Hating You, Loving You

by Crystal Kaswell

  Like it's everything.

  When he's finished, he pulls me to my feet.

  He wraps his arms around my waist.

  And he kisses me like he's never going to let go.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chloe

  Dean joins me in the shower.

  His hard, wet body presses against mine as we move past each other.

  He runs his fingers through my hair as he helps me shampoo and condition. I rise to my tiptoes to do the same to him.

  He catches me when I slip.

  He presses his soft, wet lips to mine.

  Rubs soap over my shoulders, arms, back, chest, stomach.

  I take my time exploring every inch of his torso. Hard muscles. Soft skin. All those lines of ink.

  He feels good against my fingertips.

  Right.

  I'm ready to spend eternity in the shower with Dean.

  Until I hear the whir of the garage door.

  Shit.

  What the hell is Dad doing home?

  I press my back against my bedroom door. Suck a shallow breath through my teeth.

  Today is out to get me. Or at least to give me an anxiety attack.

  Dean chuckles as he pulls his boxers on. "Relax." He steps into his jeans. "I know what I'm doing."

  Maybe he does, but I don't. "My dad has never caught me with a guy."

  "He knows we're fucking."

  "How do you figure?"

  "The way he looked at me when I picked you up." He pulls his t-shirt on. "He was deciding if I was worth his daughter's time."

  "And?"

  "Pretty sure he liked me."

  He did like Dean.

  And he did send me that sassy text.

  I'm sure Dad realizes I have a sex life. Even if I didn't have a sex life until last night.

  Dean moves to my dresser. Opens my underwear drawer. Tosses me a pair of panties. "Though I'd prefer if you skipped them."

  "How did you—"

  "That pic you sent." He runs his fingers through his wet hair. "Fuck. I can't think about that or I'm gonna get hard."

  "You remember it that well?"

  His nod is pure need.

  It's everything.

  It's completely inappropriate with my dad's footsteps downstairs.

  But it's still incredibly hot.

  "You home, Chloe," he calls.

  Fuck me. Seriously. How do people deal with having sex in high school? This is mortifying.

  "Yeah. I'll be down in a minute," I say.

  I fight my blush as I get into my clothes. I'm still wet. My jeans don't want to cooperate. I have to coax them into it.

  There.

  I find a bra in my drawer. A black tank top.

  Dean wraps his arms around my waist.

  His touch calms me instantly.

  "You'll be okay, sunshine." He plants a kiss on my neck. "I promise."

  I nod. He's right. This is no big deal. Just my dad getting home minutes after my boyfriend came on my chest.

  Is Dean my boyfriend?

  I can't even say hey, Dad, you know my boyfriend. More like hey, dad, you know my boss, who I am clearly having sex with.

  Ugh.

  Dean's chuckle bounces around the room. "How about you let me lead?"

  I shake my head.

  "You trust me?"

  "Terrifyingly enough, yes."

  "Then let me handle this."

  Uh…

  He holds his hands up. "Your call."

  Dad did like him immediately.

  Everyone likes Dean immediately.

  Maybe he does know what he's doing.

  "Okay. But if I give you the signal, that's it. I'm taking over," I say.

  "What's the signal?" He chuckles.

  I tap my nose three times.

  "Sure." He motions after you. "I lead until the signal."

  "Don't mock the signal."

  "I wouldn't dare." He follows me into the hallway.

  My fingers skim the railing as I move downstairs. My feet are still wet. My footsteps are slippery.

  "Hey, Dad." I step into the living room. "What are you doing home?" I cross my arms reflexively. Is there really a better time to be defensive?

  "Meeting finished early." His gaze shifts to Dean. "I guess I don't have to ask what you're doing here."

  My cheeks flush. "We were in the neighborhood. For the test."

  "Oh." Dad looks to Dean. "It's that serious?"

  "Yeah." Dean steps into the living room. Runs his fingers through my wet hair. "Can I be honest?"

  Dad laughs. "I should hope you're always honest."

