“Thanks.”
The girl came out after a few minutes, remarkably fast for someone of her gender. “How did you find the concert?” Dylan asked as he once again took her hand to guide her out. He felt her tremble at his touch and even though she was still a kid in more ways than one, her very obvious reaction to him pleased Dylan immensely.
“It was my first, actually, and it was really great!”
Her face had brightened as she answered, and the sight made him blink a little.
“It was great...even if you didn’t see a thing?” he teased.
Bree choked on her laughter. “I couldn’t see the guy singing,” she confided, “but he had the most beautiful voice.”
“I don’t think so.”
Bree frowned. “He does have a great voice!”
“Nah. I think you’re lying.”
Unthinkingly planting her hands on her hips in an aggressive pose, Bree demanded, “Why do you say that?”
Several moments of silence passed.
Bree started to fidget, feeling like the older guy was just gazing at her and there was something about it that...
She swallowed.
Something was wrong. But not in a bad way.
Did that even make sense?
Bree swallowed again when suddenly the guy cupped her chin and made her look up. “You’re a liar.”
“I’m not.” Oh, drat. Why did her voice sound so husky all of a sudden?
“You are,” he countered calmly, “And I can tell you why.”
“Why?”
“Because if you found his voice beautiful then...”
Her eyes widened.
“You would have known that the guy on stage and me are the same person.”
And for the third time in less than ten minutes, Bree let out one of what would later be known as her infamous squeaks of embarrassment.
Chapter One
Four Years Later
“You didn’t answer your phone, babe,” were the first words she heard when Bree finally managed to extract her phone from her gym bag and answer the call. The ringtone, assigned only to a single name in her contact list, said it all. She was so going to kick herself if she didn’t answer in time.
The words sounded more cool than accusatory, but since this was Dylan Charbonneau they were talking about, Bree knew it was secretly more of the latter.
“Sorry,” she apologized sincerely, a little out of breath as she collapsed on the bench, thoroughly winded after her hour-long run on the treadmill. “I left it in my locker with the rest of my stuff while I was working out.”
Bree’s words over the phone made Dylan want to groan. It called to mind all sorts of erotic images, of the now fabulously shapely Bree in a sports bra and tiny gym shorts, her skin sleek with sweat as he took her from behind.
Somehow, ever since Bree turned eighteen late last year, his desire for her knew no bounds. Dylan dreamt of taking her virginity and fucking her hard almost every night these days, forcing him to take a cold shower way too often for his liking.
It was hell, but he knew a far worse fate awaited him if he tried to act on his needs.
Bree was special. Bree was untouchable. Bree would and should...never be his.
“Be careful that you don’t work out too much,” he cautioned lightly. “I don’t want you turning yourself into a toothpick—-”
“Like the supermodels you date?” she asked with acerbic sweetness.
Dylan chuckled, the sound intimate enough to make her shiver. “Don’t be a bitch, babe. You know they’re like that for work.”
“Ha!”
“Besides, I don’t give a damn if that’s what they want. It’s you I care about.”
He said the words so easily, Bree thought grumpily. Why couldn’t she do the same? Why couldn’t she just tell Dylan she loved him? They both knew he was – had always been – aware of her feelings for him anyway.
“Hmph.”
Dylan only chuckled again. “I miss you, you know.”
“Then come visit me so you won’t miss me any longer,” she said, doing her best to sound gruff. Just because the whole world knew she was head over heels in love with him didn’t mean she had to wear her heart on her sleeve all the time.
“If only I could,” he said, meaning it. He wanted so badly to fly to Florida and just be with her, but that would be suicidal. One look at a grown-up Sabrina Wyle and Dylan knew he would be on her and inside her, and to hell with the consequences.
“Why couldn’t you?” Bree winced at how whiny she sounded.
“Work,” Dylan said evasively, hating the fact that he was now forced to lie to her.
“Oh.”
And that sound of disappointment in Bree’s suddenly quiet voice? He hated that even more, but nothing was worse than knowing he was the reason for it.
Bree’s phone beeped. It was Saffi, reminding her by text message about having dinner in her brother Steel March’s fortress. Since the place was all corners and various shades of black, it couldn’t even pass as a mansion.