A Crack in Everything (Cracks Book 1)

  When he had them off, he moved to my knickers. I noticed his hands shaking very slightly as he drew them down over my hips.

  “What—”

  “Please, don’t say anything,” he begged. “If you do I might lose my nerve.”

  I squeezed my lips shut, amazed by his nervousness and how tentative he was. Dylan wasn’t normally a hesitant person. His throat bobbed as he swallowed and closed his eyes for a second. He slipped his fingers under the elastic of my knickers and drew them down my legs. Next, he reached under me to unclip the back of my bra.

  A few seconds later I was naked under his close, attentive gaze. “You’re perfect,” he said, in awe. I didn’t bother to correct him with all the reasons why I wasn’t. I was happy to pretend. Then, a rush of anxiety flooded me, because I was completely nude. Things were getting really fucking real, but I didn’t let it overwhelm me.

  “Dylan.”

  “Hmm?” he murmured absentmindedly, his attention on my body.

  “Kiss me.”

  “I . . . have every intention,” he replied, but he still wasn’t looking at my face. Instead his gaze was pinned between my legs as he pulled my thighs apart and settled his shoulders between them. He studied me like a painting on a wall, or a menu at a particularly expensive restaurant.

  My pulse skyrocketed when he ran a finger down my centre, one eyebrow twitching, head tilted. Intrigue, curiosity, and stark arousal coloured his expression.

  I took a mental picture for my memories, at the same time starting to hyperventilate.

  “What are you—?”

  My words became a sharp, surprised yelp when Dylan lowered his mouth and kissed me in my most private of places. He made a deep, raspy sound in the back of his throat. Then, capturing my gaze in his, he dragged his tongue right along my centre. It flicked at the place where the pleasure was centralized, and I let out a high-pitched whimper.

  “God,” I breathed.

  He paused, unsure. “Am I—?”

  “Don’t stop.”

  He heeded my request and lowered his mouth to me once more. He licked and sucked, swirled his tongue around my clit until I was fisting the sheets, hips tilted upward, needing more.

  His hand moved along my inner thigh, sending sparks of electricity right through me. Every touch from him, no matter how small, set my entire body alight. He groaned, like he was enjoying this just as much as I was. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated on what he was doing. I didn’t want to miss a moment. His soft, wet tongue licking me was by far the best thing I’d ever felt in my life.

  It was a flippin’ miracle.

  “The last time”—he breathed in between licks—“when you . . . came under me. It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Funny he should mention that, because I was very close to coming again, this time on his mouth.

  I trembled and clenched my thighs around him.

  “I never said—”

  “I know what I felt, Ev. Don’t try to deny it,” he countered and I shut up. He was right. There was no point denying it. He made me come from nothing but a few kisses and some carefully applied friction.

  I let out a loud, erotic moan, a sound I’d never made before. It seemed to turn Dylan on even more because his licks became more aggressive. He swirled his tongue around my clit, and I felt like I’d died and gone to heaven.

  Gripping his shoulders, I stared at him, unable to take my eyes off the way he worshipped me.

  “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

  “Never,” he said, a sexy grin tilting his lips. “But, um, I’ve had a lot of mental preparation.”

  That meant he’d been thinking about it. Thinking about it a lot.

  I emitted a shuddering breath as pleasure gripped me. Dylan’s large hands were on my thighs, massaging me, exploring my skin, when my orgasm hit. It was swift and intense, much more so than the last time, and there were several waves of it. The first was exquisite, with each one petering out until I was no more than a sated mass beneath him.

  Dylan rested his chin on my stomach and stared at me. His mouth glistened with my wetness, his hair askew. It must’ve been my doing, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember. His mouth was like drinking a whole bottle of vodka. You blacked out, but you knew you had a bloody good time.

  “I could watch you do that on repeat for the rest of my life,” he said, awed. He seemed fascinated that he had the ability to make my body do things. Amazed that the stuff he’d thus far only imagined in his head actually worked in practice.

