Love Emerged (Love Surfaced #3) Read online

  “Thanks.” I crack open his beer and hand it to him before doing the same with mine.

  I move over to the stove to finish preparing dinner when he comes up behind me. His breath tickles the nape of my neck, and I inhale sharply at his closeness.

  “You’re so domesticated,” he whispers, exaggerating his sniff of the aroma.

  “Did you doubt my ability to make you dinner?” I say, continuously stirring the wooden spoon in the marinara sauce.

  “I figured we’d have takeout—wait.” He moves over to my trash can, pretending to inspect it. “Did you buy takeout, and you’re pretending to make this yourself?”

  His rueful smile signals he’s joking, but I’m sure he’s still half-worrying about it.

  “I got into a cooking obsession a few years ago. Don’t get too excited. There’s only about ten meals I can still replicate.”

  “Is that an invitation for more dinners?” He leans his back on the counter next to the stove.

  I glance over to him before concentrating on the sauce again.

  How does this man make me feel so wishy-washy and schoolgirlish?

  “We’re friends, right?” I say.

  He pauses for a second, and I feel his eyes burning into the side of my face. I stare over to him, meeting his inquisitive eyes, to confirm that’s all I want.

  “Actually, your best friend is dating my brother.” He chuckles. “You know how many people I’ve had to tell that to this week?” He tips the bottle to his lips.

  I join him in laughter. “You think you’ve gotten plenty of questions? Everyone keeps stopping me in the restroom to ask about your stats.” I turn off the sauce, mixing it with the pasta.

  “Stats?”

  “You know, married, single, gay.”

  “What do you tell them?”

  “Gay.”

  He chokes on his beer, but he composes himself and swallows it down. “What?”

  I laugh and hand him a dish towel. “I say that I don’t really know.”

  “Thanks.” He smiles and hands me the plates, one by one, that I had out for us.

  “This is shrimp marinara. Hope you like it.”

  “I’m sure I will. I’m fresh out of college, Bea. Still used to pizza and ramen noodles.”

  All that does is remind me that he’s two years younger than me. Two years younger, and he has the connections of a senior exec. I wish it didn’t make jealousy ring through my body.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  I pass him the plate, and he holds it a beat longer than he should until I meet his eyes.

  “Always,” he says.

  My pulse quickens with his green eyes pouring truthfulness. It’s not something I’m accustomed to.

  “Why didn’t you stay in New York? I mean, your future was in your hands.”

  I follow him to the table by the window, and we each take our seats across from one another.

  “I wanted to come home, foremost. I’ve missed Detroit, my family. I didn’t want to become some number at AdSec, which is what would have happened.”

  “There’s no way you would have been a number, Dylan.”

  He shrugs, but I can tell from his sly smile that he knows I’m telling the truth.

  “I don’t know. I was ready for a change, I guess.”

  “A change of scenery?”

  Dylan doesn’t know that I overheard him talking to some girl by the elevator the other day. I tried not to eavesdrop, but his angry voice wasn’t hard to hear as I passed him by.

  “Maybe.” He places his fork back down and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I was in the middle of an unhealthy relationship that needed to end.”

  I’m shocked by his honesty in the moment, so much so that I become speechless. I’ve never in all my life laid my cards down like that to someone I barely know.

  “Oh.” I circle noodles around my fork and shove it into my mouth because I’m uncomfortable with the information.

  “Yeah, I wasn’t what she wanted. She made it known, and I made stupid decisions to keep her. Eventually, I saw her for who she was.” He picks up his fork again and begins eating. Just like that, he’s summed up a breakup in one sentence.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumble over swallowing my heap of pasta.

  “Don’t be. I’m much better off now, but she might have slightly screwed with my psyche.”

  “That’s good.”

  He cocks his eyebrow at me.

  “Oh, I mean, you’re better off, not the messed-up psyche,” I retract my comment.

  He laughs. “Thanks.”

  “Sure thing.” I give him a thumbs-up.

