Page 56 of Crossed Wires: The Complete Series

Instead, just as one-date-only Phillip sputtered, “What thefuck?” from the floor, Dylan’s arms slid around Monet’s waist, his hands flattened on her back and he hauled her closer to return the kiss.

Reallyreturn her kiss.

His tongue delved past her lips, finding hers and stroking it with possessive greed. He bunched his hands into fists, knotting the cotton of her shirt as he subtly urged his hips forward. Monet moaned into his mouth, the undeniable length of his thickening cock making her head swim. Or maybe it was the sheer potency of his kiss. His teeth caught her bottom lip, nipping gently before he sucked on the fleshy pad.

She whimpered, raking her nails over his back, drowning in the waves of pleasure washing over her.

Monnie, stop…Annie…

With a growl, Dylan’s mouth laid claim again, his tongue wild and hungry as it mated with hers. She rolled her hips, needing to feel his cock rub against the curve of her sex.

Stop, Monnie…the gallery…people watching…

Dylan’s mouth dragged up to her ear, to the sensitive dip beneath it. Monet’s gasp left her on a hitching breath, her belly flip-flopping as his tongue darted over her flesh. She bowed her neck, the feel of his lips exploring her skin too exquisite to deny.

He groaned against her throat, drawing her closer to his body, his hands smoothing down her back to her ass. He cupped each cheek, holding her as his lips returned to hers and his tongue fucked her mouth. It was unlike any kiss she’d experienced before. It told her exactly what effect she had on him, exactly what he wanted to do to her.

Oh Monnie, think about what you’re doing…

Somewhere at her feet, someone unimportant cursed again. Somewhere to her left, someone made awooo!noise. Other people clapped enthusiastically. None of it mattered. How could it when she was being swept away by a single kiss?

A kiss so right, so damn perfect she could feel her panties grow damp. A kiss so fierce and demanding and impatient she wanted to strip naked and ride Dylan’s face, his tongue. A kiss so carnal she wanted to impale herself on his cock as his hands cupped and squeezed her breasts. Wanted to be taken by him right here, right now, on the gallery floor as the whole of New York witnessed her pleasure.

She dragged her nails over his broad back, around his narrow hips until, wriggling one hand between their bodies, she found his belt buckle?—

He jerked away, moving back a step. And another. Nostrils flaring, chest heaving, he stared at her, his eyes hidden by the shadow of his hat. “Fuck, what am I doing?” He scraped his hands down his face, shaking his head as he did so. “What am Idoing?”

The question was muffled by his hands but Monet heard it all the same. It sliced into her like a hot blade, the truth of it painful. What washedoing? What wasshedoing? She wasn’t Annie, and Annie, her best friend, was who Dylan was here to see.

Guilt smashed into her. Hot. Cold. Stinging and damning. She shut her eyes tight, her stomach rolling. What kind of friend was she?

“I’m sorry, Monet. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Dylan’s apology snapped her eyes open. He stood tense before her, his Adam’s apple working in his throat. Around them, the gallery’s staff watched, silent and rapt. More than one pair of feet shuffled.

“Fuckin’ right you shouldn’t have!”

Phillip’s indignant snarl made Monet flinch. Damn it, she’d forgotten all about him. Belly rolling some more, she tore her stare from Dylan and gave Phillip a wobbly smile. “Phillip, I?—”

She stopped, unable to think of a single thing to say. What the helldidshe say?I’m sorry Dylan hit you?She wasn’t. Phillip was a jerk. One date had been enough for her to recognize he was always a jerk, and tonight he was in fine jerk form. Unfortunately, the guy had delusions of grandeur, and he was one of New York’s most influential art collectors. Pissing him off wouldn’t help her career at all.

“I’m…” Nothing followed, her mind still a blank.

“You know what?” Phillip raised a hand, his lip curling. “Don’t bother. You’re not worth my time.” He slid a glare of contempt over Dylan and then turned back to Monet, his suavely handsome face twisted in a spiteful smile. “Just remember, when you’re fucking the Down Under Wonder tonight,that’snot a cock.This,” he grabbed his groin and gave it a squeeze, “is a?—”

Dylan’s fist smashed against Phillip’s jaw. Again.

And again, Phillip slumped to the floor, this time bone-limp, his eyes closed.

“Sorry.” Dylan tipped his hat back off his head, giving Monet a very sheepish look. “But that joke was too bloody lame to let him finish.”

Monet’s mouth fell open. “Shit, Dylan, you really know how to make an impression, don’t you?”

He let out a sigh. “This is gonna come back and bite me on the arse, isn’t it?”

Monet nodded. “Probably.”

With a soft chortle, he reached up, removed his hat and ran a hand through the blond shaggy hair he’d revealed. Monet couldn’t stop herself from staring at it. It was so glossy and sexy. How the hell was it possible to have sexy hair? Not even Ryan Gosling had hair that sexy. Just who the hellwasthis stockman from Australia?