  “That’d be a pretty sweet existence,” I said, gazing down at him tenderly.

  We remained locked in one another’s gazes for a while, and Dylan seemed content to just lie between my naked legs forever.

  “Not interested in moving any time soon?” I asked, playful.

  He shook his head. “I think I’ve found my happy place.”

  I laughed at that. “Well, it doesn’t seem fair that I’m the only one without clothes on.”

  He smirked. “You’ll get over it.”

  I laughed again at his cheekiness and reached down to pull his shirt up over his head. His wide, defined shoulders were a sight to behold, but he acted like his body was nothing to brag about. He didn’t seem to understand that his nakedness was just as much of a turn-on to me as mine was to him.

  I was fairly sure he didn’t work out, but he’d been blessed with a natural shape. He wasn’t hugely muscular, but his biceps stood out, as did the cut lines of his obliques. I swept my hands over his shoulders and down his impressive back. He was perfect.

  “Beautiful,” I whispered.

  “I told you, Ev, men aren’t—”

  “You’re beautiful, Dylan,” I said firmly, making sure he knew it was true.

  He shook his head. “If you say so.”

  One day I’d make him believe it, but right now I just wanted to be close to him. Resting my palms flat on his chest, I ran them down his abs until they reached his belt buckle. I never broke eye contact as I carefully undid it, looking up when Dylan’s breathing became erratic.

  “We probably shouldn’t—”

  “I just want to lie here with you. We don’t have to do anything.”

  Honestly, after the intensity of him going down on me, I wasn’t sure I could handle sex. But I craved intimacy. When I went to lower his boxer shorts he grabbed my hands to stop me.

  “You’re eager,” he said, a hint of a smile touching his lips.

  I flushed, embarrassed. Was I being too forward?

  Dylan must’ve read my thoughts when he reassured me, “Don’t worry, Ev. There’s nothing about any of this I don’t like.”

  I swallowed down my self-consciousness then watched as Dylan took off his last item of clothing. I stared at him a second too long perhaps, but that was only because I’d never seen a naked boy before. Naked man. And his penis was erect, but that made sense, considering what we’d just been doing. I had no idea if it was big or average, but it definitely wasn’t small.

  I decided it was probably average, because it didn’t frighten me. I imagined a large penis would be pretty scary to a first-timer. And anyway, what would I do with a huge cock? I’d need a giant vagina and . . .

  Jesus, Evelyn, think about something else. Anything.

  My mouth dried up, and I directed my gaze elsewhere. Turning, I went to climb under my covers. I focused on the picture of Jared Leto on my wall when Dylan climbed in and spooned me from behind. I could feel all of him.

  He was warm and solid.

  It felt like being hugged by a bear with no fur.

  Okay, that was a weird thought.

  Anyway.

  My racing mind mimicked my racing nerves, but when Dylan placed his hand flat on my stomach and rubbed in a soothing rhythm I started to relax.

  “That feels nice.”

  “You feel nice.”

  I smiled to myself and turned my head a little so I could nuzzle the underside of his
jaw. His hand moved to cup my breast, and I heard a light rain patter against the window. The nuzzling quickly transformed into kissing and I sighed at the melty sensation of his body surrounding me. My eyes were closed but I was very aware of his erection rubbing against the back of my thigh.

  It was warm here.

  And safe.

  I loved kissing him.

  I could kiss him forever.

  If only I could.

  He groaned into my mouth, and a gruff breath escaped him when he rolled us over. He grew impassioned as he settled himself between my legs and I gasped at the feel of his cock against me.

  “Evelyn,” he breathed, kissing my neck and moving down to my breasts.

  I yelped when he circled his tongue around my nipple, tweaking the other between his fingers.

  “Oh God,” I cried.

  “Does that feel good?”

  “Yes! Don’t stop.”

  “Christ.”

  “Dylan.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Make love to me.”

  My name was a growl on his tongue. “Ev.”

