Chapter 160 Bottled up desire

Chapter 160 Bottled up desire
Emma's POV

Whoever said rain ruined a good date had clearly never ended one laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

By the time Dylan closes the hotel room door behind us, we're both damp, slightly out of breath, and still laughing over the image of us sprinting through the streets with plastic containers of chicken over rice like two broke college students. His expensive three-piece suit is no longer quite as perfect, my emerald-green dress is soaked around the hem, and there are little drops of rain trailing across the carpet beneath our feet.

Honestly?

I wouldn't change a single thing about tonight.

“This was supposed to be romantic,” Dylan says, slipping out of his jacket before tossing it over the back of a chair.

“It was romantic,” I reply as I kick off my heels with a sigh of relief. “Just... in a very wet, chicken-over-rice kind of way.”

He laughs, shaking his head before walking over to the thermostat on the wall. He presses a few buttons, waits, presses them again, then frowns.

“The heater's broken.”

“You're kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

I instinctively wrap my arms around myself. Now that we're no longer running through the rain, the cold is finally beginning to settle into my skin.

“Of course it is,” I mumble. “Why wouldn't it be?”

Dylan gives the thermostat one last hopeful press before letting out an exaggerated sigh. Then he turns around to face me, and judging by the look in his eyes, I've already lost whatever argument he's about to start.

“Come here.”

I narrow my eyes immediately. “Why?”

“You look cold,” he says, his lips twitching. “And I don't think hotel room service can fix that tonight.”

I raise an eyebrow. “So what exactly are you proposing?”

“I happen to know a very effective cure.”

“I don't think I trust that cure, Dylan.” I say, folding my arms tighter across my chest.

“Come on, baby.” He smiles with far too much confidence. “It's scientifically proven.”

I can't help smiling. “By who?”

“Me.”

I laugh. “That's not how science works.”

“It does if I'm extremely convincing.”

He holds out his hand anyway.

For a second I simply look at it. It's strange how something so small still makes my heart flutter.

This morning, I wasn't sure whether Dylan and I would ever become us again.

Now he's standing in front of me asking me to trust him with nothing more than a smile and an outstretched hand.

I slip mine into his. Immediately, his fingers close around mine. It's warm and familiar.

He gently pulls me toward the bed before sitting down, guiding me until I'm standing between his knees. His hands settle lightly on my waist, rubbing slow circles over the damp fabric still clinging to my skin.

“You're so sneaky,” I murmur, looking down at him. “You've been waiting all day for an excuse to kiss me, admit it.”

He looks up, amusement dancing in those dark eyes I've missed far more than I'll ever admit.

A slow grin spreads across his face. “I didn't need an excuse.”

Before I can answer, he cups my face and kisses me. Everything inside me immediately melts. It's slower than every kiss we've shared since we got back together.

There isn't any desperation behind it anymore. No fear that one of us is about to disappear. No panic. No uncertainty.

Just love. Just the quiet reassurance that we're finally allowed to have this again.

I kiss him back just as slowly, my hands sliding up his shoulders until they're resting around his neck. When we finally separate, neither of us goes very far. Our foreheads remain together, our breathing mingling in the small space between us.

I've kissed Dylan more times than I could count. I've missed him just as many.

But somehow...

This feels like the first kiss that's truly ours again.

He smiles before reaching behind me to find the zipper of my dress.

“Can I?”

I nod.

The zipper slides down slowly, and the dress loosens around my shoulders before falling to the floor around my feet. Suddenly I'm standing there in nothing but my underwear, and despite everything we've already shared, a tiny flicker of nervousness sneaks into my chest.

His hands settle gently on my hips. “You okay?”

I nod slowly. “It just feels... different.”

He turns me until I'm facing him completely. “Good different?”

“I think so.”

He cups my face. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

I lean into his touch. “I know.” Then I reach for the buttons of his shirt and start undoing them one by one. “Besides, you wore this for me.”

“I did.”

“Then I think I deserve to take it off.”

The smile that spreads across his face makes my stomach flutter.

God.

I really did get my boyfriend back.

I push the shirt from his shoulders before letting my hands wander across his chest.

I've always thought Dylan was unfairly attractive. It's honestly annoying. But tonight...

Looking at him feels less like staring at a beautiful man...

...and more like finding something I genuinely believed I'd lost forever.

We undress each other slowly, taking our time. I laugh quietly when his belt gets stuck, and he laughs even harder when I nearly lose my balance trying to step out of my panties. It's awkward in the sweetest way, but with every piece of clothing that lands on the floor, the teasing slowly fades.

