Slammed (33 page)

“I’m sorry, Dylan,” she said. “Maybe if I’d said something when I saw those medications in Tahiti—” She paused and heat flooded her cheeks. “Um, yeah, I did snoop a little. I was worried about what drugs you were taking, but when I saw they were a prescription, I never even thought that there could be problems with drug testing.”

“Christ, Brooke, this isn’t your fault,” he said roughly. “It’s my fault, and only my fault.”

“Your doctor should have said something,” Matt interjected. “He knew you were a pro surfer, didn’t he?”

Dylan shook his head. “Nah. I mean, he did, I mentioned it in passing, but he wouldn’t be familiar with pro sports and rules and drug testing. I can’t blame anyone else.” He looked around the room, meeting everyone’s eyes unflinchingly. “I take full responsibility for this.”

“It’ll be okay,” Corey said softly. “I know it will.”

“Thanks, Cor.” He smiled at her and Brooke watched the interaction, seeing the affection between them, and also seeing the complete lack of anything…more. No attraction, no sexual sparks, no heat. Just friendship, pretty much the same as when he looked at Matt.

She bit her lip and looked down at the carpet. Maybe she’d overreacted to that whole revelation about what had happened between them. She shifted in the chair. It still made her a little uncomfortable. But that was in the past.

“Okay,” Matt said, rising. “I guess there’s not much more we can do right now. Fraya’s on it. Let us know if you hear anything.”

Corey stood too, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “Will you still leave tomorrow?” she asked Dylan.

He shook his head. “No. I guess I better stay in case there’s a hearing. There’s lots of time before the next event, and anyway, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to surf in it.”

“You will.” Corey smiled at him. “If you want to come over later, have dinner with us, hang out…just come on by. We’re there.”

“Thanks.” Dylan stood too and shoved his hands into the pockets of his loose shorts. He followed them to the door, and Brooke watched and listened. “Thanks guys, for coming,” he said to them in a low voice. “You have no idea how much it means to me.”

They smiled and nodded and then left.

Dylan turned back and looked at Holden.

Holden looked back at him. Then he looked at Brooke. “Ah! Brooke!” He jumped to his feet again. “Right! I have to go too.”

Brooke lifted an eyebrow.

“We’ll talk more later,” Holden said. “Listen, Dylan. What I said earlier. I’m here for you too. We’ll get through this.”

Dylan nodded, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He slapped a hand on Holden’s shoulder as he walked him to the door too. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

“I’ll work on a media release,” he said. “Talk to you later.”

And then the door closed and she was alone with Dylan.

Dylan shoved a hand through his hair and let out a long, slow breath of pent up tension. “Well,” he said. “This has been a crazy day.”

“No kidding.”

They looked at each other. He wasn’t sure where to start. What to say.

He walked over to the window and braced one palm against the cool glass. Big mounds of white clouds floated across the blue sky.

His friends had come when he was in deep shit. Matt. Corey. Brooke. All the people he cared most about in the world, the people he’d pushed away. The people who easily could have believed the worst of him and left him to clean up this mess on his own. He wanted to deserve their faith in him. He wanted to be the man they all seemed to think he was. Especially Brooke. She’d believed in him. Defended him. Put her job on the line for him.

He’d won that championship fair and square and he was proud of it. If he lost the title because of this screw up…well, it would suck. Definitely. But it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Because it wasn’t the most important thing in the world. Surfing didn’t make him the man he wanted to be. The man he wanted to be was honest and honorable and generous and selfless. He had a long way to go before anyone would call him selfless, but he thought he’d made progress these last few weeks with the work he’d done, and even more that morning when he’d gone in to the Jackson Cole offices and gone to bat for Brooke.

He turned to look at her. She sat on the bed, watching him, her silky brown hair falling over her shoulders, her eyes big and warm.

He didn’t want to leave her. He didn’t want to leave San Amaro. And then it hit him that, yeah, his feelings were kind of the same as the last time he’d been there. Yeah, he was afraid to leave—but not because he was afraid of surfing. Not even because he was afraid of failing, because he’d just showed himself and the whole world he could win. What he was really afraid of—was being alone.