  Dean nods true. "I adore your daughter."

  Dad's gaze flits from me to Dean then back to me. "And you, Chloe?"

  "And I…?" Why is he being so cool about this? He just caught us in the act. After the act. Close enough.

  "He's asking if you like me or if you're only in this for my body." Dean slides his arm around my waist. "No one would blame you for the latter."

  "No. I like you a lot too." My cheeks flush. "Is this the time for this conversation?"

  "I figured you'd have that worked out by now." Dad moves into the kitchen and grabs the coffee from a high shelf. "But Chloe has always been particular."

  "I am not particular." My voice breaks into a teenage whine. "I just have high standards."

  "Pretty sure that's another way of saying particular," Dean says.

  "Maybe we should get out of your hair," I offer. "Traffic shouldn't be too bad yet."

  "No. Stay for dinner." Dad smiles at Dean. "Unless you have plans."

  "Can't think of anything I'd rather do," Dean says.

  Dad beams. "I'll call Gia."

  God help me.

  Gia twirls her fork, scooping strands of pasta. "So, Dean… what have you been doing since high school?"

  Dean looks to me and raises a brow. What's she getting at?

  I'm not really sure. Dad skipped the thorough grilling in favor of coffee (tea for us) and conversations about action movies. He gave us space to make dinner while he and Gia collaborated on the best way to torture us.

  My older sister loves torturing me.

  But then she's protective too.

  I don't know if she's teasing me or calling Dean out.

  I shrug. He might as well answer honestly. Dean is Dean. They're going to like him or not.

  "I did my apprenticeship at this place downtown with the same guy who taught my older brother. It was a lot of grunt work and I made twenty bucks a day, but I got to learn to do ink. When my brother jumped ship to go to Inked Hearts, he got me a job. We bought the place from the previous owner last year." Dean sucks a noodle from his fork. Chews. Swallows. Smiles that wicked smile of his. Take that, judgmental sister.

  "You're an owner? Hmm." Gia stabs a piece of broccoli with her fork. Stares at it like it did her wrong. "That's not what I would have guessed."

  "I know. It's not fair. All this beauty and brains too." Dean shrugs with mock humility. "Don't worry. It was ego that got me to buy the shop. Not intellect."

  This time, Gia shoots me that what is he getting at look.

  This time, I know.

  "You're smarter than you let on-" I stumble on my old pet name/insult for Dean. Dick face doesn't work anymore. But what does? "Sweetie." No. Too cute.

  It does light up his eyes.

  God, he has such nice eyes. That bright, clear, gorgeous blue.

  "He's here with you. As far as I'm concerned, he's a genius," Dad says.

  Gia laughs. "You're so cheesy."

  "You'll be the same way when you have kids," Dad says.

  My sister's gaze stays on Dean. "So, you really came with Chloe for her test?"

  "Had to beg her, but yeah," he says. "Should have seen me. It was pathetic. I was on my knees."

  "I bet." Gia smiles knowingly. "So are you two like… boyfriend girlfriend."

  I clear my throat.

  Dad shakes his head. "I a

sked the same thing hours ago. They still haven't worked out an answer."

  Dean laughs. "I tried. But Chloe wouldn't hear it."

  "We were cooking!" I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Everyone here is on my side. It's too much attention, yes, but I can handle it.

  "What do you think, sunshine, you want to be my girlfriend?" he asks.

  My chest warms. "Yeah. Definitely."

  "There you go." Dean shrugs like it's no big deal, but his expression betrays him. His eyes are even brighter. He's beaming like the sun.

  "You call her sunshine when you're—" Gia motions to my bedroom upstairs.

  God. I hide behind my hands.

  Dean chuckles. "Pretty sure Chlo' will kill me if I offer that information."

  "Could you not bring up my sex life in front of our father?" I try to ignore them in favor of my spaghetti marinara, but the rich, tomato flavor does nothing to distract me.

  "You're too uptight, baby girl," Dad says. "This is the time in your life where you should be having fun."

