“YOU CAME BACK.”
Dylan spoke the three simple words with a mix of what sounded like shock and relief.
Carrie frowned as she stepped through the front door of his house. “You told me to,” she reminded him.
“Yes, but I thought you agreed just to shut me up.”
“That might be true. Also, I lied about having a boyfriend,” she blurted.
“I suspected as much. I’m glad to be rid of Randall.”
She laughed softly. “You might regret me coming over.” She pulled at the front of her cable-knit sweater. “I’m covered in dog hair and who knows what else. I stink and I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. Not exactly great company for—” what were they supposed to be doing here? “—anything.”
“I have plenty of regrets in life,” he told her. “You here tonight could never be one of them.” He smoothed a piece of hair away from her face. “But you do smell a little gamey.”
“Oh, no.” She started to turn toward the door. “My sisters told me to go home. Why didn’t I listen to—”
Dylan wrapped his arms around her from behind and pulled her close. “I want you here in whatever shape you show up.”
She resisted the urge to sag against him. Truly, she was exhausted. “I need a shower. The dogs were in filthy conditions. We bathed them when we got back to the rescue, but now I’m the one who’s a mess.”
“A shower is easy enough to manage.”
He took her hand and led her through the quiet house toward the master bedroom, which was on the main floor. He’d told her the house had come furnished, but the bedroom looked just as she’d imagined it would if he’d picked out the decor. The furniture was dark and solid, a pale gray comforter spread over the bed. Dylan’s bed.
This was the part where Carrie’s lack of dating experience made her feel like a bumbling idiot. She stood silently in the doorway to the connected bathroom and watched. Was she supposed to start undressing while he turned on the water of the walk-in shower and gathered towels? Invite him to join her?
The thought of showering with Dylan had nerves zipping along her skin. At the same time, her muscles ached from the work she’d done, and she could actually smell herself. Not quite a recipe for sexy times.
“You look like you could fall asleep standing up,” he said, his tone laced with amusement and sympathy. “Tonight couldn’t have been easy.”
She shook her head. “I’ve only gone on one other rescue with Meredith. It’s heartbreaking to see the conditions those animals live in before they get to her.”
“She does remarkable work.”
Carrie dashed away a tear when it tracked down her cheek. Great. Now she was crying. “I’m sorry,” she said automatically. “I’m just tired. This can’t be what you had in mind. I should go—”
“Don’t apologize.” Steam began to rise in the air, heating the small space. “The water’s hot so take as much time as you need. I want you here, Carrie. In any condition.”
She nodded, afraid to speak around the emotions clogging her throat. The door clicked shut as Dylan exited the bathroom. She undressed and climbed into the shower. The water felt amazing and her tears mixed with the hot spray as she let herself succumb to the emotions from the night.
She washed her hair and body quickly, planning to make her time in the shower efficient. But her limbs grew heavy as another round of tears bubbled up inside her. It wasn’t just about the animals. Every emotion she’d been running from caught up to her in one moment. She hadn’t broken down like this since her father’s death and the aftermath of learning his secrets. She’d kept moving, always moving. Her role had been helper, righting the wrongs Niall had inflicted on the town with his selfishness.
She’d never allowed herself to stop and consider what she’d lost or what she’d never truly had in the first place. Why now? Why did it all have to come crashing down around her in Dylan’s shower?
She should be having this breakdown in the privacy of her own home, preferably with a carton of ice cream in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.
Instead, she stood under the slowly cooling stream of water, trying to pull herself together. Carrie had no idea how long she remained there, but she startled when the glass door slid open a few inches and Dylan flipped off the water then pushed a towel toward her.
“I think you’re ready,” he said from the other side of the shower door, his voice a gravelly rumble.
She dried off and wrapped the fluffy towel around her, sliding the door fully open.
His blue gaze met hers, searching her face in a way that made her know he’d heard her crying, even though she’d tried to muffle the sound of it.
“I’m leaving a T-shirt and gym shorts on the sink for you,” he said. “Your clothes are in the wash.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” She clutched the towel more tightly to herself. Goose bumps rose on her skin under his scrutiny. “This is... I’m not sure what to do next.”
“Get dressed,” he commanded then took a step away from her.
A yawn escaped her as she glanced at the pile of clothes. “I’m not sure I have the energy for that. Apparently, bawling your eyes out is exhausting. I guess that’s why I’ve avoided it for so long.”
He chuckled. “In general, I find feelings overrated and taxing.” He picked up the shirt and pulled it over her head. A part of her wanted to protest. She was a grown woman and obviously capable of dressing herself. But she allowed him to help, grateful for a few minutes of not having to take care of herself, even for such a simple task.
He didn’t break eye contact with her as she put one arm and then the other into the shirt, allowing the towel to drop to the floor as the T-shirt grazed her thighs.
“Shorts next,” he said as a parent might to a child.
Heat flooded her cheeks as he knelt in front of her and she stepped into the soft cotton. “I can manage,” she whispered but didn’t shrug away his touch. The truth was she felt too damn tired to move a muscle. Even if she wanted to make an escape at this point, she didn’t think she had the energy to make it out the door.
As if sensing that she was on the verge of collapse, Dylan scooped her into his arms as he straightened, one arm supporting her back and the other behind her knees.
“I’m making a fool of myself,” she said miserably. “I was supposed to come back for a booty call.”
“Is that all you were interested in?” Dylan asked, sounding entertained as he moved into the bedroom.
“My only interest at the moment is sleeping.”
“I can help with that.” He bent and pulled back the comforter and top sheet on his big bed.
Carrie sighed as she sank against the soft mattress.
