Chapter 15

Nolan

The Elderberry Fizzesmust have gone to my head. There was no other way I could explain the complete disconnect that happened in my brain and body when Dawson told me he wanted to take care of me.

It was like an out of body experience. I'd had two serious boyfriends in my short, twenty-eight years of life. Well, one wasn't really my boyfriend, he was more or less trying to figure his shit out, but we weren't in the closet or anything, so I think it counts.

Because if it didn't, that would mean I've only ever been in one serious relationship my entire life.

Sure, I'd thought of scenarios like this one when I was alone—usually because the crux of my thoughts were centered around what would happen after I'd been sufficiently wined and dined by a handsome man with eyes only for me, and usually in those thoughts, I ended up on my knees showing my praise and putting out like a homecoming queen.

God, I am so easy!

But I never thought I'd actually be here, in this situation, with Dawson Richards of all people.

Despite the alcohol, I found myself unable to speak, even though my thoughts were running a mile a minute.

Dawson's eyebrows furrowed and he narrowed his gaze at me as he handed the check to the waiter.

"I—" I cleared my throat, finding the will to speak once more if only because I didn't want to seem rude.

"Thank... you," I managed to get the words out.

Dawson cast a smile I could only describe as dirty and wicked at me, his brown eyes lighting up with the signature golden energy that encapsulated him most of the time.

Drawing me closer, like a bug to the sun.

"Don't thank me just yet. Wait till we get home," he said, flashing me a flirtatious wink, causing my blush to hit me like a tidal wave.

I both hated and loved that with barely a few words and a look, this man could have me so flushed and flustered, so damn desperate for more of that hot, golden light that only he could shine.

I wanted more.

Stupidly, I wanted anything Dawson was willing to give me.

I sucked down the remainder of my third fizzy drink, feeling much more relaxed than I usually did. I wasn't sure what all the bartender put in that thing, but whatever it was, it was making me feel on cloud nine, invincible almost.

Which probably accounted for my sudden influx of confidence at the moment.

Because as I watched Dawson sign his receipt and slide his credit card back into his wallet, then slide said wallet into his slacks as we rose from the table, I'd made an impulsive, split decision, and I wasn't going back.

So, I let Dawson show me out, let him walk me to his truck, stilling my breath as best I could.

When we got to the truck, he moved to open my door but I stopped him.

Realistically, he'd drive me home, forget about this date-not-date like he forgot about me that first time we met, after we'd flirted.

We'd go back to life as normal—working together, aggravating one another, hiding our true feelings. And I just... didn't want to go back to that.

It's now or never, Nolan.

If you want things to change, change them.

I'd never been more sure of anything in my life.

"Nolan, what—"

I didn't think twice about doing what I'd wanted to do for two years, what I'd wanted to do since that night in M's Place, under his spell, what I wished I had done when we were standing in his brother's front yard.

I pulled Dawson Richards into me and I pressed my lips to his. He startled for a moment, clearly surprised by my sudden boldness, but only for a split second. Then he relaxed in my hold, setting his warm palm on my hip, tugging me closer, his lips moving hurriedly against mine.

A deep, satisfied groan escaped my throat as his tongue breached my lips. With both hands on my hips, he pulled me tight against him; so tight I could feel his hardness against my own.

I ran my hands up his neck, letting my fingertips play with the edges of his soft hair, and I lived in that kiss for a hundred years.

Because no one had ever kissed me the way Dawson kissed me.

He broke away, and my lips felt swollen and warm from his fiery kiss, longing to be caressed once more.

I think that was when I knew nothing would ever be the same again, and on some deeper level, I knew it was the beginning of something so much greater than I'd ever expected.

But I couldn't process all of that amidst the alcohol infusing my brain.

"Fucking brat," he said with a laugh. "I said, wait till we get home. I told you, good boys get—"

I couldn't help but smile at his words. "Maybe I don't want to be rewarded, Dawson," I said with a giggle of my own as I boldly went where I'd never gone before. "Maybe I want to be punished instead."

It was Dawson's turn to blush, and I took much pride in that.

He slid his hands down my side, licking his lips as he implored me with his gaze.

"Get. In. The. Car," he said sternly, and I wanted to argue.

To fight him, to instigate him.

It was second nature to me, but I also didn't want to piss him off and make him regret this entire night, so for once, I did as I was told. I climbed into the car, but I didn't miss as Dawson tugged at the tent he'd pitched in his pants before he scrambled into the driver's seat.

