When Light Leads to You

by C. R. Ellis

  He gripped my hips and pulled me to the edge of the counter, lining himself up at my entrance.

  “Wait!” I yelped at the last second.

  He froze, eyes springing to mine and chest heaving rapidly.

  “This is just sex. It doesn’t change anything between us,” I quickly explained. “It can’t. Okay?”

  He hesitated, but the look in his eyes vanished before I could read into it. “I’m not asking for your heart, Jasmine. Just your body.”

  I nodded, satisfied we were on the same page for once.

  With that, he slammed into me. No easing in slowly, no more foreplay, no more anything. It was just us, unrestrained. For a second, I was too overwhelmed to meet his movements. I thought I’d come just from the onslaught of sensations sweeping through me all at once.

  “Jas?” he asked, halting his thrusts and squeezing my hip.

  “No, don’t. Don’t stop, Dean,” I begged, snapping out of my Dean-sex-hypnosis. I threw my arms up, grabbed his face, and pulled him back to me, stretching to reach his mouth.

  “Say it again,” he demanded against my lips.

  “Dean,” I moaned.

  If it hadn’t just happened, I would’ve sworn it was impossible for three simple words to get me more turned on than I already was.

  We quickly found a rhythm, and it wasn’t long before I felt the first tingle of an orgasm trying to find its way to the surface. In an effort to chase it, I rocked my hips into his with matching intensity. Between the pace we’d set and the obscenely filthy words Dean spoke, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I found my release. The closer my orgasm, the harder I dug my nails into Dean’s back. In turn, he sucked, bit, squeezed, devoured my breasts, and I knew without looking he’d leave evidence of this night on my body, not just in my heart.

  I tugged the ends of his hair and pulled away just enough to get his attention. “God, I’m so close. Come with me.”

  He groaned and immediately dropped a hand between us, wasting no time in finding the sweet spot and running his thumb over it. “Let me hear you,” he demanded. “I want this building to know who owns your orgasms now, Jas.”

  There was an odd permanency within his statement, but before I could dissect it, I was digging my nails into his skin and screaming his name as my orgasm ripped through me.

  My unravelling spurred his movements. His eyes rolled back as his hands held me in place while his thrusts turned brutal, almost punishing. But I wasn’t complaining.

  With Dean, I craved the rough.

  “That was so fucking hot, Jasmine,” he growled against my fallen hair. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,” he hissed on his last thrust.

  For a second, neither of us made an effort to move.

  When he did pull out, I felt his absence as if he’d actually taken a part of me with him. It was a strange feeling, and I had no clue what to do with it.

  He pulled off the condom and moved toward the trash can.

  I slid off the counter, suddenly very aware of my nakedness. I folded my arms across my chest and brought one hand up to trace the seam of my lips, relishing the slight burn that lingered.

  “That was, um…” I trailed off, searching for a word accurate enough to describe what had just happened. I glanced up in time to watch his full smile spread.

  I halfway expected him to find a word for me, but he just stood there, looking at me with a grin the size of Texas on his lips.

  Figures.

  I shook my head and tried not to squirm. “Just…wow.”

  “Wow,” he echoed. “I’ve rendered Jasmine Winters speechless. Never thought I’d see the day.”

  I cut my eyes up to his so he’d see my glare. “Shut up.”

  He just laughed and ran a hair through his sexed-up-and-semi-sweaty hair.

  Before he spoke, I’d had the urge to thank him for blowing my ever-loving mind. Thank God his stupid mouth ruined that possibility. Instead, I dropped my gaze and looked around for my clothes.

  He realized my intention and caught my arm before I could reach down and pick up my panties.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “What does it look like? I’m getting dressed, genius,” I shot back.

  “Why bother? We’re not finished, Goldie. Not even close.”

  “Uh. What does that mean?”

  His brow cocked as he leaned down to trace his thumb along my bottom lip. “It means we’re going to use every surface of this apartment as our fucktop. Like a countertop, but for fucking.”

  My mouth fell open.

