Tempting Her Best Friend(9)

“Okay. Oh, wait,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen. A minute later, she returned with a ramekin of crème brûlée and a green pill bottle. “Take it with you, in case you want it later,” she said, handing over the dessert with a smile. Then she held up the bottle. “And this is melatonin. I know you’ve had a hard time falling asleep lately. These should help you get the rest you need.”

Dillon’s least favorite school subject was English, but he was pretty sure they called this irony. The only reason he’d been having sleepless nights was also the only woman who cared enough to try and alleviate his supposed insomnia. But he didn’t want to take pills, natural or otherwise. He’d rather fix it by fucking her until utter exhaustion forced him to sleep for as long as it took to regain his strength to do it all over again.

She has the same idea. She just doesn’t plan on doing it with you, dumbass.

He needed to beat feet and go a few rounds with the heavy bag in his basement before he put a hole in the drywall.

“Thanks, Aly,” he said sincerely. “You always take good care of me.”

“What are friends for, right?” Her smile held a hint of sadness before she raised up on her toes and kissed his cheek like always. And like always, it took all of his restraint not to turn his face at the last second so their lips would finally meet.

He shoved the pill bottle in his pocket, then made his escape, dessert in hand. Once on their shared porch, he waited until he heard her slide the locks home before walking through his front door immediately to the left of hers.

He made his way to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and held the dish of crème brûlée inches above the shelf. If he left it in his fridge, he’d always have his favorite dessert on hand. But seeing it there and catching an occasional whiff of its sweet scent would be a self-inflicted torture.

On the other hand, he could give in to his urges and indulge in it now. He’d have to live in the moment and revel in the creamy ecstasy, satisfied with committing every last second to memory in case it was the last crème brûlée she ever offered him. There’d be no room for regrets.

Dillon’s arm shook from the tension, and his teeth ached from clenching his jaw. With a final growl, he set the dish on the shelf and slammed the door.

“Fuck!”

Frustration surged through him like electricity. It lit up his veins and burned through his muscles. The only way he’d get any sleep in the near future would be to push his body to its limits with a killer workout. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to leave himself with just enough energy to drag his ass into a shower and off to bed.

Dillon glared at the fridge one last time before heading to his room to change.

He doubted it would be the last time, either.





Chapter Two

What a shitty day.

He woke up to a broken coffeemaker and didn’t have time to stop for his mandatory dose of caffeine on the way in because road construction had fucked up the Diagonal, making him late as hell. The morning meeting with his dad had been about Karlson throwing yet another wrench in their plans because the guy was too arrogant to let them do their jobs and insisted on micromanaging the entire project.

Then Dillon learned an entire shipment of building materials had mysteriously disappeared en route to the site. Now all he needed was a random rainstorm to further hinder the crew’s progress and the day could officially be called a clusterfuck.

“Hey, kiddo. You going to tell me what’s wrong or make me drag it out of you?”

Dillon looked up from his clipboard to find his twin sister. Barely older than him, she made a game out of calling him names that implied they were separated by years instead of six minutes. She had a spitfire personality with a brain to match and an uncanny ability to make people talk when they didn’t want to. If he couldn’t escape her within the first sixty seconds, he’d have no hope of keeping his problems bottled up like the rest of the male population.

“Thanks, sis, but I don’t have time to talk.” He held up the several rolls of blueprints he was holding. “Have to get these up to Dad, or he’ll have my ass in a sling.”

“Hey, you,” she called to a random guy in a hard hat, then took the plans right out of his hands. “Can you take these up to George for me lickety-split?” She hit him with her hundred-watt smile and the guy jumped to do her bidding like she’d promised to grant his every wish or something.

Turning back to him, she flicked her brown hair over her shoulder and said, “There. Now you have time.”

Dillon heaved a resigned sigh. He knew better than to fight her. Once she sniffed blood, she wouldn’t give up until you sliced open your chest and bled the whole sordid story. Thankfully, she wasn’t so much a shark as she was a surgeon. Maddy had a pretty good track record at putting people back together after they bared their problems to her.