her so carefully, as if he was afraid she’d spook. But after all she’d been through over the past couple of years, she decided she would let herself have this one perfect kiss. And she wouldn’t regret it.

Even if they could never have a second.

Desperate not to make a big deal out of it, she tried to joke, “If you sail as well as you kiss, no wonder you’re a boating legend.”

His hands were still on her hips as he said, “You’ll find out soon.”

“You want to take me sailing?” The thought thrilled and worried her in equal measure. She knew he was right, that she should experience for herself being on one of his boats with him. Unfortunately, something told her that it was going to be really, really difficult to keep her secrets—and Mason’s—their own while out on the ocean with Dylan.

“You can’t write this story without sailing with me at least once.”

“Once I understand more about what you do and about your boats, I’ll join you for a sail. But it would probably be best if it took place as our final interview.” That way she’d have plenty of time to brace herself against the power of the cockpit confessional.