And there on her front porch, just beyond the glass storm door, was the incredibly attractive man she’d been expecting, looking just as sexy as the last time she’d seen him a little more than a week ago at the surprise birthday party Dylan’s family had thrown for him.
Sarah sucked in a shaky breath. With his angular jaw sporting days’ worth of beard growth and his narrow nose, his bronzed skin and dark hair glistening from the rain … Dylan Thomas was breathtaking. Even when there was a desolate sadness in his gaze, making him look out of sorts, he was still too handsome for words.
His molten chocolate eyes lifted to meet hers. The same sorrow Sarah had witnessed on multiple occasions was glowing brilliantly, and she instantly knew this was a mistake. What would happen when he crossed over the threshold into her house was anyone’s guess, but Sarah had a feeling she already knew what the outcome would be. Part of her welcomed it, but the wiser part was attempting to warn her.
She ignored that part.
“Can I come in?” he asked, the deep thunder of his voice like rough velvet against her nerve endings. Dylan cast a quick glance behind him toward the street, as though there might be someone watching, but she doubted her elderly neighbors were still awake.
With a jerky nod, Sarah pushed open the glass door and took a step back, motioning for him to follow. When he stepped inside, his sheer size instantly overwhelmed the room, making her modest house feel small. While she stood there staring at him, he closed the door behind him and Sarah took another deep breath.
All common decency fled her mind, leaving her unable to greet him properly. She didn’t even respond when he mumbled a brittle, “Hey.” Instead, she stood there, bare feet rooted to the floor as she unabashedly ogled him, steadily drawing air into her lungs while they stood less than a foot apart.
Every one of her senses was inundated by his presence. He filled her line of sight, and she admired his perfectly imperfect face. All the hard angles, the narrow slash of his nose, his sexy mouth, the beard growth that shadowed his jaw. She could smell the fresh scent of laundry detergent mixed with a subtle spice from his cologne. The only sounds she heard were the rapid thump of her own heartbeat and the labored breaths that filled her lungs. Her mouth felt as though she’d been gargling sand, so dry she struggled to swallow while her palms were still sweating. Simply put, she was a hot mess.
On top of that, she couldn’t stop staring. His broad chest, covered in the soft, black cotton of his T-shirt stretched snuggly across his impressive pectorals, drew her gaze and held it.
He stole her breath.
For half a second, Sarah mentally considered what she must look like. It was late and she’d been getting ready for bed when he’d called, so she’d had only enough time to brush her teeth, pile her unruly blond curls on top of her head in a clip, and pull on the first thing she’d found in her closet. She wasn’t wearing makeup, and she knew that without it she looked all of fifteen years old.
Then again, she felt like a teenager, too. Young, na?ve, aching for something she didn’t understand.
Remembering that Dylan was standing directly in front of her, Sarah forced her eyes away from his massive chest. She had to look up to meet his gaze. He was so much taller than she was, so much bigger, broader. It made her think of high school and how he’d been larger than life, such a great, overwhelming presence in her world.
Now, nearly twenty years later, though still just as handsome, Dylan was nothing more than a shell of the man he’d once been, and she knew that was because he’d lost his wife all those years ago. Sarah also knew that that sort of overwhelming, gut-tightening, heart-shredding grief lingered for years, far longer than she thought herself capable to handle. Her wounds were more recent—three years to his eight—but no more or less significant.
Remembering her manners, Sarah cleared her throat. “Can I get you something to drink?” she offered, her voice cracking because of her nerves. “Coffee? Tea? Water?”
Dylan didn’t respond, he simply stared, his heated gaze sliding over her, leaving chills on her skin with the slow, seductive perusal. Whatever was about to happen—and she had no doubt that something was brewing between them—could never be undone. They’d been walking this line for a few weeks now, teetering on the edge, but neither of them had given in.
They’d been smart.
Now … not so much.
Her heart cracked as she fought the memories, the emotions, the heart-wrenching feelings that she’d battled for so long. This wasn’t supposed to be happening, but she couldn’t stop it. Didn’t want to stop it.
Everything she’d endured these past three years had led her here. To this black hole of despair and emotional chaos. The only thing she wanted to do was forget. Just for a little while. And now she could. She could ignore everything else and focus on this man who was giving her the only thing she needed at the moment.
A distraction.
As though watching in slow motion, Sarah’s breath shuddered in her chest when Dylan lifted his hand, hesitantly cupping her face, his callused thumb making a few gentle swipes across her cheekbone, then slipping lower. The rough pad caressed her bottom lip and she knew she was doomed.
The warning bells were clanging loudly in her head, yet she didn’t pull away from him. His touch was … warm, tender. That affectionate gesture was enough to kick her heart into overdrive, and that yearning she’d been filled with took over.
It’d been so long since a man had touched her.
Three years. Three long, painful years.
Not since Paul. Not since before her husband’s death had rocked the very foundation of her world, leaving her nursing a broken heart as she tried to understand what had caused the man she loved, the man she had vowed to spend the rest of her life with, to take his own life.
But Sarah didn’t want to think about Paul right now. He had abandoned her, and the irrational side of her still hadn’t forgiven him.
There was a different man here. One she didn’t worry about falling in love with, didn’t worry about having her heart broken by. Not this time, anyway.
Dylan Thomas.
A different type of ghost from her past.
And Dylan was touching her. The soothing sweep of his fingers over her jaw was almost too much to bear. When his other hand released the clip from her hair, allowing the curly strands to fall past her shoulders, Sarah swallowed hard. The intensity in his dark brown eyes was enough to set her insides ablaze.
“Sa—”