“I want to rewind time and do things differently,” he blurts.
I jerk back. “Why would you say that? I wouldn’t change a single thing about our time together except it’d be nice if you didn’t give me emotional whiplash so much. But I know that’s part of your charm. Part of who you are.” Honestly? I’d even take his mood swings if it meant I was with him.
“I’m going to make it up to you. We’re going to have the best few days. We still have time.”
Dillon and I are inseparable over the following days, even more so than usual. We cling to one another, always finding ways to touch, and we largely stay confined to my apartment, spending hours tangled together in bed. Dillon’s anger and frustration are most obvious when he’s fucking me, venting his emotion through hard thrusts and rough touches that speak to my very soul. We are hangry for one another, punishing our bodies for the sins of our hearts and minds.
“Come with me,” Dillon says on Sunday evening, dragging my lazy, melancholy butt off the couch and pulling me into the bathroom.
“What is this?” I stare at the tub with a physical pain in my chest. Scented steam rises from the water, tickling my nostrils. Rose petals float across the water, and soft music is playing in the background.
“I have plans for us tonight. I kicked Ash out. I’m commandeering the kitchen, and you’re to get your beautiful self in the bath and relax.”
“Jesus, Dillon. Are you truly trying to destroy me?”
He brushes a tear off my cheek. “Time is running out, Hollywood,” he whispers. “I want our last night together to be memorable.”
Toxic Gods has a booking tomorrow night which they tried to get out of, but couldn’t, so this is it. I’ve been trying hard not to think about it all day, but my bad mood can attest to my failure.
“Take your time in the bath, and then get dolled up. But you’re to stay in your room while I set things up. I’ll come get you when I’m ready.” He produces a glass of bubbly from behind his back, handing it to me.
I love you.
It’s on the tip of my tongue. I want to say it so badly, but it’s only going to make things worse. I can’t stay in Ireland. I’ve got to return home. “Thank you.” I kiss him softly. “You’re the best.”
I cry quietly in the bath, wishing things could be different, cursing my fragile heart for falling for someone I can’t have. Even if there were a way for me to stay in Ireland, Dillon probably won’t be here for much longer. Toxic Gods is going places. It’s only a matter of time before his star explodes, and I can’t go through that whole scene again.
I’ve got to let him go. For his sake and mine.
I just don’t know how I’m going to do it.
“Don’t peek,” Dillon says a couple of hours later, leading me up the stairs to the roof with his hand over my eyes.
“I’m not,” I lie, totally trying to squint through the gap in his fingers to see what he’s done.
He brings us to a halt and removes his hand. “Surprise.”
58
“Dillon,” I whisper, staring in amazement at the small marquee erected on the roof. Strings of colored lights decorate the interior, and the floor is covered in a myriad of vibrant patterned beanbags and large cushions. In the center is a low glossy black table set with candles and silverware. Incense wafts through the air from a few diffusers set up around the space. In the corner, a narrow rectangular table holds plates and covered silver platters.
“Do you like it?” he asks, and I realize I haven’t said more than his name. He looks at me with so much vulnerability, and he seems so young in this moment, so unsure of himself.
I clutch his arm, smiling up at him. “I love it. This is amazing.” I skim my eyes over his black button-up shirt and black pants, and my mouth waters. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled to the elbows, highlighting his gorgeous, strong muscular arms. He’s tan from spending so much time outside with me this summer, and it looks good on him. “As are you.” Grabbing his biceps, I press a long, lingering kiss on his lips. “You look so freaking hot.”
Leading me inside, he kneels to remove my high heels so I can sit cross-legged on the large cushion in front of the table. “I cooked an Asian-themed meal so I thought we could eat like this,” he says, looking nervous.
Leaning down, I kiss him. “This is fantastic. Thank you for going to so much trouble.”
After an exquisite meal, all cooked by Dillon, I sip prosecco while he serenades me with his guitar and that husky voice I could listen to all day.
When it gets chilly, we head inside to my bedroom. Dillon clearly snuck in here when he said he was going to the bathroom because there are rose petals on the bed and the only light is from the various flickering candles strategically placed around the room. My half-packed luggage is propped against the wall, serving as a poignant reminder of my imminent departure. But I’m not thinking about that now. I want to enjoy every second of our last precious moments together.
Throwing my arms around him, I kiss him hard, devouring his mouth as my fingers pop the buttons on his shirt. I slide my hand under the band of his pants, finding him hard and warm, ready and waiting. Without speaking, I remove his pants, boxers, sneakers, and socks and crawl on my knees between his legs, taking him into my mouth.
His fingers weave in my hair as I suck and nibble on his straining length, wanting to savor every second. Dillon’s gaze is brimming with emotion and burning with desire as I lavish attention on his dick.
Lifting me by the arms, he pulls me to standing, planting a firm kiss on my lips, sliding his tongue into my mouth while lowering the zipper on my dress. It falls to my feet, and I step out of it as Dillon scoops me into his arms, carrying me to the bed. He makes quick work of my bra and undies and begins licking and kissing a path along my skin, taking his time worshiping every part of my body.
There’s a softness to his gaze, a tenderness to his touch, that is wholly new, and I’m enjoying this gradual sensual buildup until neither of us can take it anymore. Nudging my thighs apart, he holds himself still, his cock poised at my entrance. He leans down, brushing his nose against mine, planting a sweet kiss to one corner of my mouth, and then the other, before claiming my lips in the lightest kiss as he slowly and carefully inches inside me. He’s not wearing a condom, but we stopped using them after Brittas Bay. Now I’ve felt him moving inside me without one I can’t go back. I’m on the pill and he usually pulls out, as an added precaution, coming on my stomach or my breasts.
Every other time we’ve been together, it’s been fucking. But not tonight. Tonight, Dillon makes slow sweet love to me, and if I wasn’t completely in love with him before this, I certainly would be now. He is unhurried, teasing sensations from my body with rolling hips, sensual thrusts, and tender strokes. His lips skim across my face and my neck, while his hands roam my breasts, softly cupping their weight, before he gently sucks on my nipples as he moves inside me with utter devotion.
I don’t even realize I’m crying until he kisses my tears. Then he’s crying too.
How can my heart feel full of joy and pain at the same time? How is this happening when I have to leave and there is no promise of a future for us? What have I done to deserve such wicked suffering?
“Viv.” He kisses me as he quickens his pace. “God, I don’t ever want to stop feeling this.”
“I know,” I sob, throwing my arms around his neck and holding him close as my legs tighten around his waist. “This is the best feeling in the world.”
We come together, bodies joined in every possible place, and we stay entangled in one another for a long time, both of us afraid to move, unwilling to break this connection.