  My cheeks flame red.

  This conversation needs to go away. Now. "Can you berate Gia for sticking with Mark then?"

  "I tried for a long time," Dad says. "But she loves the guy."

  Gia's eyes get soft. Dreamy. It's sweet. All this time and she's still the high school girl who giggled over their first kiss. She's still innocent. Cheery. Optimistic about the world.

  Right now…

  No, I'm not thinking about the test results.

  I'm borrowing my sister's optimism.

  And Dean's… well, I'm not sure how to describe Dean's outlook on life.

  But I'm borrowing it.

  "What was it that happened between the two of you? I think it was Chloe's junior year. One day, she went from going on and on about how much she hated you, to moping around the house in all black, hugging her sketchbook like it was her best friend." Gia's nose scrunches and she chews and swallows another broccoli floret. "I mean, it was barely different than normal. But it was noticeable."

  I flip my sister off.

  She returns the gesture with a hearty laugh. "See? She's always been kinda pissed. Not that I blame her. I was pissed at the universe after Mom."

  Dean's eyes find mine. He raises a brow. You want to take this, or should I?

  I nod go ahead.

  He turns to Gia. "I was a stupid kid. Didn't realize what I had."

  "So, you were always into Chloe?" she asks.

  He looks to me. "I don't know what it is about you, sunshine, but you've always been under my skin."

  "You know I'll kill you if you hurt her," Gia says.

  Dean nods. "Wouldn't expect anything less."

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chloe

  Dad and Gia revel in the chance to embarrass me. They spill every mortifying story—the first time I gushed about Dean, the first time I ranted about him, the sex dream I shared with Gia in confidence (she pinkie swore!), the time I wore my lap suit to a pool party, the day my kindergarten teacher called my parents because she was worried my drawings were too downer.

  When we leave, Gia says goodbye with a tight hug and a quiet whisper. "Call me as soon as you know the results."

  I nod like I'll tell her.

  I will. Eventually.

  After I process this without everyone else's feelings hanging over me.

  I let Dean drive. Let my thoughts wander as the city whizzes by the windows. Los Angeles may not have much of a skyline compared to New York or Seattle, but the tall buildings are beautiful in the dark.

  There's something about Southern California. The fluorescent yellow of street and city lights turns the sky a soft blue. Casts a cream glow over the grey tree trunks, the green leaves, the off-white pavement, the charcoal roads.

  The sounds of grunge fill the car. Dean doesn't ask what I'm thinking and I don't offer. I just rest my head on the window, press my eyelids together, and let the stress of the day roll around my head.

  I stir as he pulls off the freeway.

  It's three turns to his place.

  He finds a spot on the street. Of course. Lucky bastard.

  The music ceases as he turns the car off. He spins the keys around his forefinger. "It's a long drive."

  "It goes fast."

  "You have to come back tomorrow morning. We have a ten o'clock."

  I nod.

  His lips curl into a half-smile. "Sunshine, I'm asking if you want to spend the night."

  "Oh."

  "Indirect isn't my strong suit."

  "It was confusing, yeah."

  "Let's try this again." He undoes his seatbelt and offers his hand. "You want to come in and fuck me?"

  "Yes, please."

  The second the lock clicks, I pounce.

  My hand goes to Dean's bright blue t-shirt. I grab the soft fabric and tug him closer.

  He presses his palm to my lower back.

  Brings the other to the back of my head.

  Plants a long, soft kiss on my lips.

  My stomach flutters. My heart thuds. My veins buzz with desire.

  God, he's a good kisser.

  But that isn't enough.

  I slip my hand under his t-shirt. Press my palm against his soft skin. "Bedroom. Now."

  He nods as he brings both hands to my ass.

  In one swift motion, he lifts me into his arms.

  I squeal as I wrap my legs around him.

  "I can bench three hundred pounds, sunshine. You're nothing."

  "I'm deceptively heavy." My fingers curl into his skin. "All muscle."

