Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Everything feels so different than it did at the fundraiser, which was the last time we attended an event like this. We’ve come so far since then. Dylan is no longer cautious and closed-off, acting like everyone is either out to get him or a possible connection. He’s friendly and open, laughing easily, telling funny stories, and impressing everyone with his knowledge of the city. I half wonder if he’s always been that way and I just haven’t been privy to that side of him or if now that we’re together, something’s changed for him like it has for me.
I’m always proud to be with him, but witnessing him relax feels like an important gift, like a trust he’s giving not only to me but to my friends. They might not understand the unique treasure that he is, but I do.
As for me, I feel steady, settled into the moment with Dylan at my side. What’s growing between us feels… real. And I couldn’t be happier. But I’m always waiting for the other foot to drop. It’s just too good. It’s surreal. I got the dream job AND the dream man. I don’t feel worthy of it, like this simply can’t be real.
Eventually, Ami’s mom, Jennifer, clinks a fork to a glass and invites us all to sit down at the long table off to the side of the room. We make our way over, and Dylan pulls out a chair for me, helping to push me in after I sit. He sits beside me, his arm naturally draping over the chair. He’s claiming me. It might appear casual, but it’s oh, so very bold, and I love it.
Dinner is delicious. It’s a fusion menu, so there’s a mix of spices and flavors I’ve never had together, but everything is really tasty.
“Here, try this,” Dylan requests, holding up a forkful of his tilapia with chimichurri sauce. When I open my mouth, he feeds the bite to me, and I moan at how tender and tangy it is.
When I look back at the table, I find Ami and Maggie staring at me with stars in their eyes. “You two are so cute,” Maggie teases and sways back and forth like a school girl, her short black dress swooshing around her thighs as she does, and I can’t help but grin.
Ami nods. “My birthday wish is to have a man look at me like Dylan’s looking at you.”
Surprised, I cut my eyes to Dylan to see how he’s looking at me, only to find it’s the way he always does—with an intense blend of hunger and interest. Like I’m the only person in the room. Or at least the only one he cares about. Everyone else could disappear in a blink, and I’m not sure Dylan would notice or give a shit.
I lean forward, pressing a quick peck to his lips, needing to let him know that I see him too and appreciate him more than he could know. I lean back, smiling, only for him to catch my jaw in his palm and pull me back in for a longer kiss. It’s still appropriate given our audience, but it makes me melt and wonder how soon Ami’s gonna cut the cake so we can leave.
When Dylan releases me, I’m drunk on him, and he looks down at me, his eyes darkened. A single blink later, they brighten and he smiles, cockily knowing all too well where my thoughts have run.
“Birthday wish amendment,” Ami says pointing her perfectly manicured finger. “That’s what I want.”
She gets her chance after dinner when the restaurant staff bring out a large cake covered in sparkling candles and we sing to her. Ami flashes me a wink, takes a big breath, and then blows the candles out. The smile on her face says her birthday celebration is turning out to be everything she wanted, and I’m so glad.
As it gets later, the party moves to the dance floor when a DJ takes over, promising to play a wide variety of songs and rhythms that’ll have us dancing all night. To my utter shock, Dylan holds his hand out to me.
“Would you like to dance?”
I gawk at him. “You dance?”
I don’t know why that surprises me so much, but it does. I wouldn’t think he’d have the time or inclination to learn to dance. Heck, before this week, I wasn’t even sure he knew how to let loose.
But I slip my hand into his, trusting that he can lead me… on the dance floor, in the bedroom, and honestly, anywhere.
I’m right. Dylan is a strong lead, and though I don’t know how to salsa, I find myself doing it, or at least I think I am. I only manage to step on his foot once, and with every misstep, we both laugh. It’s easy and light hearted, but the closeness of him and this moment lights my heart on fire. Whatever it is, I follow Dylan around the floor, knowing that at this point, I’d follow him into hell if he asked me to.