Dylan(67)

“For now. Maybe for a year, to decide what to do and get my life back on track.” She tucks a strand of hair behind an ear. “So much has changed. So much to do.”

Something is different about her. I try to figure it out. Her sweater is falling off one shoulder, baring her smooth flesh. She’s wearing skin-tight, ripped jeans and tall boots. Her hair is caught in a messy ponytail. All this is new, and still…

Her face. It’s so fresh and beautiful. Her skin is bare of any powders and creams, letting faint freckles show on her cheeks. She has a dark smudge—of maybe ink?—on the tip of her nose. Her lips part, and I can’t look away, dying to kiss them, aware my jogging pants are growing tighter by the second.

“I do need to go back to my apartment,” she says, and I force my mind out of the gutter.

“Thinking of moving back in?”

“No, I… No, I’m not going back. I can’t stay in a place that Sean has access to. I just need to grab my things. I have my papers, my laptop, my books, my clothes …” She glances down at herself and makes a face.

“I love how you look now,” I say truthfully.

She pulls a loose strand of hair into her mouth and chews on it. It’s oddly charming. And madly sexy. “No, I’m a mess. I’m not even wearing lipstick. The printer broke down, and I had to change the cartridges. My hands were black. Took ten washes to get the ink off them.”

Well, that explains the ink smudge. “You look fine.”

“No make-up, my hair hanging like this… My parents would go into hysterics if they saw me.”

“Well, I’m not your parents.”

“Yeah. I noticed that.” A snort escapes her. “But I look terrible.”

“God, you have no idea…” I lick my lips, and allow myself to stare openly. “You’re so beautiful like that.”

“Like this? All dirty and disheveled?”

“Yeah, like this. With your hair down and no make-up, so I can see the color of your lips and the shape of your eyes. There’s nothing to distract me, no glitter and no fancy brands. I can see you.”

She ducks her head, but she looks pleased. A bit disbelieving, but glad.

The most beautiful girl in the world, and she can’t seem to realize just how pretty she is. That she’d be pretty in a trash bag or in my old ratty T-shirts or… or completely naked.

“So…” She shifts gear and steals a sideways glance at me. “You went looking for me? In case Sean decided to show up?”

“Yeah. Of course I did.”

Her blue eyes darken. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

I shrug. “Left early. What the hell was I supposed to do, let the bastard get his hands on you?”

“I just…” Her mouth twists into a crooked smile. “Didn’t think you cared.”

I frown at her. “Tess… I do care for you. Dammit.”

She looks straight ahead, at the road, as if focused on driving, but her mouth trembles.

“Tess…” I suck in a deep, bracing breath. “I know I fucked up, but at least believe this much.”

She shakes her head and leans back in her chair, pulling on the handbrake. I look outside. We’re home, but I make no move to get out of the jeep. There’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask—ever since that fateful gala night when she fell into my arms and then stood between me and her ex as if she’d take a bullet for me.

As if she expected a bullet from him.

“This Sean Anholt…” Her gaze shoots sideways at me, her eyes wide. “What did that motherfucker do to you?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Look, I know I don’t deserve your trust. Not yet. But I swear to God, Tess, I’m gonna find him and hang him from his balls, whether you tell me how he hurt you or not, because he did. You can’t lie to me.”

She clenches her slender hands on the leather-bound wheel and worries her lower lip with her teeth. That’s always a distracting sight, but I’m both too worked up and too exhausted to do anything about it.

Besides, she’d probably curse at me and leave, never to return.

“He did hurt me,” she finally admits, not looking at me. “Forced himself on me. But that was years ago.”

I smash my fist into the dashboard, and she yelps. “I’ll fucking kill him.” Rage colors my vision red, makes my pulse pound in my head. Makes the world spin.

“No, Dylan.” She reaches for me, and her hand hovers an inch from my face, never touching. “Don’t.”

I lower my fist, breathing hard, and force myself to stillness. “I’ll make him pay.”