The Deliverance of Dilan (The Syndicate #4) by Kathy Coopmans Page B

for leaving my friend’s wedding reception. God, I hate this. Stupid woman that I am.
    I stare at the bed that seems to be calling my name. Leaning forward, I undo the straps of my heels, flinging the damn things across the room. Who cares where they land? Those were a waste too. If I weren’t so exhausted, I could go on a laughing fit for even thinking he would notice me. He’s an asshole, that’s what he is.
    I stand and pad to the chair in the corner, snatch my phone out of my clutch, then toss it onto the chair. I know my mom will text me. Hurriedly, I drag the dress off of my body, dropping it into the chair too. I leave my bra on and take the few steps to my suitcase. I unzip it and grab my white sleep shorts. It takes a few seconds to slip them on. Then I move to the bed, not even bothering to turn off the lights, pull the covers back, climb in, and curl up into a ball. Anger sets in, more deviant now. I hate crying. Especially over him.
    I startle, flying straight up, when there’s a knock at the door. I know it’s my mom or one of the girls checking in. There’s no doubt in my mind that whoever it is, is going to try and drag me back out. All I want is to be left alone.
    I don’t want to answer it. If I don’t though, whoever it is will be calling me. I flip the covers off, mumbling for everyone to leave me be as I make my way to the door.
    “I told you I needed some time,” I say with annoyance. I unlock the door then swing it open. My eyes go wide when I see who it is. “Dilan,” I manage to crook out, giving him an icy stare. His eyes leave my face, and I watch them dilate, turning from brown to black as he starts at my neck, then slowly travels the length of my body. Oh shit. I’m half naked. I quickly gather control of my mind that could easily become inebriated on him. I drop my hand from the doorknob, ready to slam it in his face, when he gently grips my arm. He pushes his way inside while coaxing my body backwards. The door shuts automatically behind him before I can tell him to get out. He swings me around, trapping me between him and the door.
    My chest heaves up and down. I swallow nervously when his fingers ever so slightly skim up my arms. I feel the goosebumps forming in every spot he touches, leaving a firing trail of heat that makes them disappear the minute his touch roams higher, my blood forming into a liquid fire. He’s never touched me like this before. Softly. Delicately. I love it and hate it at the same time.
    “I knew you would feel like silk running through my fingers. Soft. So beautiful,” he whispers softly.
    “What are you doing here?” My hands go to his chest, trying to push him away from me. Of course, he doesn’t move backwards. No, he moves forward, his firm body unrelenting against mine. My palms flatten against his chest. Oh hell. A fire begins to smolder in my core. I feel like a hundred different flames are igniting everywhere.
    “We need to talk about a lot of things, Anna. My god, you’re beautiful.” His words are confusing. He’s switching from one thing to the next. I swallow. Not from fear, but from the way his eyes are now glued to my mouth. I can’t speak. I feel… I’m not sure what I feel. All I know is if he doesn’t step back and take his hands off of me, I may melt like snow in the blazing, hot sun, or boil like hot water. My body is scrambling at the moment, trying to decide which way of the spectrum it wants to head to.
    “Dilan. Please.” He must sense the anxiety in my voice, because before I know it, his hands are gone. He steps away. I move around him and walk to my suitcase, grab a sweatshirt, and yank it over my head. My nipples are straining against my bra from his touch. I need to be the one in control here, not my damn body.
    “Nothing is what it seems. Tonight isn’t what you think,” he divulges.
    “You have no idea what I’m thinking, Dilan. How could you? I haven’t talked to you in months.” Dilan’s pained face