They fall onto the floor in front of the bed.
Finally, we're exactly where we need to be.
Nothing between us.
He kneels next to me and tears the condom wrapper open with his teeth.
He drags his fingertips over my skin with a feather soft touch. Down my stomach. Up my thigh. Closer and closer and—
There.
His fingers brush my clit.
Softly.
Then harder.
He drags his hand lower. Teases me with one finger. Two.
Again.
Again.
There.
He slides two fingers inside me.
Fuck. The pressure of his digits is intense. But it's not enough.
"Dean." I arch my hips, pushing his fingers deeper.
My breath hitches as he drives into me.
I forget what I'm asking for. Only that I need it.
He rolls the condom over his cock.
Looks at me with this intoxicating mix of desire and need.
"Now," I plead. This feels so fucking good, but I'm greedy. I want more. I want everything.
"Spread your legs."
I do.
Slowly, he pulls his hand away. He brings his first two fingers to his lips. Sucks the taste of me from his digits.
My sex clenches.
He places himself between my legs.
His fingers curl into my hips as he lifts me into the air. Brings my body to his.
His tip strains against me.
Then it's one inch at a time.
He stares into my eyes as he slides inside me.
My fingers curl into the sheets. It's been a long, long time. This is a lot.
My lips press together.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
"Breathe, baby." He holds my body against his. Strokes the flesh of my ass with his fingertips.
I just barely nod.
"We can take this as slow as you need."
But that's the thing. I don't need slow. I need fast. I need him splitting me in half.
Deep breath.
Steady exhale.
We're making up, my body and me. If it needs slow, I can respect that.
Dean and I have a lot of time to fuck.
Well… we might not.
But we have all of tonight.
"Look at me." His voice is soft. Sweet.
I blink my eyes open.
God, there's something so intoxicating about the way he's looking at me. He needs me, yes, but it's more than a carnal thing.
He needs all of me.
I hold Dean's gaze as he pulls back then shifts into me again.
I'm ready. I'm wet. I'm antsy. I'm aching.
But the pressure is still intense. As much as I can take.
He lays me down. Lowers his body onto mine. One hand plants outside my shoulder. The other knots in my hair.
He strokes my temple with his thumb.
He brings his lips to mine.
He kisses me as he drives into me.
Slowly.
Softly.
Then faster.
Harder.
His tongue slips into my mouth.
His cock pushes deeper.
Bit by bit, my body relaxes. My legs wrap around his hips. My arms wrap around his chest.
I break out of the kiss. Stare up into his eyes. Nod. Yes, more, please, faster.
He holds me close as he rocks into me with long, steady strokes.
His groans vibrate down my throat.
He drives into me again and again.
Pleasure floods my pelvis. It spreads out through my torso, my limbs, my fingers and toes.
With every thrust, he winds me tighter.
I rock my hips, moving with him, pushing him deeper.
Deeper.
Fuck.
I pull back to groan his name.
My eyelids flutter open. The room is a blur of moonlight and white walls and soft sheets and skin and sweat.
And Dean.
I nestle my head in the crook of his neck.
I wrap my arms around him.
We stay locked together like that, holding each other, moving together.
He keeps that same slow, steady pace.
He fills me with deep steady thrusts.
I hold on to the bliss as long as I can. Until the tension inside me winds as tight as I can take it.
Then tighter.
Tighter.
Fuck.
With his next thrust, I go over the edge.
My nails dig into his back. My lips find his neck. I suck on his soft skin as I come.
My sex pulses with my orgasm. Pleasure spills through every molecule of my body. Everything goes white. Nothing but the pure, blinding light of bliss.
I suck a breath through my nose as I come down.
He looks down at me like I'm his salvation.
Maybe I am. If he really has been spending the last few years with that empty spot in his gut. The one that can only be filled with loving someone and letting them love you.
I want that so badly. To have that well of trust inside me. That willingness to drag someone through hell with me.
My eyes close.
My lips find his.
He kisses me as he drives into me. His strokes speed then steady.
I get lost in the motions of our bodies.
Until he's there, groaning my name into my neck, pulsing inside me.
Kissing me like I'm everything he needs.
Chapter Thirty
Dean
At work, Ryan is sitting at the front desk, scribbling a mock-up into his sketchbook, cup of coffee by his side.
His eyes dart from his paper to me. "Can't remember the last time I saw that look."
I drop my backpack in my suite. Cross the room to the counter. "This is my everyday look."
"No." He stares into my eyes, picking me apart in that Ryan kind of way. "You're happy."
"I'm always happy."
He shakes his head. "You're always amusing yourself. But this is different. Like… no… that's not possible."
"No?" I hoist myself onto the counter. Tap my feet together. "Go on."
"Nah. I must be imagining shit."
"Yours is vivid."
His smile gets dreamy. He looks out the windows, taking in the blue sky and the ocean view.
He sighs that I'm thinking about Leighton sigh.
At first it was sweet. It was nice not seeing him a miserable shell of himself.
Then I got sick of the swooning.
But now…
Fuck, it's like I want to hug him or something. Don't get me wrong. I always want to hug Ryan. My older brother is squeamish about affection from anyone but Leighton. Hugging him is fucking with him.
