Physical Distraction (The Physical Series Book 3) Page 13

  Because Dylan knew that if he didn’t do it now, he’d never be able to let her go later.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sloane peered through the bedroom window that was etched with frost, an icicle hanging precariously from the gutter outside, sending a shiver down her spine. She slurped down another gulp of her coffee, which was now luke-warm, her body chilled from the draft in the room, and the frigid temp outside the apartment.

  Cold, also, from waking naked and alone in her bed, Dylan nowhere to be found. Her stomach was in knots, a massive chunk of ice lodged in her gut with worry over what could have happened overnight to make him leave.

  The expectations of what this was between them had been made clear. She was the one who stressed the point that she wasn’t looking for anything serious. Just a fling. No big deal.

  So why was she so freaking upset over his early morning departure? She was acting like a jilted lover over his disappearance, when there was probably a dozen reasons he left without saying goodbye.

  Neither of them mentioned what was happening between them or what would occur in a matter of weeks when she had to return to San Diego. In fact, with the way things were coming along with the bar, it was likely that the remodel and restoration would be done in record time, allowing a sale to go through before she knew it. And that’s what she wanted. Right?

  Because her life wasn’t meant to be lived in a dingy bar in South Boston, where it was colder than a witch’s tit. She needed the sun and the sand of California. She needed her friends and her family. There was nothing to keep her here.

  But the idea of returning to the mess she left behind was as appealing as running down the street naked in a blizzard. And all of that had to do with Dylan. Uncertainty sprang inside her mind like a cork from a bottle. Had she ever even felt the same way about Blaine that she did about Dylan? Had Blaine ever treated her with the same consideration, kindness, and generosity that Dylan did?

  Looking back at her time with Blaine, it became apparent just how self-absorbed and snobbish he was. He was always jockeying for a position within the “right circles” and wanted to be the center of attention at any function they attended together, even if it was one of the school’s fundraising auctions. In fact, now that she thought about it, Blaine never showed any interest in her teaching aspirations. It was always about him and his career. Getting a position at the most prestigious school. Being selected as the most influential teacher.

  And when she was nominated for the Rookie Teacher of the Year at her school, he made her feel small and undeserving of the nomination with his belittling remarks. He’d said the only reason she was nominated was because the male teachers and students thought she was hot. That they nominated her for her fabulous pair of tits.

  Sloane laughed it off at the time, not one to confront or to pick a fight with Blaine. But now the anger simmered beneath the surface. The bitter shame of feeling lower than him and undeserving of an accolade that she felt she worked hard for. And yet she stuck by him for years, through college, and supporting him while he worked to get his dream job in the pretentious private school.

  And now the anger somehow bled into a feeling of loss over Dylan’s unexpected departure. How had she read things so wrong with him? The night before he’d been so sweet and chivalrous, helping her to take care of the young woman too drunk to manage by herself, and then returning to the bar to tuck Sloane in her bed.

  And the incredible middle-of-the-night hot, erotic, mind-blowing sweaty sex. She had never been touched like that by a man. And not only that, but she felt so connected to Dylan. He was a demanding lover, but with every touch, every command, he was one-hundred percent focused on her pleasure. Pushing her limits and taking her to higher heights of sexual bliss. And yet, there seemed to be something more. She sensed he was holding something of himself back. Withholding a part of himself that he didn’t want her to see.

  A loud thump, thump, thump, followed by an even louder expletive had Sloane nearly jumping out of her skin and dropping her coffee cup to the floor. Then the sound of a drill, deafeningly loud, filled the entire room, the noise coming from the bar downstairs.

  Dylan.

  She turned to head down the stairs and realized she was only wearing a robe and her slippers, her hair in a messy bun atop her head. Looking down at her robe-covered body, she mentally shrugged her shoulders. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her in less. Plus, she wanted to talk to him right away to find out why he left her in bed alone.

  She stepped first into the kitchen to fill up a mug of coffee. Dylan was probably in need of a caffeine pick-me-up after the night he shared in her bed and an early morning start.

