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Dylan’s Redemption(95)



She hadn’t stopped trembling when the world tilted and she landed on top of Dylan, lying down his full length. Her head rested on his chest, his heart thundered beneath her ear.

“God, woman. I think you tried to kill me.”

“I’m not entirely sure this isn’t heaven.”

He smiled and followed the line of her spine with his fingertips. She laughed and squirmed and it felt good to giggle. She sank her teeth into his chest and used her tongue and lips to sooth the small hurt.

“For a woman with limited experience at love play, you’re doing a good job of driving me crazy.” He cupped her bottom and pressed her hips down to his and let her feel him growing hard against her belly.

She circled her hips to tease him. He adjusted his back against the carpet again and she smiled and playfully nipped at his chin.

“Do you think we might actually make love in a bed one of these days?” Her husky voice didn’t mask the teasing tone.

“Oh, I don’t know. We seem to do just fine in cars and on the floor. Eventually, we’ll make it to a bed.”

“The car was difficult to maneuver. I couldn’t touch you like I wanted,” she confessed.

“You did just fine tonight, honey. You’re doing fine right now.”

Unable to help herself, she never stopped touching him. Strong muscles bunched beneath her hands as she rubbed up his arms and over his chest.

“We could try the whole car thing again,” she teased.

“Your Porsche might be a little cramped.”

“The Mustang is in the garage. I don’t drive it often, but it’s one of my favorite cars.”

He leaned up and stared down at her, resting her chin on his chest. “Are you telling me you have my old Mustang in your garage?”

“It came up for sale last year. I drove through town and saw it with a FOR SALE sign. I contacted the old guy who owned it and bought it. I took it to a garage and had them fix it up. It’s not the car you remember. It’s better. I had it repainted. Cherry red with black racing stripes. Greg calls it a hot rod. He’s lusted after it ever since I brought it home in mint condition.”

“How did I get so lucky to find a woman who loves muscle cars?”

“I love that car. We can take it to see Hope tomorrow. I think it would be appropriate.”

He couldn’t help it. He kissed her softly on the lips and held her to him and softly kissed her again and again. “I love you.” He couldn’t get over how romantic she could be. He’d never have guessed she’d have so much sentiment when she endured so much heartache. She cherished the good things in her life because she’d had so much bad. She gave up the bad and hoarded the good.

He sat up with her, settling her in his lap. He picked her up and carried her to the stairs.

“Where are we going?”

“Upstairs to bed. I’m not finished with you yet.”

“Don’t you have to go home to Will?”

“He’s with Lorena tonight. I’m staying with you. I have a lot of making up for lost time to do.” He kissed her all the way up the stairs and loved and worshipped her long into the night.





Chapter Thirty-Two



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THE MORNING AFTER their first night back together, they went to the cemetery as planned. Dylan drove the Mustang with her sitting quietly beside him. He held her hand, keeping the intimate connection between them. They placed flowers on their daughter’s grave and stood at her marker for a long time, Dylan brushing his fingers softly through her hair. Both silently said a prayer for Hope, letting her know her parents were there. Dylan held Jessie’s hand in quiet comfort. Before they left, he finally got to tell Hope how he felt, softly whispering, “I love you, sweetheart. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I promise I’ll take care of your mother always.” He kissed his two fingers and pressed them to her name etched in stone.

From that day on, she and Dylan committed themselves to each other. They spent every weekend at her home. For three months, every Friday night he and Will showed up for dinner, and they’d spend every moment together until Dylan and Will left again on Sunday evening. During the week, she and Dylan both worked and kept in touch. Dylan came by her work site and ate lunch with her. She still found sweet notes on her car in parking lots and flowers on her doorstep. In every little way, he let her know that although they weren’t together every night, he thought of her every day.

She worried about him and the work he did. He’d had to break up a few fights and stop some hairy domestic violence incidents. He always reassured her he was trained for his job and always careful. He reminded her he had a lot to live for, namely her and Will. Still, the gun strapped to his side constantly reminded her something could happen to him. The calls in the middle of the night asking him to come and help with a situation always put her on edge. He always came back in one piece, if a little banged up on occasion. She couldn’t help the worry. She loved him.