Pillowtalk | D. O'B.

1. Escape Route

"Come on—"

"No."

"Rory—"

"I said no."

With a small chuckle, Dylan leans back on his hands, observing her with his familiar smug smile. "This was your idea...remember?"

Rory blows at the hair in front of her face, glaring at it as it sweeps to the side. She hates when he makes excellent and impossible to refute points. "Yeah, I fucking remember. Doesn't mean I wanna jump out of a second-story window—"

"Third story, actually, but I get your point."

Her eyes roll. "I'll just stay here till they leave—"

"They're not leaving."

"Well...you can sneak me out—"

"This is me sneaking you out."

Growling under her breath, Rory flops back down onto his mattress, grabbing at a pillow and slamming it over her face. "God, I hate your fucking family."

"I know."

"I hate you, too."

"Mhm, I know."

She knows he knows she's kidding. She knows he knows that she wouldn't be here if she didn't actually secretly kind of like him.

But still, the lilt in his tone has her sitting up, removing the pillow as she watches him from where he's still perched against his desk.

He meets her suspicious gaze, still smirking victoriously, and she can feel her breath hitch.

"You're annoying," she decides to tell him, and he laughs as he looks away.

"And yet you climb through my window every night just to fuck me," Dylan retorts, equally as confident.

Her eyes narrow, and it's getting harder not to blush. "You begged me to fuck you."

"No, actually, I said, 'Can you hand me a pen?' and you jumped on me like you were in fucking heat," he replies, without missing a beat, and she can feel her palms sweat at the memory.

"Because you kept giving me that fucking look," she reminds him, and his head tilts coyly.

"What look?" he asks, before pushing off the desk and strolling towards her. "This look?"

Rory's eyes begin to widen as her gaze flickers over his face. He's doing...that thing. That incredibly hot and irresistible thing he does with his eyes, where he pulls her in without ever saying a word.

And his face...his beautiful fucking face. She's convinced he has no idea the power he holds. If he did, he'd never have agreed to all this secrecy.

Her heart is pounding beneath her tank top, her skin still sticky with sweat from when he had her on her stomach not even fifteen minutes ago.

And now? Now she's not sure if she'll ever be able to leave his bedroom without coming around his cock at least one more time.

Maybe two times.

Especially if he doesn't stop doing...that thing.

"Is this...the look...I gave you?" he murmurs from above her, dipping his head down until he can brush his lips over hers.

Her eyes begin to flutter, her heart now racing, and her fingers itching to reach up and grab at his roots to pull him closer.

And he watches her. Watches the way her expression falls into a look of blissful yearning. It's always his favorite part. When her sarcastic walls fall away.