  Her slippers made soft shuffling sounds as she made her way down the stairs, quietly opening the door at the bottom to step into the bar hallway. The area was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the kitchen stove, and another portable light in the main room where the work was being done to install some new overhead fixtures.

  Turning down the short hallway, she rounded the corner and was stopped short by the sight in front of her.

  It wasn’t Dylan’s back that she saw. It was his friend and colleague’s, Jason.

  Disappointment ricocheted through her heart like a broken arrow. The emotion weighed on her like a heavy, wet cloak as she stared at the man not Dylan standing high on a ladder, his arms stretched overhead to the ceiling.

  Instead of seeing Dylan’s tight muscles flexing across his back muscles, she saw Jason’s white wife-beater tank exposing a sample of his paunchy, beer-belly stomach.

  The fantasies she had of finding Dylan at work, his ripped jeans hung low along his hips, his tool-belt slung low to accentuate the V-like indentations of his waist, and the fullness of his perfect ass came to an abrupt halt when Jason’s voice broke through her daydream.

  “Morning, Ms. Fitzgerald. Hope I didn’t wake you.” He had the same accent as Dylan and his father, scrolling over the R as if it were non-existent.

  Sloane cinched the lapels of her robe in one hand, dropping the coffee cup from her other on the bar next to her.

  Glancing around the room, hoping she’d just missed seeing Dylan off in a corner somewhere, she looked back up at the man teetering on the top rung of the ladder near the ceiling.

  “Oh, you didn’t. You’re fine. I brought you some coffee if you want some. I’ll just leave it here for you.”

  He was replacing the old bar lighting fixture, the dated relic from the sixties when avocado and mustard were the hottest in color trends, and adding the newly purchased dropped pendant lighting. She’d found them on close-out at a wholesaler and fell in love with the beautiful swirl of decorated blown glass. She’d also found some matching wall sconces that would be placed along the exterior of the room, allowing for subtle ambiance instead of the dank dungeon atmosphere.

  Glancing around at the bar and dining areas, Sloane got a burst of pride at what she’d accomplished in such a short time. While she could honestly say she had grown up appreciating style and beautiful art due to her mother’s influence, Sloane herself had never had the need to put that knowledge to good use.

  Accomplished, maybe. Yet here she was, the reluctant owner of a broken-down bar, embroiled in the middle of a complete business restoration and revamp, living in a city she’d never even been to visit before, having a fling with a local electrician, and feeling like she could take on the world at the moment.

  Because looking back over the last two weeks, she had for once in her life done something for herself. On her own. Without the aid of her well-to-do and influential parents. Or the support of her one-time fiancé.

  Since arriving in Boston, Sloane dug in and pulled herself up by her bootstraps, learning the nuances of running a bar and taking steps to build herself back up after the blow she suffered to her self-esteem by Blaine’s infidelity and careless misuse of her trust.

  And trust was a hard thing to earn and give. Case in point, Dylan’s disappearing act h
ad her questioning whether she once again misplaced her trust. Everything he’d done up to last night made her believe he was trustworthy and that he didn’t want anything from her besides her time and presence. And yet she felt discouraged when it wasn’t Dylan downstairs this morning, but instead it was one of his employees.

  God, she was so stupid to have moved so quickly. Her heart just wasn’t made for this kind of thing.

  Dylan was right. Now that they’d slept together it would be uncomfortable between them. And he was avoiding her like the plague.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dylan was avoiding her. He knew it. That’s why he sent Jason to the bar this morning. But fuck, after last night, there was no way he could stick to his guns if he were alone in her presence. He’d be ready to beg at her feet for just another taste within five minutes.

  He literally couldn’t stop it from happening if he put himself in that position. Sloane was too intoxicating. She smelled too good and tasted so delicious, his mouth watered just thinking about it. Remembering how only five hours earlier when his lips and tongue had explored every part of her incredible body.

