Against the Ropes (7 page)

She ran her fingers through his hair as his tongue wreaked havoc on her senses, bringing her nipple to a rigid peak. The smell of sandalwood and faint sweat encompassed her, and she inhaled deeply with the realization of how much she missed it.

His hips thrust into hers, and as she felt his arousal, she gave up trying to be rational and handed herself over to the experience. Lifting the hem to his T-shirt, she let her hands run over the ridges and valleys of his strong back.

“Oh God, Regan,” he whispered. “You taste so good.”

The woman on the television prattled on about the importance of breathing when in Triangle Pose, and then Regan heard a hum. It didn’t register what it was at first, but Dylan stopped kissing her and lifted himself off her.

“Max’s home,” Dylan said quietly, pulling her shirt down. He held out his hand to her and brought her to a sitting position, and Regan recognized the hum as the garage door opening.

As he smoothed her hair back behind her ears, he said, “Can you help him with the groceries? I . . . I can’t with this.”

He gestured down to his hips, and Regan groaned inwardly at the raging erection making a tent of his shorts.

“Of course,” she whispered.

Dylan put his finger under her chin and lifted it so that she had to look at him. “I want to finish this, Regan. I want this bad.”

Slowly, her more rational side was taking over. It wouldn’t be a good idea. It had gone too far, and she wouldn’t put her heart out there for him to stomp on again.

“Dylan—”

“Shhh,” he whispered, putting his finger to her lips. “I know you want this too, Regan. I can feel it. Leave your door unlocked tonight.”

He stood and walked down the hall to his room. The door from the garage to the house opened at the same time she heard the click of Dylan’s.

She got to her feet and walked down the hall. Her panties were soaked, and sexual frustration made her shake.

“Hi, Max,” she said, trying to smile.

“Hey, honey.”

She went out to the car to get groceries and took a deep breath. This . . . thing between her and Dylan had to stop.

“You okay, Regan? You look a little flushed.”

She picked up a couple of bags and turned to Max. “I’m all right. Just doing some yoga.”

“Did Dylan do any?”

She nodded. “For a bit.”

“Good. I thought we’d have some of my famous chicken enchiladas for dinner. How does that sound?”

“Delicious.”

After putting away the groceries, she set the living room furniture back in place. Her body had quieted somewhat, but there was still the hum of sexual energy just below the surface. What she needed was a shower and to get her head straightened out.

“Max, I’m going to shower really quick, and then I’ll be out to help you with dinner, okay?”

“No worries, honey,” Max said. “Take your time.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dylan lay on his bed, willing his body to relax. He heard the shower running in the bathroom next door, and he imagined Regan wet and slick with bubbles running down her torso. At that second, he’d give his left nut to be in there with her. But he couldn’t think about that now, or he’d never get rid of this erection.

Knowing that Regan was very flexible, he thought he had been very clever with the yoga. He would get to watch her slim body move, bend and flex, and he was certain he could fake his way through it.

He had been wrong. Yoga was hard. His body wasn’t supposed to bend like that. He equated his torso to a large, round tree trunk—it just didn’t twist or curve. Instead, it was a solid, hard mass.

However, when he saw how Regan moved through the poses with relative ease, he wasn’t about to be bested by her and had really tried to get through the workout.

That was until she started laughing. As he watched her flat on her back in a fit of laughter, he couldn’t help himself. Her giggles bathed his soul in calm, something he hadn’t felt since he fucked everything up with her five years ago.

As he watched the tears stream down her face and her smile light up the room, he knew he couldn’t stay away from her any longer, despite his best intentions. She didn’t push him away when he hovered above her, and so he had lowered himself on top of her. Her lips were soft, and it felt like he had found his home as his body melded into hers.

Damn Max. Both he and Regan had been so caught up in the moment, he had no doubt they would have made love right there in on the living room floor.

Made love? Yes, that’s exactly what he would have done. He had never stopped loving Regan, and he knew that she was a very important part of the person he was, and his future.