I watched as he took a deep breath, his hands tight on the steering wheel as if he was trying to find his own confidence, or his own way out of a deep, dark place.

Back to reality.

He turned the car on, flashing me a look when Metallica came on over the radio.

"I told you, if you were good you could pick the music," he said with a smirk. "And I am a man of my word, as you know, so go ahead, champ. Have at it."

I smugly smiled, feeling like the truck was only slightly spinning, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the alcohol, or because the way Dawson was looking at me was making me seriously debate going full bad boy and straddling his lap right here.

My desires, my thoughts, my actions... everything was a hazy blur stirring within me like some cyclone.

But I managed to keep from falling apart at the seams, languidly moving forward to gently twist the knob until I'd found a station I liked, which was playing my favorite song. Hot Blooded.

Dawson shot me a look as he pulled out of the parking lot, shaking his head as I hummed along and murmured the words to myself. At least, I thought I was singing to myself.

The entire ride home was like that. Both of us singing along to the radio like two teenagers out late on a school night.

And I'd never felt so... free.

So unequivocally me.

I'd spent the majority of my life on the sidelines. By myself. My mother always said it was because I was shy, but the reality was I just wasn't comfortable being my awkward self around most people. The world expected you to be a certain way, it classified you based on what you liked, the job you did, and the things you surrounded yourself with. I knew when people looked at me what they saw, the person they'd decided I was, and quite frankly, I didn't see the point in trying to live up to their ideals and expectations, and I didn't want to disappoint anyone. So, I just... didn't open up.

But something about Dawson made me feel like for the first time, it was okay to open up. It was okay to be me.

The me who likes to bust out into song like it's an episode of Carpool Karaoke, the me who is sarcastic, the me who is relaxed and fun, and not wound up tighter than an Egyptian mummy most of the time.

I'd barely even noticed when Dawson parked the car at the Towers. Only when the music stopped did I realize we'd been singing and laughing for nearly thirty minutes.

We both sat there in silence for a long moment, and finally, I decided to speak.

"I had... a really great time tonight," I said, not wanting this to end.

I wanted more nights where I felt alive like I did with Dawson.

Dawson moved closer to me, turning to face me. "Me too," he said softly, his gaze roving over me, before settling on my lips.

I scooted closer to him, until our thighs were brushing against one another.

"Dawson, I—"

It was my turn to be surprised, when Dawson reached out, setting his palm against my neck as he pulled me closer, popping one of my buttons as he slid his hand beneath my collar. I shifted my weight until I was practically in his lap. His lips moved against mine with a hunger that echoed my own, and I melted into him like an ice cube on the sidewalk on the Fourth of July.

"Fuck..." I groaned as his tongue slipped into my mouth again, my cock springing back to life.

Instinct took over, and I shifted my weight over his lap, straddling his lap with my thighs. My ass hit the steering wheel, but I didn't care.

Dawson moved his seat back a hair to give me room, but I didn't want room. I wanted to be as close to Dawson as I could get.

Dawson groaned in my mouth as I ground my rigid erection against his, both loving the friction and hating the barriers between us. My head was spinning.

"Nolan..." he purred, my name on his tongue stronger than any drink I'd ever had. His hand slid up my neck, fingers grasping at my hair with a tight grip, causing my cock to throb. Instinctively, I ground myself against him, needing to feel the friction.

His hands slid down my body in a rushed motion, over my hips, resting on my ass as I let my lips brush his jaw before landing over his neck. I could feel his pulse against my tongue as I licked his skin. His fingers squeezed my ass with a force that had it not been for clothes, would have left a mark. Dawson's touch was full of fire, and I wanted to burn within it.

"Fucking hell... Nolan—"

I stifled his words with my mouth, driven by need, by desire.

Two years.

I'd been dreaming of this man for two years, fantasizing about this cock for two years.

I didn't want to stop. I didn't want this perfect night to end.

Dawson thrust his hips upward, the motion causing his hardness to slide against mine through our slacks, and I moaned in response, already feeling a wet spot forming in my boxers.

I slid my hands down his chest to his waistband, my fingers ready to claim my prize.

Dawson's hand stopped me, which was like a splash of cold water.

"I think... I think we need..." His breath was coming in rapidly, and I could hear the lust in it, but already my nerves were shot as I realized what was happening.

I'd miscalculated. I was wrong.

Dawson didn't want this.

He didn't want me.

"I think we need to slow down."

And just like that, my dreams were shattered.