Tempting Her Best Friend(21)

So much for that theory.

Fisting his hands at his sides, Dillon held onto his control by a thread. He’d tasted her lips, heard the sound she made as she gave herself over to the kiss, seen her pupils wide with desire.

And now they were alone.

In her hotel room.

With nothing but her overanalytical mind and mere scraps of cloth standing between them and a night of raw passion they’d never forget.

It was the perfect storm, all the elements coming together at the right time to create a rare situation of inevitability. All it would take was one powerful wave to capsize her doubts. To drag her under to the place where the physical senses drowned out things like reason and logic.

Then it became clear what he had to do. He had to take away her ability to think, to overanalyze and worry. If he could do that, then her body would have the chance to speak up and tell her what it wanted: him.

He took a step closer, watching her almond-shaped eyes grow round. The slow, halting progression to her reminded him of when they played Red Light, Green Light as kids. Only instead of her calling out the commands, he reacted to her roller coaster of emotions. A slight release of tension meant “green light.” An increase meant “red light.”

True to her affinity for control, she’d always preferred being the traffic light. He’d never minded. It was more fun for him to see how fast he could get to her, sprinting as hard as he could every time she yelled green.

“Dillon…” Her voice held a tinge of warning as she desperately tried to keep the reins he’d always let her hold. Until now. “You said you wanted to talk.”

“I changed my mind,” he said. “I’d rather play Red Light, Green Light.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Okay, maybe not the sexiest of statements, but it could work. And considering the wary look on Alyssa’s face, she wasn’t sure what to make of it either. Good. If he kept her off-balance, he’d have the upper hand.

“You remember our old favorite game. Only the rules are slightly different now.” Dillon took another step in her direction. Her gaze darted to his feet, then back to his face. “The green light is automatic, and it stays on until you call it red.”

At last, he closed the last foot between them. Their breaths mingled and the sharp bite of alcohol-infused lemons mixed with her warm vanilla-sugar scent. It curled through his nose and saturated his lungs.

Steeling himself, he gave her the last warning he’d allow her before making good on his intentions. “But be damn sure you want me to stop before you call it. Because not only will the game stop. Everything stops. I’ll go home and pretend none of this happened.”

“Wait.” Her hands came up to rest—but not push—against his chest. Again, her body betrayed her words, furthering his resolve. Limpid pools of aqua blue stared up at him, her whispered protest as feeble as her physical one. “Just let me think—”

“You think too much, Aly,” he said. “And I’m done waiting.”

Holding her head, Dillon crushed his mouth to hers and unleashed the passion he’d stifled for so many years. Her lips yielded, but her frame remained rigid. He could almost hear the gears turning between her ears. He needed to ramp things up if he was going to get those things to take a damn break. A challenge he happily accepted.

Sliding one hand down to her ass, he loosely gripped a fistful of hair with the other. Then, without warning, he tightened both hands and pulled her in hard. When she gasped in surprise, he slanted his mouth and thrust his tongue inside to meet hers. He half expected her to rebel—to push him away and call a stop to everything—but she did just the opposite.

At last, Alyssa let herself go. Her arms snaked up around his neck, and she melted against him with a barely audible whimper. It was the sound of her ceding defeat as her brain surrendered to the wanton needs of her body.

She dropped her head back as she exhaled his name, half prayer, half plea. It slipped into his ears and sank into his memory to live there for the rest of his days. If nothing happened beyond that point, he’d at least have the sound of his name on her lips, whispered in the heat of passion.

He kissed a trail down her neck, the long day’s worth of stubble rasping over her skin. He licked at the hollow of her throat and then continued between her collarbones as he reached beneath her hair and unhooked the straps of her dress to bare her breasts to him.

His mouth descended on a pale pink nipple, causing her to moan and rake her nails over his scalp. Goddammit, he wanted to go slow. Take his time and memorize every inch, every freckle, every curve. He’d dreamed of this moment for years and now he finally had the reality. But he couldn’t control himself. He felt like the driest of deserts and she the rarest of summer rains. He had to soak up as much of her as he could before she moved on to greener pastures.