  He rose up and held himself above me. Breathless, he asked, “Are you sure?”

  I nodded fervently. “I’m sure.”

  Then I dragged his mouth to mine. Our kiss was slow and languid as his hips began to move. His erection nudged at me, and I loved the hard feel of it. He started to push inside and there was a stretching sensation. His expression was agonised. I could tell he wanted to push harder, but I was too tight. I felt a sharp pain when he slowly pushed all the way in.

  “Jesus,” I gasped and gripped his shoulders.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, nibbling at my ear.

  “Don’t be sorry. Keep going.”

  “God, this feels incredible. You feel fucking incredible, Ev.”

  I was happy it felt good for him, but all I felt was sore. The pain held a pleasurable edge though, and the longer he was inside me, the more the pain faded. It was still there, but it was duller now.

  I focused on his dark blue eyes, his masculine mouth and defined jaw as he moved above me. I thought about our little lives and how it took me so long to find him, even though he’d been right under my nose the whole time.

  I wondered how many other people there were in the world like that. Their soulmate could be living three doors down, but the idea just never occurred to them to say hello.

  I ran my fingers through his close-cropped hair. It felt soft, similar to what I imagined a cloud might feel like. My hand wandered down his neck and over the moving muscles in his back. His expression was intense, brows drawn, like he was concentrating really hard.

  Concentrating on me. On us.

  I think I loved him.

  Something about the moment, feeling the connection between us, made me realise it was true. The words were on the tip of my tongue when Dylan let out a raspy groan, his body stilling. Heat filled me and I gasped with the realisation. He’d just come.

  His body fell on top of me, and he nuzzled the crook of my neck, whispering sweet things.

  “You are . . . so incredible.”

  I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around him. I didn’t want to let him go. I knew I had to, but not yet. With that thought in my head I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up Dylan was gone. My bed felt empty and the space between my legs was sore. The faint morning light told me a long few hours had passed and Yvonne would be home. Dylan must’ve left before she got back though, because if she caught him I was sure I’d have been woken by the drama.

  Sitting up I glanced at my bedside locker, but there was no note. I checked my phone, but there were no messages either. Nothing to show that Dylan had been here at all, except my messier than usual bed sheets.

  I left my bed, took a shower, and got dressed. Some early morning gardening might help to settle my frantic mind. We lost our virginity to each other last night. It would’ve been nice to wake up with his arms still around me. Then again, I knew he had to leave. Yvonne sometimes came into my room to check on me when she got home from work. And like I said, if she found a boy in my bed, all hell would’ve broken loose.

  It was a cold but bright morning when I reached the roof. No Mrs O’Flaherty or Seamus today. She was more of a mid-morning gardener and it was only six thirty. I worked for a good while before I heard footsteps approach.

  When I looked up, the morning sun shone on the back of his head. It made the golden flecks in his hair glint, giving the effect of a halo. I pulled off my gloves and he smiled at me, his attention wandering from the haphazard bun atop my head, to the rumpled hoodie I wore. I’d never been much of a glam girl, not unless I was going somewhere fancy.

  “Hello,” I said, my voice unexpectedly hoarse. Last night had been a big deal. It had been a big deal to both of us.

  “Hey,” Dylan replied and came to sit beside me. He had a small paper bag in one hand and a thermos in the other. “I thought I’d find you up here.”

  “It’s my happy place,” I said, then blushed when I remembered him saying something similar last night as he lay between my thighs.

  His mouth twitched ever so slightly as he set down the bag and thermos. “I brought breakfast.”

  I raised an eyebrow. That was sweet of him. “Oh.” Twisting open the thermos, I found tea, but I gasped when I opened the bag. I glanced at him, mouth agape, “Are these—?”

  He nodded. “Miracle berries. I had to traipse all the way over to the south side to find them. The only place that sells them is this fancy gourmet food market.”

  I smiled so wide my face hurt. “Dylan, I can’t believe you did that for me.”

