The Reverse of Perfection (Bad Decisions Book 2) (9 page)

He was thoughtful. Considerate. He put her needs above his. Every time Ariel thought she had Dylan pegged, another layer peeled back and revealed something more special about him. Which scared her a little. This would be only a road-trip fling. It would be all about sating the need between them. Burning off the chemistry. Except that the more time she spent with Dylan, the more it started to feel like a real relationship. Not just sex. Which was not an option.

“
Now
is how I want it.” Ariel pulled out of his grasp. Frantically worked the tight denim at his fly over the buttons and undid the zipper. Then she put her hand straight down to wrap around his hot, pulsing length. “Right now.”

“Holy shit, Ariel.” Grabbing her wrist, Dylan yanked her hand back up and out. “‘Now’ doesn’t mean before I get my pants off. This is for both of us to enjoy.”

“I’ll enjoy having you in me.”

“One second. Give me one damn second, and then you can have all of me.” Dylan spun to the nightstand. Scrabbled at a big pile of bright red foil wrappers. The black band logo stood out from across the room. Riptide, with a guitar as the T.

“My brother had personalized band condoms made? That’s…that’s…ewww.”

“Nope. Jones gave these to me.” He flipped one to show her the saying on the opposite side:
Drummers Hit It Harder
. “Told me to go to town tonight.”

There had to be a dozen condoms on the pile. “That was optimistic of him.”

“Or realistic. Let’s wait to decide that until morning.”

“I like your thinking.”

“Good. Then go with it.” His hands worked the tie at the side of her waist with ease. Those dexterous fingers made equally quick work of her bra.

Oh, yes, all signs pointed to Dylan definitely knowing his way around a woman. Especially when he ran his thumbs along the crease of her inner thigh to slide her panties and skirt off in one fell swoop. It took only a few sharp movements until he stood before her naked. Gloriously naked. With a long penis that angled up and out, as if reaching for her. Not that she objected.

Ariel ripped the condom open with her teeth. “One.” She laughed, tossing the wrapper over her shoulder.

As he slid the condom on, Dylan said, “How about we keep a separate count for your orgasms? ’Cause I’m betting that number’s going to double the condom total by morning.”

Omigod. “Now who’s being optimistic?” she teased. And hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t just an empty promise. Because it turned out that so far he was very good at keeping his word…

“Nope. That statement is one hundred percent realistic.” Dylan crossed to the funny, curved velvet love seat and sat right in the middle. Then he patted his lap. “C’mere, beautiful.”

Ariel loved that they weren’t just going with the norm for their first time. That Dylan wasn’t one of those by-the-numbers lovers...which was really all she’d ever known. Excitement heated her from the inside out.

It seemed like the position should be awkward. But she slid onto his lap, ankles crossing behind his back, as easily as the right two puzzle pieces fitting together. It was the sexiest, most intimate hug she’d ever had. Ariel threw her arms around his neck and held on tight. “This is pretty awesome.”

Dylan nuzzled her neck. “It sure is. But we had a plan. Fast, remember? Or did you change your mind?”

Seriously? The guy was checking in with her? With his penis pulsing against her abdomen with every breath he took, he still bothered to be sure they were on the same page? Dylan Royce was too good to be true. She had to be dreaming. “If anything, I want you even more.”

“Done.” Hands under her butt, Dylan lifted her up, onto him and then surged upward into her. All at once. All the way.

“Sooooo good.” At least, that’s what Ariel tried to say. She was pretty sure it came out as way more of a moan than actual words.

“Just hang on, babe. I’ve got this.” Between rocking his hips and lifting her, Dylan was in complete control. His biceps were popped out and solid as rock with the effort. God, it was hot to watch. The stamina, the control, the sheer strength that it took made her burn even hotter for him.

“You sure do,” she murmured. Ariel wanted to do more. To be a team player. But the way he filled her actually,
literally
, took her breath away. She loved the feel of her breasts tight against his chest. Loved the slick, thwapping noise of their skin meeting. And, of course, the way his deep, fast, repeated penetration drove her freaking right to the edge of oblivion.