  He shakes his head. “I swear, I’ll never figure you out, Bea,” he says.

  A knot twists in my stomach because he’s not supposed to. No one is supposed to figure me out, so to speak. That’s why my wall is so high and dense—to keep wholesome guys like Dylan away.

  “I like to be mysterious.”

  “Can I ask you a question now?” He skips over my mysterious comment and pins me with his eyes.

  I lean back in my chair, alarmed by how serious he looks. “What?”

  “Why am I here?”

  His question makes me think about why I invited him over. My thinking, at the time, was that I wanted to see what he was like. Maybe, if I trapped him in my apartment, he’d screw me senseless, and I’d actually remember the full night this time around.

  No, no, that can’t be it.

  “I wanted to talk about our arrangement,” I answer.

  It’s his turn to lean back, placing that fork back down. “Arrangement?” he asks, crossing his arms over his impeccable chest.

  “The one where we agree to be friends with benefits.”

  He shakes his head. “No way. We decided friends.” He picks up his beer, downing a long swig.

  “You’re telling me that you never thought of me again? That you don’t want me anymore? One night was enough?”

  I purposely stick out my chest, and his breathing falters a little, showing me that I’m making progress.

  “That’s not the problem, Bea. Honestly, you’re hot as fuck, and I beat off to the image of you almost every night, but we work together now.”

  I slide out of my chair, placing my napkin down on the table. My finger trails along the edge as I make my way over to him. I watch his Adam’s apple move up and down in his throat. He slides back on his chair, leaving just enough room for me to swing my leg over his and straddle him.

  “Bea,” he chokes out, but his eyes haven’t left my hips since I started moving.

  “Dylan.”

  “We shouldn’t.”

  I grab his hands and place them on my hips, and then I slide my hands up his chest.

  “But how can we not?” I link my hands behind his neck.

  “We just don’t.”

  His fingernails dig into my hips, and a flow of warmth rushes through my body, right to my center. More forceful, he removes me from his lap and stands up, abandoning me at the table.

  “Dylan?” I question because the guy’s hand was inches from my ass the other day in the break room, he flirts with me, and he stared at my tits the majority of Thursday’s meeting.

  “Jesus, Bea, we’re not sleeping together.”

  “Maybe I should say you’re gay then?” I’m hitting below the belt, but I always do when someone hurts me, as though hurting them will make me feel better.

  He rolls his eyes. “I’m out.”

  Dylan

  I BARELY HAVE MY COAT on before I’m out of Bea’s apartment. I couldn’t stand the way she’d just straddled me. Not because I didn’t want her. My dick can’t forget her warm and inviting pussy. But we were clear. Maybe I wasn’t clear enough though because she doesn’t seem to understand that I’m not built to fuck a girl and not make her breakfast the next morning.

  When I reach my apartment, I see Brad’s truck parked outside. After calling off his wedding two months ago, he needed a new plan in hi
s life, and so far, that started with becoming my roommate.

  With the box I currently see him walking into the building, I’m guessing he’s jobless—again.

  I roll down my window. “Hey, jackass, get the ax again?”

  He doesn’t even bother turning around. He raises his hand in the air and sticks up his middle finger.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  He only raises it higher up in the air with more emphasis.

  Chuckling to myself, I park my car next to his truck.

  By the time I’m at the door, he’s dead bolted the door, leaving me no choice but to use my key. I turn the doorknob, but stop short by the metal chain.

  “Open the door, moron!” I scream, pounding on the door.

  Eventually, after a few hollers and bangs, he comes over, and I hear the metal slide, signaling he had the damn safety lock on.

  His retreating back ignores me, strutting over to the couch. He flops down, and his feet immediately lay on the coffee table.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I ignore the buzzing, figuring it’s Ava again. I sit in the corner chair and stare at him until he’s annoyed enough to look at me.