  He waved a hand in front of my stunned face. “You still with me?”

  I blinked a few times, willing away the shock. “Uh…”

  For some reason, I’d expected this to be a one-and-done deal. I figured he’d duck out, I’d go to bed, and tomorrow we’d resume ignoring each other now that we’d released our pent up sexual frustration.

  But as far as I could tell, he wasn’t going anywhere. I wasn’t remotely sleepy.

  The damage was already done—it wasn’t like more sex would ruin our…whatever the hell this was. Before I could overanalyze things, I dropped my arms, biting my lip and meeting Dean’s penetrating gaze.

  “Okay,” I finally answered.

  He grinned, gripping my ass and pulling me into his body. “Good girl.”

  Dean was not at all exaggerating when he said every surface.

  He finger-fucked me on the table formerly used for eating meals.

  I sucked him off with his ass pressed against my balcony door.

  He ate me out on the rug I’d stolen from Jade.

  Before I could get any more ideas about giving him head again, he bent me over the couch and fucked me from behind.

  By the time we finally stumbled into my bedroom, I had no idea what time it was. The sun hadn’t come up yet, but I had a feeling my alarm was dangerously close to going off, so I didn’t bother checking the time. I was too satisfied, too spent to argue when Dean crawled into bed with me and rolled over, apparently content to share my queen-sized mattress.

  I realized, just before nodding off, that my bed was the one surface we hadn’t christened. That’s probably for the best. I needed at least one place in my apartment that I could look at without thinking about how thoroughly Dean Preston had owned my body.

  Chapter 15

  Jasmine

  I may not know exactly what love feels like, but lust is an old friend I’ve known since the day I met Dean Preston.

  Twenty-year-old Jasmine Winters, realizing time can’t change the effect Dean has on her

  “Jesus, what are you, part ogre? You’re going to suffocate me with these tree trunks,” I grumbled, shoving against Dean’s arms.

  They didn’t budge.

  “Dean. You cannot still be asleep. Get up.” Using what little mobility my right arm had, I reached out to turn off the third round of snoozed alarms.

  With finesse that should’ve been impossible for a man of his stature, he rolled over until he was completely on top of me, pinning my body to the mattress. “Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine in the morning.”

  “Y’know, I think the arms would’ve sufficed if you really wanted to suffocate me. Your entire body isn’t necessary,” I huffed dramatically.

  “Funny.” He smirked, and I had to bite my lip so I wouldn’t bite his lip. “I think we need an encore of last night.”

  Encore. More sex. More wild, uninhibited, occasionally rough sex. With Dean.

  “Rain ch—uh, sorry, no can do. I’m really late for a meeting, so you’re gonna have to make it a DIY morning back at your place,” I said, scrambling out from under him. I wrapped the sheet around my body and bolted for the bathroom.

  Panic flooded every muscle and seized control of my brain. Last night, giving in to what we’d both wanted seemed like the best way to get Dean out of my system. I told myself one night was all we needed. I told myself it didn’t matter how hot the sex was, because that’s all it was—sex. I
told myself last night changed nothing.

  So, why did a tiny, annoying part of me feel like everything was different now?

  I took the world’s fastest shower, partly because I really was running late, but also because I knew I’d spend the whole time thinking and overanalyzing the entire situation. And that would accomplish nothing. I half-assed a little makeup to disguise my zombie sexaholic look and threw on the first clean dress I found in my closet.

  When I emerged from the bathroom, Dean was propped up against my headboard, fingers interlaced behind his head, looking completely comfortable and in no rush to get up.

  I moved to my dresser to pick out today’s jewelry, stealing glances of Dean through my mirror. I turned around and leaned against my dresser, hooking my necklace and inserting my earrings while allowing myself a few seconds to admire just how devastatingly gorgeous he looked. Good Lord, mornings are kind to him.

  “What was that?” he asked, brow arching in question at my mumbled words.