“Is it embarrassing to admit I’m already almost there?” she panted.

“Nope. We were both already halfway there just from being in the same room. I’m ready to jump off that cliff anytime you are, beautiful.”

Oh, thank God. Because this man wound her up like nobody ever had before. “Okay, then. Now, please.”

“Whatever you say.” Dylan’s thumbs bit into her hips tighter. Ariel hoped she had bruises there in the morning. She wanted a tangible souvenir—besides the pile of condom wrappers—of this night. Amazingly, he picked up the pace. Pulled her even closer, which rubbed her against him in a different spot that, yes, took her flying off the cliff into a spiral of pleasure. Ariel let her head fall back as all the air left her lungs. At the same time, a guttural scream came from Dylan as his thighs jerked beneath her. And then there was no sound in the room but their unison gasps.

“That’s….one,” she managed to get out.

“You sure about that?” Dylan ducked his head out from her arms and leaned back, angling to put a wide triangle of space between them. “I’m still in you, in case you forgot. Keep counting.” He moved one hand to put his knuckles right above where they were still joined. The pressure made her jump. When he started rubbing, she squealed. And when he then hitched forward to latch his mouth on to her nipple, Ariel thrashed at his onslaught. That was all it took—less than fifteen seconds—before she broke apart once more.

Her knees sagged to the velvet. It took all her concentration to not tumble backward onto the floor. She had never,
ever
come twice in one night, let alone twice in as many minutes. Ariel looked into his piercing blue eyes and realized all the lights were still on. She could see everything; all the golden hair dusting his arms, the darker brown hair in a straight line down from his belly button, the—

Oh. It meant he could see all of her, too. For a split second, Ariel felt exposed. Too exposed. Too naked. Like he wouldn’t just see her body, but all of her anxiety and insecurity and the scabbed-over spot deep in her heart.

“Well?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow and smirking.

A generous lover, a thoughtful man, but there was a part of Dylan that was also still a cocky rock star. So he wasn’t perfect. That was okay.

“Two,” she answered, loving that they were having fun as much as getting down and dirty.

Then he stood, still holding her. Without so much as a grunt. The man was wasted as a rock star. With these muscles, he should be playing a superhero or an action hero in the next summer blockbuster. “There’s a claw-foot tub in the bathroom. Without even trying, I can think of at least three things I want to do to you in there.”

Ariel laughed. Not because he’d said anything funny, but because she was filled with such sheer happiness. “What are you waiting for?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

A lot of performers bitched about being stuck on tour buses—no matter how tricked out they were. Of course, they also bitched about being stuck on private planes. All of that enforced inactivity drove them nuts. But Dylan loved spending time on the bus. He could sleep through anything, so it was a guaranteed good way to catch up on zzzs between concerts. Their bunks weren’t luxurious, by any stretch. The long black ultrasuede couch and matching recliner more than made up for them, though.

He’d staked out the recliner to avoid any possibility of putting his hands on Ariel, who sat at the desk opposite covered in laptops and sheet music. Sexy Ariel, who wore cutoffs on this travel day that showed off her tanned, toned legs.

Beautiful Ariel, with the midmorning sun beaming through the windows onto her, causing a halo effect.

Adorable Ariel, who he’d discovered nibbled on the ends of her hair when she was deep in emailing.

Hot-as-hell Ariel, who had kept him up past dawn on what was now officially the best night of his life.

Smart and dedicated Ariel, who didn’t just bark instructions at him, but strategized and talked through her plans with him over the past few days, in between rehearsals and two sold-out concerts in Denver. Who took the time to approach him as a partner.

His other publicists had handed down edicts. They’d never bothered to involve him. Working together made a lot more sense and let him see how her brilliant mind worked. One of the reasons he’d gone solo was because Dylan was sick of taking orders. Even though Ariel was hired to boss him around, she didn’t. She listened. Made the effort to incorporate his wants and needs into her plans.

