In the darkness, he reached for her.
“Tell me this isn’t the broom cupboard,” she whispered, her nimble fingers already unbuckling his belt.
“It’s the broom cupboard.” Dylan rucked Kara’s dress up her thighs, running his hands over her stocking tops.
“You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
“You betcha,” he muttered. “I wish I could see you. Stockings make me horny.”
Kara freed his cock into her waiting hands. “I can tell.”
“Fuck… English,” he groaned. “You’re pretty good at that.”
“I know.”
Dylan pulled Kara’s lace knickers to the side and backed her against the wall. It was her turn to groan. “You’re pretty good at that.”
“I know,” he said, exploring inside her. “I’ve been thinking about you all night.” He lifted her and pinned her against the wall with his body. “Thinking about fucking you.”
“So do me.”
“Do me?” Dylan reached into his back pocket for a condom and sheathed himself. “You sound like a teenager,” he murmured, thrusting his cock deep into her, making her cry out.
“It was your idea to screw in a cupboard,” she panted, dragging his mouth onto hers.
“It was a good idea,” he said, fucking her hard, loving the sounds she made and the way she wrapped her leg around his ass to clamp him close.
“The best,” she said, her voice trembling when he reached down and fingered her slick clitoris. She was going to come, he knew it and she knew it, and he put his hand over her mouth to muffle her yells. He held her up with the weight of his body, his hips pumping hard as he let go of his control.
“The best,” he repeated, lowering her slowly back down to her feet. He kissed her slowly, smoothing her dress back into place regretfully as she stroked his hair. “The best, English.”
Chapter Nineteen
“I’m bushed.” Kara fished around in her bag for the keys to the Mustang as she walked back to the car with Dylan at the end of the night.
He held out his hand. “Let me drive.”
She handed them over willingly and flopped into the passenger seat.
“Remember to drive on the right.”
“We drive on the right in the States,” he said. “It’s only you guys who do it the wrong way.”
“The right way,” she objected automatically, closing her eyes and enjoying the sensation of being taken care of.
Dylan threw his arm over the back of her seat and glanced over his shoulder as he reversed. “You have good taste in cars.”
“Mmm. I seem to have a thing for all things American at the moment.”
“You have a thing for me, English?” Delicious, sexy humour threaded its way through his drawl.
“Hmm,” Kara said. “You. Mustangs.” She yawned. “You.”
“You said me already.”
“Like New York,” she muttered, half asleep. “So good I said you twice.”
When she opened her eyes again, she was in Dylan’s arms being carried along the pathway at the edge of the beach.
“I did not go to sleep,” she said, nuzzling her face into his neck to get closer to the scent of him.
“Of course not,” he said. Then added, deadpan, “But you were snoring.”
She opened her eyes wide. “I so was not.”
“You’ve turned into that teenager again,” he said, kissing her softly as they approached the boat. He set her on her feet and held her hand as she stepped aboard.
“Coffee?” she asked as he unlocked the door.
Dylan moved in close behind her in the small kitchen and kissed her shoulder.
“You sure you don’t want to go straight to bed?”
“You’ve woken me up now. Let’s have coffee first,” she said, flicking the gas on beneath the kettle. He shrugged assent and turned on the radio, the station playing slow, chill-out tracks designed to lull the island’s clubbers to sleep.
Dylan carried their mugs down into the living area a couple of minutes later and sat down on the lurid couch that ran around the edge. Kara dropped next to him, her head on his shoulder and her feet propped on his knees.
“So. First night done,” she said, accepting her mug from Dylan.
He settled back, his own mug in his hand. “It sure had some highlights.”
Kara touched her mug against his with a lazy smile. “To Gateway Ibiza, and all who screw in her broom cupboard.”
They fell silent, both tired and still coming down from the high of the successful launch. Dylan looked out over the dark, star-studded skies. Dawn was still a couple of hours away.
I love this time of morning," he said quietly, his eyes on a lone fisherman in the distance loading nets into his vessel. "My brother Billy used to night fish."
Kara stilled, surprised by his words. It was the first time he’d volunteered any personal information.
“Are you close?”
“We were.” Dylan drank deeply from his mug, letting the coffee scald his throat for a pain he could concentrate on. “He died a few of years back.”
“Shit.” Kara placed her mug down and sat up, her arm along the cushion behind him. “I’m sorry, darlin’.” She stroked the warm skin at the back of his neck, waiting to see if he wanted to say more. She hoped he would.
“It was a rough time.” Dylan swallowed hard. “Still is. My mom struggles.”
Kara blew out slowly, thankful that she was unable to comprehend the level of grief.
“Do you have any other brothers or sisters?”
Dylan’s breath left his body in a long sigh. “One other brother. Justin.” A different bleakness lined his face. “We’re not so close.”
There was obviously much that he wasn’t saying, but she was delicate enough not to push him.
“I have twin brothers,” she said instead. “They’re seven years younger than me and drive me crazy most of the time.”
Dylan laughed softly. “I bet their friends have crushes on you.”
“What can I say?” she grinned. “I’m irresistible.”
Dylan stroked her thigh. “You are.”
Kara’s stomach flipped at his serious reaction to her flippant remark.
“You are completely and utterly fucking irresistible,” he said. “So how the hell are you still single?”
“Am I?” she said.