Now he just needed to make her see that.

Tonight wouldn’t be about physical contact. Tonight he would go to her and he would beg for forgiveness and explain to her what she meant to him.

The shower turned off and Dylan looked down at his hips. His erection still raged, and he realized that he was going to have to give himself a little relief, which should be a quick task with Regan’s scent still buried in his skull and the memory of her soft skin on his fingertips.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“I got you a bottle of wine, Regan,” Max said as dinner was being served. “Chardonnay, right?”

Regan eyed the bottle and then glanced over at Dylan. She shouldn’t drink around him if he had a problem. “That’s sweet, Max, but I think I’ll pass.”

She looked over at Dylan again, who stared at her. “I’ve never known you to pass up a glass of wine, Regan.”

“I . . . I just don’t . . .”

She wanted a glass of wine. Her nerves were still humming from what happened that afternoon on the living room floor.

Dylan walked over to her and got in close. As she was leaning against the counter, there was nowhere for her to go. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him.

“Under no circumstances are you to change your way of life on my account,” he said softly. “I choose not to drink because I do stupid stuff like cheat on my girlfriend and beat people up when I do. I lost everything that meant anything to me because of it, and I won’t have that happen again. You having a glass of wine or two, or even three or six, is not going to change my choice, and it won’t affect me in any way.”

With that, he went over to the refrigerator and pulled out the bottle. After a few failed attempts, Dylan finally found the drawer where the corkscrew was kept, opened the bottle, and found a wine glass in the cupboard.

“See how civilized we are?” he asked as he poured. “We even have wine glasses.” He handed her the glass with a grin.

“You’re sure about this?” Regan asked.

“Of course. There isn’t a problem, Regan. It’s a choice.”

Regan glanced over at Max, who watched the whole interaction from the corner of the kitchen. He smiled and winked at her and then brought the salad to the table.

They sat down at the dining room table and a few minutes into dinner, Regan said, “The enchilada’s are great, Max,” but she really didn’t taste them at all.

She sipped her wine and thought about what was going on between her and Dylan. It had been so easy to fall back into his arms, to let the passion and desire take over and let Dylan take her to places of ecstasy. It would probably be in her best interest to leave Dylan and Max and go on with her own life. Her feelings for Dylan were still so strong, and she wasn’t going to put herself out there to be hurt again. Trust was not a word she associated with him.

As they ate, Regan had noticed that Dylan kept trying to catch her eye, but she studiously ignored him, focusing instead on Max as he talked about the training for the next day.

“Two PT sessions with Regan and a yoga session as well,” Max said, pointing his fork at Dylan. “And put your napkin on your lap, boy. What do you think this is, some slop house?”

Regan felt her cheeks warm as she thought about how the last yoga session had ended.

“I don’t know if my shoulder can take all three,” Dylan said as he placed his napkin in his lap. “The yoga session was definitely intense.”

Regan studied her plate, her cheeks now on fire.

“Well, then that shows me that you need to continue with it,” Max said.

“I agree, Max,” Dylan said. Regan could feel his stare on her. “It was intense, but it felt really good. Really nice. Like it was something that I’d done before, but I’d forgotten how good it could feel.”

Regan wished he would just shut up with the innuendos.

“Good. Do it more often.”

“I’d like to,” Dylan said.

Regan finally glanced over at him, and he was staring at her with an absolutely wicked grin on his face.

“As much as possible, in fact,” he said.

Their eyes locked for an instant, and Regan grabbed her wine glass, taking a long swallow.

“Are you okay, Regan?” Dylan said with a glint in his eye. “You look a little . . . heated.”

She could feel his hands on her hip, his mouth on her breast, as well as the taste of him as they kissed as if it had just happened minutes ago, not hours before. Her body warmed further when she thought of his thick arousal pushing against her hot core.

That was the thing with Dylan: she had never been able to get enough of him, and here she was frustrated about what had happened earlier and dying for more.