His selfish existence all these years, traveling from one place to another with no real home, partying with people he called friends but who really didn’t give a shit about him, seemed meaningless. The only people who really cared about him were right here in San Amaro. Corey and Matt, and why he was lucky enough to have their friendship he had no fucking idea, after what he’d done. And Brooke.

Amid all the excitement about winning, all the attention and adulation and celebration, he’d really been alone. No Brooke. No Corey and Matt. He didn’t really have any family. Despite all the throngs of people around him, hoisting him onto their shoulders, spraying him with champagne, hugging him and slapping his back and yes, coming on to him, he’d been alone. More alone than he’d ever been in his life.

So if he lost that title, he’d be okay—but only if he still had the things that really mattered. His friends. And Brooke.

“Are you okay?” she asked again.

He pressed a hand to the faint ache in his chest. “I think so.”

“Tell me about your accident,” she invited. She scooted over on the bed and sat cross-legged, tucking her knee-length cotton skirt between her legs. He sat on the bed, mimicking her pose, facing her.

“I did tell you about it.”

“Not everything. Corey and Matt told me a little. Did you have PTSD?”

“No.” She gave him a look and he shook his head, leaning forward a little. “I didn’t have an official PTSD diagnosis. I had some of the symptoms but not enough of them to say it was PTSD.”

“Oh.”

“It was bad enough,” he said with a rueful smile. “For a while I was afraid I was never going to be able to get back in the water and surf again.”

“But you did.”

“I did. I got some counseling, and as you saw, the doctor prescribed the Effexor. I took it a few times. Then I kind of tried other ways of medicating myself. Booze. Weed. Sex.”

He watched her reaction for signs of disgust or judgment. But she just nodded.

“Corey said that was why you wanted her to go with you, last year when you were here. Because you were afraid.”

He tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling, took in a breath and let it out. “Yeah. She’s right. She knew that then. I was terrified but I didn’t want to admit it to anyone.”

“So you weren’t really in love with her?”

“No.” He met her eyes and shook his head slowly. “No, Brooke. There was attraction between us, back then, but she’s my best friend’s girl and they love each other, and once I realized that, there was no way I would ever touch her again. I liked her, yeah. I mean, I still do. But just as friends.” He paused. “That bothered you, didn’t it?”

She pressed her lips together and bent her head, her hair sliding over her shoulders and over her face. “Yes,” she whispered. “I was…jealous.”

He smiled. He liked that. But he hated that he’d hurt her. “I’m sorry. I can’t take it back. It was something that happened a long time ago before I met you. I mean, met you again. But it really means nothing in my life.”

“Really?” She lifted her head and gazed at him. “Wasn’t that why you didn’t want to come back to San Amaro? You said it was because they were bugging you about being single, but that wasn’t the real reason, was it?”

He grimaced. “No. You’re right. I kinda fudged that a bit. Fuck.” He closed his eyes briefly as his gut tightened. “You’re gonna think I’m the biggest pussy in the world. But the truth is, I was scared to come back and face both of them. I had this idea in my head that Matt had gotten the girl we both wanted. Not to mention, it was totally awkward seeing them after what had happened and now they’re together and getting married. But most of all, I didn’t want them to feel sorry for me. I wanted them to know I’d moved on and I figured that was a good way to show them I had.” He opened his eyes and made himself meet her gaze head-on. “When I got here, I almost started having another panic attack. It brought back memories of last time I was here and how fucked up I was. But here’s the truth: Once I saw Matt and Corey…it was okay.”

She watched him with big eyes, her face serious, her pretty lips parted as she listened intently.

“It was okay,” he repeated. “I was happy for them. Matt and I are okay. Corey’s still a friend. I was over it and it wasn’t long before I realized I’d never really loved her. Because…” He swallowed. Damn. People thought he was brave and fearless going out on the ocean and surfing crazy big waves, taking risks and doing dangerous things. But that was nowhere near as scary as what he was about to do. “Because I love
you
, Brooke. And that was when I knew I never loved Corey. Not like that.”