And fucking with people is my favorite pastime.
Damn. I'm losing track of my point. It's Chloe. My brain keeps going back to her. The way her lips part with her groan. The way her back arches. The way she pulses around me.
But my brain doesn't stop at sex.
Her smile, her laugh, the trust in her eyes, the soft murmur as she falls asleep, the way her fingers curl into my skin when she's nervous—it's all bouncing around my brain.
"Fuck. That is it." Ryan drops his pen. "You're into someone."
"Get real."
"Wish I could." Incredulity streaks his expression. "How the fuck did this happen?"
I offer him my best coy shrug.
"Dean. Don't fucking tell me—"
"Wasn't gonna tell you."
"Don't tell me it's Chloe."
"Wasn't gonna tell you," I repeat.
His brow furrows. "Fuck. Seriously?"
Am I really this easy to read? "Don't know what you're talking about."
Right on cue, the bell rings. Chloe's footsteps move toward the counter.
Ryan's gaze flits from her to me. Then back to her. "Are you fucking Dean?"
Her cheeks flush. She stops dead in her tracks. De
er in headlights.
Busted.
Ryan shakes his head. "Ask you to do one thing."
"It's not like that." The earnest tone of my voice burns my ears. This is fucking weird. "It's serious."
"You're serious?" Surprise creeps into his voice. He looks to Chloe for some help, but she's still deer in headlights.
Slowly, she nods. "It is."
"Shit, really?" Ryan runs a hand through his wavy hair. "You two ever planning on telling the rest of us?"
"Not really, no," I say.
"With all due respect, Ryan—and I have a lot of respect for you—I'm not sure how it's any of your business," Chloe says.
Ryan chuckles. "You've been working here how long?"
"Three weeks," she says.
"You really think anything stays secret here?" he asks.
She laughs. "No. But… Um… you're not going to try to fire me or something?"
"No." His brow screws. "But… Not sure it's cool for you to stay Dean's apprentice."
"We'll work it out. Draw strict lines. Compartmentalize. Promise." Vulnerability fills her eyes. She can't lose this job. She'll die if she loses this job.
Ryan shoots me a concerned look. "Can you do that?"
"Yeah. No problem." Huge problem.
But I will figure it out.
Somehow.
Ryan stays at the counter, coffee in his hand, eyes on us, until his client arrives. He shoots me a don't fuck this up look as he moves to his suite.
I should borrow some of his caution—there are way too many ways this could go up in flames—but I can't seem to find any. My heart is too full. My body is too warm. My soul…
Fuck, this cheesy shit isn't me.
Even if I can't bring myself to care at the moment.
I take Chloe's hand and lead her to the office. Nerves fill her eyes as she looks back to Ryan, but he's not paying attention to us. He's already enraptured in his work.
"You think he's serious about the whole we shouldn't work together thing?" She presses her back against the door, shutting it.
"It's Ryan."
"Right. He's always serious." She digs her index finger into the pad of her thumb.
"He's not gonna fire you. I promise." I bring my hands to her hips and pull her body into mine. "He can't."
"'Cause you're all co-owners?"
I nod.
Her brow softens. "We're not making the best case for keeping work and play separate."
"He isn't here."
"Still." She leans closer anyway. Rests her head on my chest. Digs her fingers into my sides, pressing the cotton fabric of my shirt into my skin.
Yeah. We're doing a shit job compartmentalizing.
I'm here for a reason.
She's just so fucking distracting.
Her fingers skim the edge of my t-shirt.
Then they're on my skin.
Fuck, her touch does shit to me.
I force myself to take a step backward. "You finish Han for me?"
"Oh." Disappointment flares in her eyes for a second. She blinks, and it fades to that fiery determination. "Yeah. In my backpack. Give me a second."
I do.
She's conspicuous about opening the door wide on her way out then leaving it open on her way in. It's smart leaving the door open, proving we have nothing to hide, but doing it this much is like screaming hey, we have nothing to hide. Calls attention to us being alone.
He was right. It's not a good idea for me to teach her if I can't draw that line.
I've got to draw that line.
Somehow.
She sets her backpack on the desk, pulls her sketchbook from it, and flips to the right page. Anticipation spreads over her expression as she shows off the design.
"Is it perfect?" Her voice perks.
"Yeah."
"Really?" She taps her toes together. "Are you sure?"
Positive. If I was the type to get a joke tattoo, this thing would be going on my arm today. I roll my shirt up my sleeve. "Do me one last time, sunshine."
Her lips curl into a half smile. "Only one? I'm not sure I can promise that." Her ass brushes my crotch as she moves past me, to the scanner. She's quick about scanning, printing, and cutting out the mock-up. She's a pro now. "Within a week, you'll be begging for more."
"Will I?"
"Yeah. I already worked up a Lando and a Chewbacca for you. So you have options."
"You did not."
"Did too." She wets a cotton swab with rubbing alcohol and drags it over my shoulder. Her fingers skim my skin as she holds up my shirt. "C3-PO too."
"R2-D2?"