  “Yes, I got fired.” He blows out a long stream of air. “To make matters worse, a friend from college told me that he knew where Taylor was. I left my job early—hence, the reason I got fired. Drove down to Toledo just to find out that he was talking about another Taylor. Fucking prick probably did it on purpose.”

  Taylor would be Brad’s college girlfriend, the same one he screwed over. He has decided that he can’t live without her, so he’s been desperately searching for her.

  “I don’t understand it, man. No one knows what happened to her after college? Was she a loner?”

  “No, she was in a damn sorority, but either people aren’t talking, or she truly did run away after our senior year.”

  His eyes focus on the television, and I feel bad for the guy because anyone can tell he’s been trying to make amends for his mistakes, but he can’t get a leg up. Not that he helps himself in the job department.

  “I think people are purposely not telling you.”

  He shrugs. “Probably.”

  “You need a job again?” I ask the inevitable question.

  “Yeah.” He throws the remote onto the couch cushion. “I can’t believe I’m this much of a loser.”

  I decide not to take the bait of his insecurity and self-pity. With Tanner and Piper thirteen hundred miles away, I’ve become Brad’s confidant, his therapist, and I’m done with psychoanalyzing until the early hours of the morning. It’s the reason I agreed to go to Bea’s today, just to give myself space away from Brad.

  “Let me see what I can do at Deacon’s.” I stand up because the guilt from the ride home, in regard to Bea, is eating me alive.

  His eyes light up. “That’d be great. When or if I ever find Taylor, I really don’t want to be a loser with no job.”

  I smile because I can see his point, but never in my life did I think I’d be finding Brad Ashby, Olympic hopeful, a job.

  I go into my room, lie on the bed, and close my eyes. Pulling out my phone, I see it was Bea’s number that called me. I’m surprised she did after the way I’d scorned her.

  Without thinking too much about it, I dial her number and turn on my radio, so Brad can’t overhear me. She answers on the first ring, and I have to give her one thing. The girl does not play hard to get.

  “Hi,” I say when I’m answered with silence.

  She still doesn’t say anything, and I’m wondering why she called me.

  “Bea?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.” Her voice sounds like a little girl who just got yelled at.

  “I’m sorry I left. I shouldn’t have.”

  “Why did you? I don’t get it, Dylan. I don’t get you.”

  I close my eyes again because I’m not usually one for telling people embarrassing things about me. Maybe it’s the childhood memories of being different. Not being able to control myself, the annoyed parents’ eyes, and the kids who purposely ignored me.

  “We briefly tapped on the conversation about the breakup in New York. Well, the girl screwed me up pretty bad, and I’m just not right. To tell you the truth, I’m a nice guy, Bea. I’m not capable of just sleeping with someone and then leaving. I’m not the guy you want.” I release a breath, happy I got all that out without too much babbling.

  “Whoa, whoa. I don’t need all your personal information. You don’t have to share anything with me, except your dick.”

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  “Wait!” she yells.

  I keep the phone held to my ear, but I don’t say anything.

  “Dylan, maybe you need to give different a try? Maybe you need to work this girl out of your head by working me.”

  I must either be horny or delusional because she’s making sense.

  “Bea, if this ever turned into more or if you wanted more, I’d be upset that I used you for some quick fucks.” I’m truthful because I couldn’t handle hurting someone else the way Ava hurt me.

  “Believe me, Dylan, my heart was ripped out of my chest and buried a long time ago. I’m not meant to have a relationship, and I’ve grown to love that over these past few years.”

  The one problem is, even if Bea promises that she’ll never get hurt, I have to make sure that I won’t get hurt either because there’s something about Bea that intrigues me, something about her that I crave. But maybe she’s right, and it’s all sexual.

  “I need to tell you something,” I say.

  “Tell me when you come back over. I’m out of my jeans now, wearing my nightgown. It’s lacy—”

  “Bea, don’t tempt me.”

  “And see-through. Do you like black or red?”