  His expression was serious. “I’d do a lot more than that for you, Ev.”

  Those words warmed my chest as I picked up a small red berry and placed it in my mouth.

  “You need to chew it up and hold it for a minute, and make sure you spread it around with your tongue,” Dylan instructed.

  I did, then I pulled the wrapper off one of the sour candies he’d brought. Usually, I hated these types of sweets. My taste buds weren’t fond of sour, but when I ate the candy it tasted miraculously sweet, not at all tart.

  “It’s so sweet. Incredible. You try one,” I urged, pushing the bag at him.

  Dylan ate a miracle berry, followed by a candy, smiling at me all the while. “Yep, you’re right. It’s a miracle,” he said fondly.

  “So cool. I can’t wait to show Yvonne and Sam.”

  Dylan nodded, and we were both quiet a moment as we stared into the distance, watching the city wake up. You could see most of the Dublin skyline. The familiar buildings had always been reassuring to me. I’d never been anywhere else.

  Dylan’s idea of another life, a better one, nipped at the walls of my heart, working its way into my desires. What were other cities like? The people? The culture? What if all I ever knew was this one place? Would that be that enough?

  I looked at him. He still gazed outward, giving me his full profile. I studied him a moment, tracing the lines of a face I adored in spite of everything.

  “Dylan?” I whispered.

  “Yes?” he replied, turning to face me. I wondered where his mind had been just then. Perhaps it was years ahead, in a far-off place, enjoying a life currently out of reach. Like a child eager to hear a bedtime story, I wanted to know where that was, who he would be in the future. And I wanted to know if there was a place there for me.

  “Tell me about your dreams.”

  Chapter 9

  “I want to make a difference,” Dylan answered after a long moment of consideration.

  “Like Mother Theresa?”

  He smirked and shook his head. “No, Ev, not like Mother Theresa. Don’t get me wrong, I do want to help people, but I just don’t think sainthood is the way to go.”

  “What’s the way to go then?” I asked.

  “Well, first you need money, and to make it you’ve got to go the route of capitalism. So really, I need something I
can sell. I just don’t know what that thing is yet.”

  “You could invent a product,” I suggested.

  “Maybe. Or I could have someone invent one for me.”

  “Nah, you’re far too clever not come up with something on your own.”

  “Being clever doesn’t mean you’re inventive,” said Dylan. “I can sell anything to anyone though, I’m certain of that.”

  I smiled and glanced at my allotment. Reaching out, I plucked a jasmine flower from the plant and handed it to him. “Okay, then, sell me this.”

  Dylan’s eyes crinkled in amusement as he took the flower. He gave it a long sniff and spun it between his fingers, pondering it a moment.

  “You said one of your favourite things is the smell of jasmine in the mornings.”

  I nodded. “My gran taught me how to steep the flowers in water to scent a room.”

  “So, it’s the scent that holds value, rather than the flower?”

  “You could say that.”

  He went quiet for a second, thoughtful, then said, “What if I could capture the essence of that fresh jasmine scent? No oils or tinctures, no false replicas, just jasmine in its purest form? What if I bottled it so you never had to go to the trouble of growing the flowers, picking them, boiling the water, etc, would you buy it?”

  I pursed my lips, considering it. It was a very lengthy process, especially when you factored in actually growing the jasmine. I guess if Dylan could create a product like that I might buy it.

  “Maybe in years to come, when I have a job and don’t have so much time in the mornings, sure, I’d buy it. I still love to grow the flowers though.”

  “But most people don’t. Most people want instant gratification. And that’s where I come in. I want to sell them something that gratifies them, and in the process, change my life and maybe the lives of others, too.”

  “How would you change other people’s lives?”

  “If I create a business, I create jobs. If my business is successful I might even be rich enough to give to charity, help those who don’t have the resources to help themselves.”

  I studied him a moment, surprised by his philanthropic aspirations. I mean, I didn’t think he was selfish, but I didn’t know he wanted to help people in such a big way either.