A loud grinding noise came from below as gears shifted. They must be climbing yet another peak on the way out of Vail. Right. The bus. What he’d started thinking about to distract him from staring at his gorgeous secret girlfriend.

The bus was a great way to connect with the guys. Not as his idols. As people. As fellow musicians. Jones was practicing a riff on his thighs. Cam shared the table with his sister, scowling over his guitar and plucking at random chords. None of it distracted Dylan from thinking up his own songs. Only Ariel did that. Ariel and her soft laugh and softer breasts…

No. Songs. New songs. Dylan couldn’t waste all this perfect songwriting time thinking about how sweet she tasted on his tongue, how responsive she was to his touch, how she worked so damn hard to help turn around his flagging career. How she’d gotten jealous at the thought of him actually doing something with the women she’d pushed on him. Jealousy was good. Jealousy meant that he mattered to her. That it wasn’t just sex, and it wasn’t just business between them. Jealousy meant she cared.

Huh. That’d be an interesting theme for a song. And wouldn’t it be fun to surprise her with one? Dylan picked up his legal pad and hovered his pen right above it.

“Hey,” barked Kyoko, their driver. Tiny, with long dark hair, she had a voice louder than a foghorn. Guess she’d gotten good at yelling over the constant snippets of music that tumbled out of all of them. “I got a message from Tony. Now that it’s Monday, the business office at the Hotel Boulderado is open. They’ve got a question about one of Dylan’s charges.”

Tony was Riptide’s tour manager and the driver of their second bus. He and Kyoko basically jawed back and forth all day. Kylie was on his bus, too, working with him on her internship project. Which gave the rest of them just enough legroom to spread out.

Jones stilled his sticks in midair. “What did you do, D? Order hot- and cold-running porn for the TV in the bedroom
and
the shitter?”

“Hey.” Cam’s eyebrows knitted together. “Kylie might not be in here today, but my baby sister is. Watch the language.”

Jones scratched his temple with the tip of his stick. “Just so I know, were you objecting to the mention of porn or the crapper?”

Before Cam went at him, Dylan jumped in. “I didn’t buy any movies. Just breakfast.” Twice, come to think of it. Because when they’d scarfed down grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches at three a.m. to have the energy to plow through all of Jones’ condoms, it counted for breakfast, right? As did the waffles they’d shared in bed six hours later. Waffles he’d ordered for the express purpose of getting syrup to drizzle over Ariel’s petal-pink nipples.

“Yeah, a woman signed the room-service bill. Twice. They want to be sure it’s a legit charge.”

Dylan frantically racked his brain to come up with a reason to get out of the recliner and go whisper the rest of this conversation with Kyoko. Ariel had answered the door both times. She’d claimed it was her contribution to their sexathon. That the least she could do was give him time to regroup and stay under the covers. “Um, yeah. Of course.”

“You dog!” Jones leaned over to drum on Dylan’s calf. “I can’t believe that raffle thing worked for you. I have to get in on that. Ariel, do a raffle for me in Flagstaff.”

With an amused sniff, Ariel shook her head. “I don’t work for you, Jones. All my special tricks are kept in reserve for my actual client.”

“That’s weird. You sure both were yours? ’Cause it looks fake.” Kyoko tossed her phone backward down the length of the bus. Cam caught it one-handed. “Somebody signed A. Watson. You think they were trying to charge something to Cam?”

For all the gear shifting and wheezing that filled the bus as it trundled through the Rockies at seventy miles an hour, it sure as shit got awfully quiet in there. Cam stared at the phone, presumably at the picture of his sister’s signature. Which he was bound to recognize. Dylan froze, unsure of what to say. Clearly, hiding it hadn’t worked. But he sure as hell didn’t know how to respond other than,
Yeah, I did your little sister all night long.
No way would that go over well.