  “I prefer nothing.” Unable to stop this undying urge in me to be buried deep inside her, I stand up from my bed, slipping back into my shoes. “I’ll be back over in twenty. Open the door in nothing.”

  “Where the hell are you going?” Brad screams as I walk right by him before fleeing the apartment.

  The drive to Bea’s seems like hours, but I’m parked and at her doorstep, praying my dick isn’t making this decision solely on its own. I mean, of course, it’s the majority decision-maker—I’m not an imbecile—but I hope my brain has rationalized this.

  I’ll tell her exactly why I was worried. I figure this is a sexual fantasy, one most guys have. As long as we fuck this out, I’ll be good, and soon, all the insecurities from Ava will be out of my head.

  My fist rises to knock, but Bea swings the door open, wearing nothing. Not a damn piece of clothing. She’s perfection. Her swimmer’s body—screech. I remember what I have to say.

  “So”—I step in, shutting and locking the door behind us—“I need to tell you one thing before we do this.”

  “Listen, Dylan, I’m trying to ignore the fact that you just saw me naked and could keep your hands off me.”

  I grip her upper arms, press my lips to hers, and then release her. She stumbles back, startled.

  “I might have been infatuated with you since my senior year in high school.” There. It’s out. Done.

  “Aw”—her hand covers her heart—“that’s sweet.”

  “When I was a senior, I came up to Michigan to one of Tanner’s and Brad’s swim meets. My parents wanted to stay for Piper, and there you were, on lane six. You fist-pumped when you and Piper won the relays, and when the opposing team booed you, you flipped your middle finger up at them. I’m sure you don’t remember, but I had to tell you because I felt like I was keeping something from you.”

  “You could have kept it from me. I’m not one for sentimental things. So, how about . . .” She takes her finger and slides it down the center of her breasts, inviting me to her.

  “I’ll do the touching.” I gently push her hand away from her enticing flesh and palm her breasts. My thumbs run over her nipples, and a moan escapes her throat.

  Wi
th her hands needing something to do, they move to my jeans, freeing me. I step forward as my hands slide down her sides to her ass. With my hands busy, she assists me in getting myself unclothed, and soon, her legs are wrapped around my waist.

  With my jeans pooled around my ankles, I struggle to toe out of my shoes and step out from them. Successful, even with my lips nipping on her neck, I walk us over to her breakfast counter, propping her up.

  “Oh.” She wiggles on the cold surface.

  I scooch her on the edge of the counter, my hands spreading her legs.

  “Put them on my shoulders,” I instruct.

  She leans back on her elbows and slides out, so her pussy is in my face. Soon, my head lands at her center.

  “Should have guessed.” I slide one finger down her wetness.

  “I’m a swimmer,” she tells me, explaining why she’s shaved.

  Like I give a shit. I just want to taste her.

  My arms reach around her, pulling her body right into me, suffocating me in her juices. I lick and suck on her, only being spurred on with each moan and groan fleeing her throat.

  “Jesus, Dylan.”

  Her one hand swings around, her fingers threading through my hair, locking me to her. Like I’m leaving. Inserting my tongue right inside her, I twirl and squeeze her ass.

  “Don’t stop!” she screams, only making me harder.

  Her hips grind into me, and my nose teases her clit as my mouth works her. Seconds later, she stills, and I push in a finger, massaging, until she collapses completely.

  Soon, her hand releases my head, and I lick her cum off my lips, staring up to her.

  “Holy shit. I would have let you in my room my sophomore year, if I had known you could eat pussy like that.” Her chest heaves with rapid breaths as she comes down from her orgasm.

  I wish I didn’t feel somehow validated that I’d just gotten my teenage dream off.

  “Now”—she slides off the counter, palming my erection currently tenting my boxer briefs—“I’m not a selfish lover.” Her lips nip at my neck, moving up to my mouth. “Let me taste myself on your lips.”

  Her lips cover mine, and her tongue snakes in, overtaking my mouth as fast as her hand is jerking me off through the thin fabric.