She rolled her lips inward and her eyes got all shiny. Shit. She was going to cry. He wanted to haul her across the bed and onto his lap and squeeze the breath out of her. But he waited.

“I don’t want to leave, Brooke.”

She gazed at him with those luminous eyes. “But you have to.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see about that. If I end up suspended for a year, I won’t need to. But even if I do…I want to have a home. I want somewhere to come home to. I want some
one
to come to. You.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, a narrow silvery trail.

“Come here,” he said, voice husky. He held out his arms to her.

She shifted onto her knees and crawled toward him, curling onto his lap, and he wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. She felt perfect and right and lovely there in his arms, so small and soft. And yet he knew she was strong and dependable. Someone you could count on, to be there, to do the right thing. He so did not deserve her.

“I love you, Dylan,” she whispered into his chest. But he heard her. His eyes stung at the corners and he squeezed them shut and tightened his arms around her.

“I love you too, babe. So much.” He found her chin and tipped her head up, then bent to kiss her mouth, a soft, long, clinging kiss. She slid her arms around his neck and shifted closer still, her soft breasts pressing against his chest, and the kiss went deeper, hotter. Their tongues rubbed together as their mouths opened to each other. Blood rushed hot through his veins and his heart picked up a rapid percussion against his ribs. His dick hardened against her hip.

“Hey, would you look at that,” he said, long moments later, their foreheads pressed together, both of them breathing fast. “We’re on a bed.”

“How convenient.”

“I thought so too.”

They shared a smile.

He opened the three buttons of her loose top then slipped his fingers inside to stroke the soft skin over her collarbone, up to the side of her neck, then lower where her breast began to swell. His whole hand slid inside the top and cupped her shoulder, and he kissed her again, gently pushing her down to the bed. He moved over her, still kissing her, licking into her mouth, tasting her sweetness.

“I wanted to tell you,” he murmured against her cheek. “After that night when I went back to the party.”

“Tell me what?” She turned her face so he could kiss her cheek and nuzzle her ear, and her body shivered against his.

“That I love you. I realized I was so fucking jealous of you flirting and dancing with those other guys. I wanted to tell you. And then everything went to shit. They took you away and sent Tim instead, and you wouldn’t answer my calls.”

“You were jealous?”

He nipped her jaw and she gasped. “Hell yeah. That cop guy better not ever look at you again.”

She huffed out a laugh as he took her earlobe between his lips and tugged. “I guess I won’t go out with him this week after all.”

“What!” He drew back and scowled at her. “You were going to go out with him?”

“Well, we didn’t make an actual date, but he asked me out and I said maybe after the Pro was done. You were leaving and…”

He growled. “Fuck that.”

She laughed softly and twined her arms around his neck. “I didn’t want to go out with him, Dylan. I only wanted you.” She sucked briefly on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry I tried to make you jealous. I thought you were still all hung up on Corey.”

He let out a sigh. “Hell, Brooke. And I thought you’d realized what a mistake it was sleeping with me because I’m such an asshole.”

“Oh Dylan. I already told you.” She kissed his jaw, his cheek, beside his eye. “You’re not an asshole. I may have thought that when we met up in Tahiti, but it didn’t take me long to see what you’re really like inside.”

He buried his face in the side of her neck and breathed in her warm female scent. It filled his head, and warmth spread through his body, centering in the heavy ache at his groin. “Brooke, God, Brooke, I love you so much.”

The kiss went deeper, hotter, and he sank into it, sank into her, like he was drowning and only she could save him. He pressed her down into the mattress, his cock throbbing against her soft body, his hands buried in her hair, his thumbs on her cheeks. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and she parted her legs so they fit together even closer, his hardness at her center where she was warm and damp. When her heels dug into his ass, heat raced through his veins and he groaned.

Reluctantly he eased away from her to remove her clothing, then his own, and then they were both naked, skin to skin, her body soft curves and smooth skin against his. Her soft sounds of pleasure surrounded him as he kissed her again, tongues sliding together. He touched her everywhere, her soft breasts with hard little tips, the dip of her waist, the smooth line of her hip and thigh. Her kissed her and kissed her and kissed her until they were both panting and inside out with need.