The air between us grows heavier, charged with everything we've spent months denying ourselves. By the time we're both standing there completely bare, neither of us seems to notice the cold anymore.

He gently walks me backward until the backs of my knees hit the bed. I sit, then let myself fall onto the mattress, watching him climb over me. He kisses me again, deeper this time, and I open for him without hesitation.

His hands wander over my body slowly, almost like he's memorizing me all over again, tracing every curve, every soft spot, every place that still makes me shiver.

I'd expected him to be impatient. After everything we'd been through, after months of wanting each other, I thought we'd be too desperate to slow down. But that's not what happens.

Every few moments, Dylan stops just to look at me, searching my face as though he's making sure I'm really here. He steals little kisses from the corner of my mouth, my forehead, the tip of my nose, and every single one makes my chest ache a little more. It doesn't feel like he's trying to make up for lost time. It feels like he's reminding me, with every touch, every kiss, every glance, that he still wants me just as much as I want him.

When his fingers slide between my legs, I am already wet for him. He groans softly against my neck.

“Emma…”

“I’m okay,” I whisper. “I want this.”

He takes his time preparing me, kissing down my chest, sucking gently on one nipple while his fingers move inside me. I arch under him, moaning, hands buried in his hair. By the time he settles between my thighs and slowly pushes inside, I am trembling with need.

The stretch is familiar and new all at once. I gasp, and he freezes immediately.

“Too much?”

“No.” I wrap my legs around him. “Just… give me a second.”

He waits with his forehead resting against mine until I give the smallest nod.

Only then does he move.

Slowly.

Every movement is careful, unhurried, making me feel all the months we'd spent apart. I can tell how long it has been for him. His breathing keeps catching, and every now and then his hips falter for the briefest second, like he's fighting to keep himself together.

But he never loses that control.

He keeps looking at me, searching my face with every breath, every touch, adjusting whenever my body reacts, whenever a soft sound slips past my lips. Between those slow movements, he keeps kissing me too, like he can't go more than a few seconds without reminding himself that I'm really here.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he says against my lips.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

I smile even as another moan leaves me. “You could have called.”

He laughs, the sound broken by a groan when I tighten around him. “I don't know why I didn't.”

We move together for what feels like forever. My first orgasm builds slowly and crashes hard, making me cry out his name. He keeps going, slower now, watching my face like he cannot believe I am real. When the second one starts rising, I pull him closer, needing the weight of him, the heat of him.

I can feel him getting close. His rhythm changes, becomes less controlled. Suddenly the memory of Dawn flashes through my mind and panic spikes.

“Dylan.”

He slows but does not stop. “What?”

“Don’t come inside me.”

He actually laughs, breathless and surprised. “What?”

“I’m serious.” I dig my nails into his back. “I am not doing this again.”

He kisses me hard, still moving. “Okay, okay. I hear you.”

A few more thrusts and he pulls out with a low groan. Warmth spills across my stomach as he finishes, body shaking above me. I look down and blink.

“Dylan.”

“What?”

“That is… a lot.”

He stares at me, still catching his breath. “What exactly am I supposed to say to that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe apologize?”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. The quantity?”

He laughs and collapses beside me, one arm thrown over his eyes. “It’s been a long time, Emma. A very long time.”

The words settle between us. I turn my head to look at him. He is not bragging. He is just telling the truth. He has not been with anyone else. The knowledge makes my chest ache in the best way.

I reach for the tissues on the nightstand and clean us both up as best I can. Then I curl against his side, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow down. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my bare shoulder.

“I forgot how much I liked lying beside you,” he says quietly.

I tilt my head just enough to look at him. “Do you think we'll ever get back to how we used to be?”

He doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he keeps watching me. Then he slowly shakes his head.

“No.”

Something inside my chest drops ever so slightly before he reaches over and brushes a strand of hair away from my face.

“I think we'll be better.”

I blink.

“Because now we know what it feels like to lose each other.”

His thumb strokes gently across my cheek.

“And I don't ever want to learn that lesson twice.”

My eyes sting all over again. Not because I'm sad. Because somehow… After everything we've survived...

I actually believe him.

I smile before snuggling even closer, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear.

“I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and find out this was a dream.” His arm tightens around me.

I press one last kiss over his heart before closing my eyes. “Then don't fall asleep just yet,” I whisper. “I'd like to enjoy having my boyfriend back for a little longer.”