“Sleep as long as you want,” he told her, tucking the covers around her. “I’ll take the couch.”
“No.”
He gave her a funny look. “I know you aren’t up for anything but sleep, and I want you to feel safe with me. I promise I don’t care why you’re here, Carrie. I’m glad you are. No pressure.”
“It’s a huge bed.” She yawned again. “Just get in, Dylan. I’m too tired to argue right now.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up. “Bossy,” he murmured then turned off the bedside lamp.
A moment later she felt the mattress sag on the opposite side of the bed.
She was still embarrassed and more than a little disappointed at how this night had turned out. Then Dylan moved closer, tucking his body behind her and draping an arm around her waist. “Is this okay?” he asked.
“More than okay.” Enveloped in his heat, she drifted off to sleep.
THREE-ELEVEN IN the morning according to the clock on the unfamiliar nightstand. Carrie blinked several times to clear her head. This wasn’t her bedroom.
A rumbling breath from behind her had her alert in an instant. Memories from earlier flooded her mind. Her mental and physical exhaustion, the tender way Dylan had taken care of her. She turned carefully on the mattress, trying not to disturb him.
Not that she had much to worry about. Dylan lay on his back, one arm bent above his head. In the soft moonlight she could see his chest rise and fall in rhythmic breaths. It had been over a decade since she’d seen his body. He was both familiar and not. In the ensuing years since he’d left Magnolia, Dylan Scott had become a man.
His shoulders had broadened, and lean muscles defined his arms, even in sleep. It seemed almost unfair for someone to have that golden tone of skin in winter, like he’d come back to town after years of living in the tropics instead of the big city. A fine sprinkling of wiry hair covered his chest.
“Hey.”
Her gaze flicked to his face, where a small smile curved his full lips and his eyes danced with amusement in the soft glow of the light that remained on in the nearby bathroom.
“I was checking you out,” she admitted with a grimace.
“I noticed.” He turned onto his side, propping himself on one elbow. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. Embarrassed at how I was earlier. I should have gone home.”
“No.” He reached out and traced one finger along her cheek and jaw. “I’m glad you were with me.” His smile widened a touch. “Although you snore.”
She sniffed. “I don’t snore.”
“It’s cute.”
“No wonder you’re single.” She grabbed his wrist and shoved his hand away from her. “Your moves are awful.” But the moment she started to flip off the covers, he moved toward her. More quickly than she would have thought for a guy who’d just been woken from a deep sleep. She was suddenly pinned to the bed with Dylan over her, his warm body pressed against hers in a way that had every inch of her coming fully awake.
“Awful?” he asked with a deep chuckle. “That sounds like a challenge.”
Carrie licked her suddenly dry lips. “And are you up for the challenge?” she asked, barely recognizing her own voice.
“You decide,” he whispered and then claimed her mouth. His tongue melded with hers as the kiss became hot and demanding. His hand pushed up under her shirt, and she gasped as his fingers grazed the underside of her breast, sending quivers spiraling through her.
He urged her to lift her back and pulled the shirt over her head. Gazing up at him, she forgot about being self-conscious.
All thoughts other than Dylan disappeared from her mind. There was no worry over the estate or the town or what was left of her family’s birthright. Dylan might not be her forever, but right now she wanted anything he could give.
She wanted to take her pleasure and dismiss all the stress of real life for a while. In this bed Carrie didn’t have to be dutiful or helpful or anything but a woman with needs.
Needs she had no doubt this man could more than fulfill, despite her teasing.
She wanted to feel alive.
Without another thought, she hitched up her hips and shimmied out of his boxers.
Dylan swore under his breath as he took in her naked body, his gaze filled with appreciation. She’d never felt more beautiful.
Then he lowered his mouth to one breast and then the other, licking and sucking until she moaned and arched under him. Her fingers grazed along the tight muscles of his back. It felt as though all of her nerve endings were standing upright and singing his praises, and not just because it had been far too long since a man had touched Carrie in this way.
No one had ever made her feel the way Dylan did.
She tugged on the waistband on his boxer briefs, and he growled low in his throat when she pushed them down over his hips. The evidence of his desire for her was like its own form of foreplay.
Lifting away from her for a moment, he took his boxers the rest of the way off then grabbed a condom wrapper from the nightstand drawer.
“Expecting company in your new house?” she asked as he tore open the packet.
“Hoping,” he said with a sexy half smile, “that you might stop by for—” he kissed her like he’d been saving up his need for a decade “—anything.”
Her breath hitched at the vulnerability in his tone. This wasn’t exactly the Dylan she remembered. That boy had been at once cocky and sweet, patient with her inexperience but sure of his own control.
The man who covered her body with his felt different. Not just grown-up or world-weary, although she knew he was both of those things. This Dylan had experienced loss and tragedy; he’d made himself into a success, but she somehow understood it had come with a price.
The same way the choices she’d made had changed her from an innocent girl into the woman she’d become. So even if they returned to being enemies again tomorrow or at the end of the holiday season, for now she wasn’t ready to let him go.
“Are we good?” he asked, poised at her body’s entrance. “I only want this if it’s what you want, too.”
“More than anything,” she told him honestly and the way his face lit with relief and gratitude made her heart hurt just the tiniest bit.
Then he pushed into her, filling her body and her senses until their current reality vanished. All that was left was need and desire. They moved together like their bodies were made for each other, pressure building within her and around her until she wasn’t sure where she ended and Dylan began. Carrie rode the blissful wave until she couldn’t hold out any longer and her release crested over her.
She held on to Dylan, whispering his name and taking him over the edge with her.
It was everything she’d remembered and more. So much more, which she knew could only mean one thing. It would hurt so much worse when it ended.