What she needed was space from him. After finishing the rest of her wine in one long gulp, she said, “I’m feeling . . . warm, Dylan. I think I’ll turn in early tonight.”

His eyebrows shot to his hairline, and then his eyes narrowed. “You must be impatient for bedtime. It’s only seven.”

She shrugged. “I guess I could take it or leave it. Right now I just feel like lying down.”

Dylan’s face fell for a moment, but then he smiled. “Okay. Sweet dreams.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Regan lay in bed, studying the ceiling and thinking about what Dylan had said about alcohol.
I lost everything that meant anything to me because of it.

Did that mean her, or did that mean his freedom? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to that.

What was going on between her and Dylan was purely physical on his part, of that she was certain. Or at least she hoped so as she couldn’t allow herself to acknowledge the feelings that were creeping in. But that was wrong. The feelings had always been there; they had just laid dormant for a long stretch of time. Being around Dylan brought them to life, and she hated that.

For the sake of self-preservation, she needed to get out of here.

Dylan had two more weeks until his fight and his shoulder was getting better. If he kept up with the yoga, he should do okay.

But he needed to do better than okay; he needed to win for Max’s sake. Regan wondered if Dylan had any idea how much was riding on this fight for Max, and decided that he most likely wouldn’t saddle Dylan with his problems.

She had taken the test to get her Arizona PT license, and was waiting for the results. Once she had those in hand, she would start looking for a job.

Or maybe she should just run back to Indio. The thought depressed her.

A light tap at her door interrupted her deliberations, and she turned and looked at the clock. It was 8:30 p.m. Surely Max wasn’t in bed now, was he?

She got up and opened the door to see Dylan leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed at his chest. The white T-shirt popped against his brown skin, and he wore his half-grin that made her want to say yes to anything he asked.

“Hey,” he said in a low voice.

“Hi.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk with me.”

A walk? What happened to finishing what they started? God, her head was such a jumbled mess.  She had just been thinking about leaving, and now she was disappointed that he didn’t want to take her right then and there. Maybe some fresh air would do her good. “Sure. Just let me slip on my sneakers.”

They walked out the front door and down the driveway to the sidewalk. The neighborhood was quiet, the soft glow of the street lamps and porch lights illuminating their way.

Dylan walked with his hands stuffed in the front of his jeans, and she crossed her arms over her chest wishing she had brought a sweatshirt. Spring in Phoenix was a beautiful time of year, with the highs in the eighties during the day, and a little chill settling in the air after the sun went down.

“I was just messing around at dinner,” Dylan said, glancing over at her with a grin.

“I know.”

They walked in silence for a bit, and Dylan stopped when they reached the neighborhood park. He climbed the steps to the play structure, and she followed. Once they had reached the top that resembled the tower of a castle, he sat down against one wall, and she squeezed in, settling against the opposite wall.

It was a cocoon-like feeling, being in such a small space with such a big man. Light from the upstairs window of a house filtered through the slats in the tower, casting shadows on Dylan’s face. She felt like they were the only two in the world, and it felt right.

“Is Max asleep already?”

Dylan nodded, and took her hand in his.

They sat in silence for a moment as he rubbed his thumb over her pulse.

“Dylan—”

“Max told me to leave you alone,” Dylan said quietly as he stared at their hands. “When you first agreed to do this, to come work with us, he told me not to touch you. I believe the words he used were ‘no funny business.’“

Regan didn’t know where this conversation was headed, so she remained quiet.

“And I tried, Regan. I tried hard, but Max’s threats aren’t enough to keep me away from you.”

He slowly brought his gaze to hers. “I want you, Regan. I want us to go back to the way things were before I fucked it all up.”

Tears stung in Regan’s eyes and her breath caught in her throat. She realized that she wanted that too, but there was the huge trust issue hanging between them, and she didn’t think she could ever put her heart in his hands again.

“I don’t think I can do that, Dylan,” she said quietly.