  "Yeah. But still tiny." He kicks the bedroom door open. Takes three steps. Lays me down on the bed.

  I stare up at him as he pulls off his t-shirt.

  The moon streams through the windows, casting highlights over the lines of his body. God, those lines run deep. The man is built.

  "Clothes off." He moves to the bedside table and pulls a condom from the drawer.

  "You first." I push myself up. Crawl across the bed to his spot. Move onto my knees.

  I run my fingers over his torso as I press my lips to his chest.

  Fuck, he's so incredibly yummy. It defies logic.

  This is what I need.

  His body and mine and nothing else.

  I was wrong before. I didn't need to rediscover my body before my test. The test itself is nothing. It's the results.

  I need to find bliss now.

  If I'm sick again, that's it. No more trying to forgive my body. No more waiting around while everyone watches me disappear. No more waiting, period.

  This is my time.

  I have to seize it.

  Carpe fucking diem.

  I'm a cliché, but I don't care.

  Not right now. Not when I'm here.

  I drag my fingertips down Dean's sculpted torso. Below his belly button. To that soft tuft of hairs.

  My fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans.

  I undo the button. The zipper. Go to push them off his hips.

  His fingers curl around my wrist. "On your back." He climbs onto the bed next to me. Brings his hand to my cheek. "I need to be inside of you."

  "I need to kiss you." I climb into his lap. One hand goes to his light hair. The other goes to his back.

  My fingers dig into his skin as I bring my lips to his.

  I suck on his bottom lip softly. Then harder.

  He scrapes his teeth against my top lip.

  His hands slip beneath my tank top. They go right to my breasts.

  He traces the outline of my bra again and again.

  His tongue slides into my mouth.

  His thumbs slip into my bra.

  He toys with my nipples as he kisses me.

  I shift my hips, swing a leg over his so I'm straddling him.

  He's hard under me. Even with our jeans in the way, I can feel him.

  I grind against him, so my clit is rubbing against his length.

  Fuck.

  That's intense.

  Pleasure pools between my legs. Every brush of his thumbs sends a pang of lust straight to my core.

  My nails dig into his skin. My tongue dances with his.

  I move faster. Kiss him harder. Kiss him with everything I have.

  He pulls back with a heavy sigh. Drags his fingertips down my stomach. Does away with my tank top.

  My hands go to the back of my bra. I start to unhook it, but my fingers freeze.

  This is our third time being here, but it still feels new.

  It’s still terrifying.

  Slowly, I slide my bra off one shoulder, then the other.

  His eyes go wide as he takes me in.

  His soft, low groan erases every doubt in my head.

  In his eyes, I'm not weird or broken or pieced together.

  I'm whole.

  He brings his hands to my lower back. Pulls both of us up the bed. Straightens us.

  He lies down, his head on his pillow, his back against the sheets.

  His hands find my chest. He cups my breasts softly.

  Not like they're strange and foreign.

  Like he's reveling in the feel of them.

  One hand plants between my shoulder-blades.

  He pulls my body into his. Until my chest is against his mouth.

  When his lips close around my nipple, I feel it.

  The line between my body and soul dissolves.

  I am my body.

  I'm the tight feeling in my nipples, the ache between my legs, the pounding of my heart.

  The last hint of tension in my shoulders melts.

  The day fades away.

  The future fades away.

  Everything else fades away.

  It's just me and Dean and all this bliss.

  He strips me out of my jeans then presses his palm against me, over my panties.

  I rock my hips, grinding against his fingers, reveling in the friction of the soft fabric.

  It feels good, but it's not enough.

  I need him inside me.

  I shift sideways. Fall onto the bed on my back. Turn my neck so we're face-to-face.

  God, I love his face. The blue eyes. The strong nose. The soft lips. The sculpted jawline.

  "Fuck me." I push my panties to my ankles. Kick them off. "Now."

  His nod is heavy. Needy.

  He undoes his jeans. Arches his back to push them, and his boxers, off his hips.

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