"And Luke. That one is probably the best. In my opinion."
"'Cause he's holding his lightsaber like it's a massive dick?"
"Maybe." She presses the paper to my skin then dabs with a wet cotton swab.
"Maybe?" I raise a brow. "That's it."
"You're being greedy. One free design at a time."
My gaze shifts to her sketchbook. It's still sitting face down on the scanner. I can't marvel at the design. But I know it well enough. "I am. This is good shit."
"You really think so?"
"I do."
She drops the cotton swab and peels the paper off. Her eyes go wide with enthusiasm. Her jaw drops. Her fingers curl. Her toes tap together. "Does this ever get old?"
Yeah. But not with her sitting next to me. Not with her reminding me what I want. "Only if you let it."
"Have you?"
"Yeah. But I'm getting it back."
She looks up at me with a wide smile.
Fuck, her smile does shit to me.
I feel it everywhere.
Her fingers curl into my skin. She takes a step backward. "You need to see this in the mirror."
She's right. I do. But her voice isn't I'm excited about what you're teaching me. It's I never want to stop touching you.
Still, I follow her into the main room. All the way to my suite. To the mirror.
Soft light streams through the sheer shades. The room hums with the sound of Ryan's gun and the quiet grunts of his client. Neither one of them is talking. Of course.
My gaze shifts to the mirror. "That really is fucking perfect."
Chloe's eyes light up. "You sure?"
"Positive. You aced this." I turn toward her. Let my fingers brush her shoulder. "Bring me Lando tomorrow."
She nods.
"And work up something else."
"What else?"
I rack my brain for something that's just challenging enough. "An abstract design. For my forearm. Something geometric."
"Where?" She traces my bare forearm with her index finger, from my wrist to the crook of my elbow. "All that. Or less?"
"All that."
"I think I need a ruler."
I arch a brow.
"You're obsessed." She traces the length of my arm again. Carefully. Like she's committing it to memory. "You have a problem."
The door rings. Bouncy footsteps move into the room.
Walker.
"Hey." He greets Ryan then moves into my suite. "We're doing karaoke tonight." He stops dead in his tracks when he sees us. "Oh." It's written all over his face. You're already fucking her.
I nod yeah. "You're late to the party."
He nods to Ryan. Does he know?
"Chloe broke on the cross." I run my fingers through her hair.
She folds her arms. "That's not why he figured it out." Her cheeks flush. "Hey, Walker. You're early, aren't you?"
"My noon asked to come in early." He looks at us like he's assessing our potential. "You really like Dean?"
"Tragic, isn't it?" she teases.
"Yeah." He nods. "But the heart wants what it wants."
Chapter Thirty-One
Dean
Leighton jumps from her spot on the couch. She bounces to Chloe and throws her arms around her. "It's nice to see you again."
Chloe's eyes fill with surprise for a second. She blinks and it's repla
ced by friendly affection. "You too." She pulls back with a smile. "How is indie design treating you?"
"Good. Tiring." Leighton brushes a purple strand behind her ear. "Let's not talk about work." She looks back to Ryan, who's sitting on the bench next to Walker and Iris. "Let's not talk at all. Yeah?"
"Right here?" Ryan raises a brow.
"Yeah." She hikes her tight black dress, daring him. Fuck, she hikes it far.
His eyes fill with hunger
His tongue slides over his lips.
His—
Those are details I don't need.
Iris nods hello. "I'm not sure we've met." She stands and offers her hand. "I'm Iris."
Chloe nods. "I've heard a lot about you." She shoots Walker a knowing glance. "Your boyfriend is smitten."
"I'm pretty smitten." Curiosity fills her blue eyes as she looks to me. "It's weird, seeing Dean with someone."
"Oh." Chloe's cheeks flush. "Is that common knowledge now?"
Ryan nods. "News travels fast."
"And it's…" She pulls her arm over her chest. Curls her fingers around her tank top strap. "Is that cool?"
"Dean's in charge of teaching you. It's up to him how he wants to handle it." Ryan lifts his glass—filled with coke, not booze, since this place is alcohol free—to me. "To your ability to take responsibility."
Leighton climbs into Ryan's lap. Runs her fingers through his wavy hair. "Should we really toast to something that doesn't exist? That's bad luck."
"How could you say that, Leigh. I'm as responsible as they come." I press my palm into Chloe's back to lead her to the other bench. It's perpendicular to theirs, but it's opposite the TV. It's a nice spot.
Chloe's posture stiffens as she sits next to me. She looks at the four of them with nervous eyes.
Can't blame her.
They're staring like she's an exhibit at the zoo.
I'm not that much of a commitment phobic manwhore.
No… I am.
But they could be cool about it.
"You guys know you're not gonna see more unless you ask." I nod to my crotch. "I'm always ready for a show."
Leighton rolls her eyes.
Iris laughs. "You're not as bad as I thought at first, Dean."
Walker chuckles. "Sweetness, that was not a good compliment."
"He knows what I mean." She wraps her arms around her boyfriend's shoulder. Rests her head on his chest. "You're actually kind of sweet. Protective." She looks to Chloe. "He's a good guy."
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