  “Just wondering how it’s possible for you to look like that after last night, while I’m over here looking like I’m about to audition as an extra for The Walking Dead. What are you still doing here, anyway? Don’t you need to go to work?” I asked.

  He pushed off the headboard and wrapped a blanket around his waist. “I have a flight in a few hours, so I don’t need to go into the office today.”

  Flight? Where was he going? For how long? Why?

  “Oh,” I said with a nod. Before one of the questions swirling in my brain could escape, I turned and walked into my living room.

  In addition to being all over my body, traces of last night were all over my apartment as well. The quilt that usually adorned the foot of my bed was a twisted mess in the doorway. My heels were on the coffee table. The floor lamp next to my couch was tilted, inches from crashing to the ground. Cookware, sprinkles, chocolate chips, pecans, and flour littered my kitchen floor. Our clothes were scattered about and long forgotten, victims of ruthlessly impatient hands. Somewhere among the wreckage remnants of the Jasmine Winters I’d been up until last night were sure to be found. Confident. In control. Fiercely independent. Free of chinks in my emotional armor. Perfectly lonely. Or was it just lonely?

  I carefully stepped around the mess and headed for the coffee maker.

  “I’m going to New York. Just through the weekend,” he explained, following behind and pulling on articles of clothing as he found them.

  “Oh,” I said again. “I didn’t realize you travel for work.”

  Dean hesitated long enough for me to stop messing with the coffee maker and look up. “I don’t usually. I’m, uh, actually going for Nate. Natasha said he’s been staying out late and skipping school.”

  Hearing Dean say his ex-girlfriend’s name, and that he was going to see her, less than an hour after waking up next to him sent my brain into panic mode all over again. Only this time, it chanted things like, “I’d never actually want anything serious with her,” and, “last night was a mistake, and we didn’t even sleep together.”

  Mistake.

  I stood frozen, unable to force a single word out of my mouth.

  The words Dean assured me he never meant were the very ones my brain clung to.

  Dean must’ve sensed my panic because he continued when I didn’t reply. “I’m going for Nate, Jasmine. Things with Nata—”

  “Dean, you don’t have to explain,” I insisted, holding up my hands and shaking my head. “Really.”

  “Right,” he said with a curt nod. “Because last night didn’t change anything between us.”

  I was on the verge of responding with a confirmation when my phone buzzed.

  JADE:FYI - I rescheduled your 9 a.m. consultation.

  JADE:Where are you? If you’re getting breakfast tacos without me I SWEAR TO GOD, I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN. Unless you’re bringing me some. Then we’d be good. Kthanksloveyoubyeeeee.

  Shit.

  I groaned and slid the phone across the island to Dean.

  He looked down and read it, then looked up and smirked. “You could always tell her the truth.”

  “Or I could tell her I spent the night with an Arabian prince named Aladdin,” I countered, turning for the door and ushering him out of my apartment. “Just as believable as telling her that I was shacked up with her brother, having steamy hate sex all night.”

  I was so focused on getting us out the door that my words came out in a sharp, annoyed tone.

  “Steamy hate sex, huh?” he asked, contemplating the phrase.

  I shrugged, aiming for a look of indifference. “Got a better description?”

  His fingers traced his unshaved jawline. Suddenly his eyes clouded over with an intensity I couldn’t ignore. “Is that what we are, Jas? Two people who had phenomenal sex but still hate each other? After everything?”

  “What? No,” I stammered, totally flustered by his question. “I didn’t mean…I don’t hate you. I just…I’m late and I can’t wrap my head around everything right now.”

  He walked across the hall, turned back, and left me standing there with three simple words: “Can’t or won’t?”

  Unfortunately for me, I did not find a cloak of invisibility before getting to work. Luckily, Jade was out to meet a client by the time I got to the office.

  Our assistant, Elliot, was there, however, and was every bit as perceptive as Jade would’ve been. I’d done my best to stealthily walk in and slip into my office unnoticed, but I felt her gaze follow me until I was behind my door.

  “Knock knock,” she called, poking her head in a few minutes later.