  Dylan promised himself he’d keep his distance. He had to create some space between them so that the sting of her impending departure wouldn’t feel as shitty as he knew it would. Plus, her magnetic allure was just too strong of a pull that if he stopped over at the bar, he knew he wouldn’t be able to summon the strength to resist it.

  Sadly, his willpower was shit.

  Although he called Jason that morning and told him to get his ass over to Fitzgerald’s to start the work while Dylan worked at a different client location, here he was, several hours later heading back over to Sloane’s bar.

  Dylan walked in the bar and scanned the low-lit room when he noticed the light on in the bar’s back office. His feet moved him forward without his permission, passing Jason along the way. His friend simply grunted and gave him a head nod, which passed as a greeting. Jason would be leaving soon to return to the other project across town.

  Dylan expected Sloane to be pissed. He’d left her without word at four a.m. and hadn’t even had the courtesy to call her this morning. She’d have a right to be angry and he was willing to take his punishment. He deserved it for acting like an asshole. An asshole who obviously couldn’t be trusted to stay away from her.

  Light appeared through the crack in the office door and Dylan heard Sloane’s voice speaking to someone in a hushed, agitated tone. He was about to tap on the door to announce himself when he heard Sloane curse. His eavesdropping couldn’t be helped.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do, Trista? This is just completely fucked up.” There was a pause, and a quiet sob could be overheard coming from her throat.

  “I know…I know,” she cried softly. “I fucking hate him, too, Tris. But I need to think about my life now. My future career. I’m stuck in a corner and I don’t know how to get out of it.”

  None of what he overheard made any sense to him. What the hell was she talking about? He knew about her break-up with her ex. But what was so bad that it could hurt Sloane’s teaching career?

  Uncertainty crept into his thoughts, as he slowly turned away from the door and went back to the bar, leaving her to her privacy. Dylan wasn’t about to let on that he’d overheard anything. Whatever she had going on back in California was none of his business. He wasn’t going to mettle into her affairs. If she wanted to tell him, then she would.

  No sooner had he returned to his work up on the ladder when he heard Sloane moving about behind the bar. He turned his head toward her when he heard her audible gasp of surprise. Dylan caught her gaze, and his heart flipped upside down as he took in her tear-streaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

  “You just gonna stand there and gawk, or did you need something?” His voice was lined with sarcasm, hoping it would bring a smile to her sad face and elevate her mood.

  “I’m not gawking,” she protested, stepping closer to the bottom of the ladder. He watched from his perch as she glanced around the bar, presumably in search of Jason. “I’m just surprised to find you here. Where did Jason go?”

  Dylan descended the ladder rungs, hitching up the tool belt and replacing the screw driver in its pouch. The worry that was etched in her face made him want to beat the shit out of whoever created it. But shit, maybe it was him.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I had to get over to Rylie’s to feed the dog.”

  There was a beat of silence as she seemed to assess his response. She eyed him quizzically before tilting her head up at him. “Dog? What dog?”

  Dylan considered his next response carefully. “Except for Christmas Eve, I’ve been staying over at Rylie’s house this week taking care of their dog, Karma. That’s why I haven’t spent the night with you. I figured she’d have to pee like a racehorse and I was right.” He gave her an amused laugh, knowing that was only half the reason he wasn’t there this morning. The other reason he wasn’t going to mention.

  “I see,” she offered, leaning up against the counter. “So you weren’t avoiding me this morning because you felt uncomfortable spending the night with me? I mean, it’s no big deal, because it’s not,” she mumbled, her hand giving a little flip in the air. “You just left without saying good-bye…and I thought…well, I thought things were pretty good between us.”

  Dylan moved slowly toward her until he stood directly in front of her, his hands automatically encircling her waist. He pressed his forehead against hers in a reassuring, yet cautious, gesture.

  “Aw, Sloane. It is good between us. Almost too good.”

  “Too good? What does that even mean?” Her voice held a bit of cynicism in it. And he deserved that.

