between her and Dylan. It had been so easy to fall back into his arms, to let the passion and desire take over and let Dylan take her to places of ecstasy. It would probably be in her best interest to leave Dylan and Max and go on with her own life. Her feelings for Dylan were still so strong, and she wasn’t going to put herself out there to be hurt again. Trust was not a word she associated with him.
As they ate, Regan had noticed that Dylan kept trying to catch her eye, but she studiously ignored him, focusing instead on Max as he talked about the training for the next day.
“Two PT sessions with Regan and a yoga session as well,” Max said, pointing his fork at Dylan. “And put your napkin on your lap, boy. What do you think this is, some slop house?”
Regan felt her cheeks warm as she thought about how the last yoga session had ended.
“I don’t know if my shoulder can take all three,” Dylan said as he placed his napkin in his lap. “The yoga session was definitely intense.”
Regan studied her plate, her cheeks now on fire.
“Well, then that shows me that you need to continue with it,” Max said.
“I agree, Max,” Dylan said. Regan could feel his stare on her. “It was intense, but it felt really good. Really nice. Like it was something that I’d done before, but I’d forgotten how good it could feel.”
Regan wished he would just shut up with the innuendos.
“Good. Do it more often.”
“I’d like to,” Dylan said.
Regan finally glanced over at him, and he was staring at her with an absolutely wicked grin on his face.
“As much as possible, in fact,” he said.
Their eyes locked for an instant, and Regan grabbed her wine glass, taking a long swallow.
“Are you okay, Regan?” Dylan said with a glint in his eye. “You look a little . . . heated.”
She could feel his hands on her hip, his mouth on her breast, as well as the taste of him as they kissed as if it had just happened minutes ago, not hours before. Her body warmed further when she thought of his thick arousal pushing against her hot core.
That was the thing with Dylan: she had never been able to get enough of him, and here she was frustrated about what had happened earlier and dying for more.
What she needed was space from him. After finishing the rest of her wine in one long gulp, she said, “I’m feeling . . . warm, Dylan. I think I’ll turn in early tonight.”
His eyebrows shot to his hairline, and then his eyes narrowed. “You must be impatient for bedtime. It’s only seven.”
She shrugged. “I guess I could take it or leave it. Right now I just feel like lying down.”
Dylan’s face fell for a moment, but then he smiled. “Okay. Sweet dreams.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Regan lay in bed, studying the ceiling and thinking about what Dylan had said about alcohol. I lost everything that meant anything to me because of it.
Did that mean her, or did that mean his freedom? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to that.
What was going on between her and Dylan was purely physical on his part, of that she was certain. Or at least she hoped so as she couldn’t allow herself to acknowledge the feelings that were creeping in. But that was wrong. The feelings had always been there; they had just laid dormant for a long stretch of time. Being around Dylan brought them to life, and she hated that.
For the sake of self-preservation, she needed to get out of here.
Dylan had two more weeks until his fight and his shoulder was getting better. If he kept up with the yoga, he should do okay.
But he needed to do better than okay; he needed to win for Max’s sake. Regan wondered if Dylan had any idea how much was riding on this fight for Max, and decided that he most likely wouldn’t saddle Dylan with his problems.
She had taken the test to get her Arizona PT license, and was waiting for the results. Once she had those in hand, she would start looking for a job.
Or maybe she should just run back
As they ate, Regan had noticed that Dylan kept trying to catch her eye, but she studiously ignored him, focusing instead on Max as he talked about the training for the next day.
“Two PT sessions with Regan and a yoga session as well,” Max said, pointing his fork at Dylan. “And put your napkin on your lap, boy. What do you think this is, some slop house?”
Regan felt her cheeks warm as she thought about how the last yoga session had ended.
“I don’t know if my shoulder can take all three,” Dylan said as he placed his napkin in his lap. “The yoga session was definitely intense.”
Regan studied her plate, her cheeks now on fire.
“Well, then that shows me that you need to continue with it,” Max said.
“I agree, Max,” Dylan said. Regan could feel his stare on her. “It was intense, but it felt really good. Really nice. Like it was something that I’d done before, but I’d forgotten how good it could feel.”
Regan wished he would just shut up with the innuendos.
“Good. Do it more often.”
“I’d like to,” Dylan said.
Regan finally glanced over at him, and he was staring at her with an absolutely wicked grin on his face.
“As much as possible, in fact,” he said.
Their eyes locked for an instant, and Regan grabbed her wine glass, taking a long swallow.
“Are you okay, Regan?” Dylan said with a glint in his eye. “You look a little . . . heated.”
She could feel his hands on her hip, his mouth on her breast, as well as the taste of him as they kissed as if it had just happened minutes ago, not hours before. Her body warmed further when she thought of his thick arousal pushing against her hot core.
That was the thing with Dylan: she had never been able to get enough of him, and here she was frustrated about what had happened earlier and dying for more.
What she needed was space from him. After finishing the rest of her wine in one long gulp, she said, “I’m feeling . . . warm, Dylan. I think I’ll turn in early tonight.”
His eyebrows shot to his hairline, and then his eyes narrowed. “You must be impatient for bedtime. It’s only seven.”
She shrugged. “I guess I could take it or leave it. Right now I just feel like lying down.”
Dylan’s face fell for a moment, but then he smiled. “Okay. Sweet dreams.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Regan lay in bed, studying the ceiling and thinking about what Dylan had said about alcohol. I lost everything that meant anything to me because of it.
Did that mean her, or did that mean his freedom? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to that.
What was going on between her and Dylan was purely physical on his part, of that she was certain. Or at least she hoped so as she couldn’t allow herself to acknowledge the feelings that were creeping in. But that was wrong. The feelings had always been there; they had just laid dormant for a long stretch of time. Being around Dylan brought them to life, and she hated that.
For the sake of self-preservation, she needed to get out of here.
Dylan had two more weeks until his fight and his shoulder was getting better. If he kept up with the yoga, he should do okay.
But he needed to do better than okay; he needed to win for Max’s sake. Regan wondered if Dylan had any idea how much was riding on this fight for Max, and decided that he most likely wouldn’t saddle Dylan with his problems.
She had taken the test to get her Arizona PT license, and was waiting for the results. Once she had those in hand, she would start looking for a job.
Or maybe she should just run back
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