  “What’s up, El?” I asked casually.

  “I come bearing gifts.” She beamed, setting down a steaming mug of coffee. I tentatively took the mug and met her questioning gaze, waiting for her inevitable inquisition.

  “So, who’s the guy?”

  “Who says there’s a guy?” I asked, arching a brow and doing my best to look surprised.

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe your messy, I-didn’t-have-time-to-bother-with-it bun. Or your mismatched flats. You usually only wear flats when you’re in a hurry.”

  I looked down to find I was, in fact, wearing one black flat and one red one. Fucking Dean and his stupid morning perfection. I let out a slew of curses under my breath and made a mental note to leave spare shoes in my car.

  Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened with realization. “Ohmygod. It’s Dean isn’t it?”

  “Shhh,” I shot back, leaning across my desk to make sure Jade was still gone. “Jesus, Elliot, why don’t you broadcast it to the offices next door? I don’t think they heard you.”

  Elliot sat across from my desk, grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat, while I desperately tried to figure out how to handle Jade. If the truth was so obvious to Elliot, Jade would put the pieces together before I even opened my mouth to tell her. I wanted to smack Dean for being able to hop on a plane and avoid her.

  Telling Jade would make last night too real. She’d ask questions I wasn’t remotely ready to answer, and she’d inevitably read into last night’s events more than she should.

  “I have so many questions! Are you going to tell Jade? How was it? I mean, I’m sure it was hotter than a fireworks show on the Fourth of July, but give me the juicy details,” she demanded.

  I sighed in resignation. “You know, there are a lot of things I like about you, El. Like your sense of humor, your passion for FMK, your sweet heart, your killer fashion sense, and your willingness to share your wardrobe with me. All of the above aside, gotta say, I’m not loving this eerily perceptive side of you. I haven’t told Jade yet, so do me a favor and keep this between us until I figure out how the hell to tell her.”

  Elliot smiled sweetly. “Of course, Jas. But you gotta at least give me something. How was it?”

  I opened my mouth to divulge the details of everything that happened last night, but nothing came out. I’d always been a shamelessly open book when it came to my sex life. So wh
y am I not dishing about Dean?

  “It was…hot. Definitely hot,” I said with a shrug.

  Elliot eyed me curiously, like she somehow knew something I didn’t.

  If I were honest with her—hell, honest with myself—I’d have told her that it was so much more than anything I could’ve predicted. I’d have told her that one night with Dean wasn’t even close to being enough. I’d have told her I was treacherously close to reverting right back to the Jasmine Winters who had fallen under Dean’s spell a long time ago.

  But I wasn’t ready to open Pandora’s box of emotions.

  “Oh…kay.” She paused, eyeing me carefully. “But you are going to tell Jade?”

  I nodded.

  “Then let’s go to happy hour after work and you can tell her then. It’s been a while since the three of us had an impromptu girls’ night. Clearly, this is a conversation best had over margaritas. Don’t even think about wiggling your way out of this one. I’m texting Jade right now,” she said, pulling out her phone and effectively backing me into a corner.

  Hours later, El and I settled into our favorite booth at Rae of Light. After I was sufficiently liquored up, Elliot brought up the subject I’d spent my afternoon avoiding. “So, when are you seeing Dean again? Are y’all friends with benefits now? Dating?”

  “No. I don’t know. We’re definitely not dating, and I don’t even know if I’d call us friends. I have no idea when I’ll see him again. I sort of, uh, shoved him out the door and reiterated that last night changed nothing between us.”

  Elliot just stared, brows raised and mouth open, while I tried to convince myself there was nothing wrong with my actions of this morning. When that didn’t work, I reached for my drink and quickly downed the rest of it.

  “Don’t look at me like that, El. I can’t just fling myself at Dean and expect things to have a perfect, storybook ending. I don’t even want a storybook ending with a guy. I mean, there’s a reason you only see the words happily ever after in works of fiction. Plus, who wants to be restricted to one dick for the rest of their life? Not me.”