When Charlotte Evans last saw Dylan Trafford, two years ago, he broke her heart. The boy with the tattoos and a penchant for speed was the only guy Charlotte ever loved--and the one who broke her trust. After one intense night of secrets and temptat...
I'D THOUGHT ABOUT the moment of my first kiss more than I cared to admit, but never, ever, I'd have imagined the depth of feeling and sensations that assaulted my body when Dylan's lips met mine. The memory of it would echo in my mind for years to come.
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"YOU COME HERE a lot, don't you?" I asked, stealing a glance at Dylan's profile as the car turned again and continued down the street along the river.
We'd exchanged a few words since he picked me up, but for the most part the ride had been silent. It wasn't the kind of silence that usually made me uncomfortable, it felt different. It was different. I didn't mind the silence at all because it gave me the opportunity to soak in the moment, to give in to the ball of nerves and a pinch of something else that gathered at the pit of my stomach.
My fingers tapped a silent rhythm against the leather of the seat, as I'd found the radio was out of order when I'd toyed with the dials—and way too low on the list of things to fix if you asked me—while my eyes veered to his arms. I'd have never imagined I'd be attracted to a guy with tattoos, much less one that seemed to wear them as clothes, but each time I saw him I found him more good-looking, more intriguing, more mature. More. And more.
The boys at my school seemed like that, boys, compared to him.
The muscles on his upper arms flexed as he changed gears, his hand resting comfortably on the stick. I burned with the urge to discover every inch of inked skin, to know more about the meaning behind each design.
I'd not say this sudden attraction didn't scare me, because it did, but I was willing to put myself out there. He'd made me realize there was so much more to life than what I'd been carefully planning. That maybe it was okay to be a bit reckless and impulsive once in a while.
"I do. It's my escape when I need to let out some steam or just reflect." He explained while pulling to the curb.
I made a humming noise. "Which of the two is it today?"
He snorted. "None actually." He killed the engine and turned those soul searing eyes on me. "I should have probably asked this before, but—" His gaze dropped to my white Converse for a second. "You don't mind walking, do you?"
I had to bite the inside of my cheek so I didn't break into a smile. Was that... concern on his face?
I couldn't help myself. "Actually, I've had ACL surgery thrice already. The doctor told me not to overtax myself."
He blinked at me.
Then blinked some more.
It took everything I had to keep a straight face as his mouth opened and closed like a fish.
