Page 31 of Never Too Late

I took advantage of his mouth opening, of him trying to say something, and quick as a whip, my hand shot out tagging him behind his neck. Pushing up to my tiptoes I rose up, his head came willingly, but I was too focused to notice. He met me halfway. That didn’t register in my brain, either. The only thing I knew was his mouth. His lips.

I wanted them.

I got what I needed.

I knew I did the right and the wrong thing the instant our lips met and my tongue touched the tip of his.

I moaned, preparing to push in deeper, to burrow into him one last time and could feel the vibrations in his chest as something rolled in them. His arms flew around me, crushing me to him. Squeezing the breath out of me.

Yes.

God, yes.

My whole body started tingling. My knees forgot how to hold me up and they buckled. Dylan held me fast and took all of my weight. When he did, I moaned again. I needed more. More of that kiss. More of his lips, tongue. More of him.

I trailed my hand that was behind his neck to his throat and down, my other one went from his hip and up. Until both of them met on his chest. God, I wished he hadn’t had the Henley and coat on so I could feel the heat of his skin.

I took a step into his, opening my mouth even farther. He took advantage and deepened the kiss. Everything seized to exist, and I bunched his coat in my hands and pulled him in.

When I did, he groaned so fiercely my insides vibrated and my head started swimming.

That all stopped when a cheerful shriek pierced the air, “Daddy!”

Tearing back, I took three steps back and stared at him. When another excited shriek came, I panted, “Please tell Zara I’m sorry I had to go. And I hope you have a magical Christmas.”

“Sophie,” he began to say, his hand going up and my way. I didn’t listen, I turned and hurried to my car.

He didn’t try to stop me.

He didn’t follow me.

He didn’t even call my name again.

With shaking hands, I opened the door, got in, and started up the Mustang.

My vision fought me on being blurry all the way home, but I managed to clear it.

When I got home, I exited the car and ran into my house.

It was after the lock clicked, I dumped my coat on the floor in front of the door and was buried under my grandmother’s blanket that the first tear rolled down my face.

And it was after that that the sobs came.

11

Dylan

“You’re an idiot,” Vivian said in passing, again. It became her mantra, and she repeated it to me whenever I was in an earshot. She sat down in a chair, making sure she was in my line of sight. I waited for her to explain what she was on about, even if I knew. I knew the first time she said it, two seconds after meeting Sophie. I tried to tell her some bullshit story about who Sophie was, but she knew me too well. And the moment Sophie’s name was said aloud, she knew exactly who Sophie was. I waited for Vivian to say something else. She didn’t. She brought her mug up to her mouth and blew lightly.

I didn’t need that shit.

I needed to have a quiet night, without the silent warnings from Vivian and promises of a lecture that was bound to come my way when Zara was tucked in her bed. Also, that bottle of whiskey that sat in my cabinet for over two years was getting opened.

When Vivian just continued to sip at her drink and look at me like she expected something, I sighed and looked away. “You said that already.”

“It bears repeating,” she mused.

“And why is that exactly?”