  “Shit. I don’t know,” he said, pulling back from her face, but keeping his hands planted to her hips. “You’re different, Sloane. This is different between us. I’ve broken all my rules with you. I think about you all the damn time. I can barely see straight when I’m around you. It’s like you’ve cast some magical spell over me. Fuck…this is not coming out right. I’m not very good with putting this into words.”

  Sloane bit her bottom lip, stifling a smile that began to edge at the corners of her lips. She looked cute.

  “I think you’re doing a pretty good job with your words, Dylan.”

  “Yeah, well...I’ve always been better with my hands,” he chuckled, giving her a wink as his hands moved from her hips to the front of her shirt, undoing several buttons. His fingers traced the smooth expanse of her collarbone and cleavage, now exposed to him. “And my mouth.”

  She let out a throaty moan when his lips and tongue worked along the sensitive skin and made their way to the soft flesh of her breast. She leaned back against the ledge of the counter, propping her elbows behind her to allow him access to whatever he wanted take.

  “Sloane.”

  Dylan lifted his hands to her face and cupped her cheeks. She was make-up free, fresh faced and perfectly flawless. As if she’d just stepped off a California beach, sun-kissed and warmed from the sun’s rays. Once again, Dylan had no idea what she was doing with a guy like him.

  Sloane was the sweet, wholesome school teacher and he was a former-enlisted Marine, blue-collar electrician from Southie. And right now he wanted to do very bad things to the teacher.

  “Do you know what you do to me? How fucking crazy you make me feel? I actually planned to stay away from you today. And look where that got me. I deserve to be punished.”

  He skimmed his thumbs over her cheekbones before sliding a thumb to her warm, waiting lips. Her mouth opened, tongue venturing out to lick along his calloused thumb pad. Dylan jerked in surprise, catching the heated desire in her Hershey-colored eyes that were locked in on him.

  He knew what she wanted. Knew exactly what she was doing when her sweet bubblegum lips wrapped around him, her tongue running circles, mimicking what she’d done to other parts of his body just hours earlier.

  The pounding in his chest felt like his heart w
as going to burst out, his pulse starting to hammer, every muscle in his body tightening up. She sucked his thumb into her mouth and her lips curved up in a sexy smile, all of his thoughts scattering out of his brain.

  Dylan was so focused on what she was doing with her mouth that he didn’t see her other hand reach for the front of his pants. Placing a palm over the obvious arousal, Sloane cupped his denim-covered erection. His head fell back and a deep, hungry groan escaped his throat at the torture she was dishing out.

  He could’ve been standing there for two seconds or two hours for all he knew, the feeling was that good, her touch sucking him into a sexual vortex. With the restraint he didn’t know he possessed, he slowly pulled his thumb from her mouth, placing his lips over hers, immediately losing himself in a deep and needy kiss. It grew hot and explosive instantly. His body demanded that he take her fast and hard.

  “Dylan,” she murmured, breaking the kiss momentarily, her hand working at the button of his jeans. “I’m going crazy, too. I need you so bad.”

  That was all he needed to hear. The truth that he wasn’t alone with this insatiable desire. That she was affected just as much as he was made his chest constrict and his brain short-circuit. Stepping back from between her legs, he nearly choked out a laugh when he looked down to see her pout, and then couldn’t resist leaning back in to nip the delectable peach-flavored bottom lip.

  The tool belt around his waist had to go because it was seriously impeding his ability to get closer to Sloane, making it impossible for him to focus with the arousal running rampant through his body. And it prevented him from getting to the spot between Sloane’s legs that he sorely needed to reach.

  Sloane’s deft hands had already unbuttoned his fly and eased down his zipper, her gaze and flushed face communicating her intentions. “Undo my tool belt,” he growled, his voice husky and feral.

  With fumbling hands, she yanked the metal belt buckle through the leather loop, grunting in frustration when it got stuck momentarily. Dylan chuckled at her impatience. Finally getting the leather undone, she unfastened the strap in front of his straining fly. The brush of her hand against his erection pulled a low hiss from his throat. Dylan caught the devious smile that etched across her lips as the weighted-leather pouch hit the ground with a loud thunk.