She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up at him. He had no idea what she was thinking as she lifted her lips and kissed him. Not a chaste, friendly kiss, either. No, far from it.
Was her response to his words or from her visceral sense of desperation, of survival? She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. Her breasts pressed close against his chest as she trembled in his arms. Crap. Dean didn’t know what to do, what to say, but it turned out that Amy guided his next move.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close, then tugged him back onto the bed. He wasn’t sure what she wanted and didn’t want to misinterpret, so he allowed himself to be pulled down alongside her. They ended up in a spooning position on the bed, her body in front of his, his left arm wrapped around her waist, his right arm nestled between the bottom of her chin and her right shoulder. She moved his hand to where it was cupping her breast. Dean bit back a curse. He was determined not to take advantage of her, to let her lead all the way. But if this is what she wanted, what she needed to feel safe again, then he’d hold her all day.
His dick came to life and he shifted so she wouldn’t feel it. This was not the time to get horny. He shifted again, sure that she’d feel it against her back, but Amy didn’t move. Her hands covered his own. He couldn’t imagine what kind of thoughts were floating through her mind, but if she gained some comfort, even a modicum of security lying like this, then he would grant it to her.
She pressed her ass more closely against him, grinding back against his body. Dean froze. Was she just moving to a more comfortable position, or something else? She did it again, as if instinctively seeking his warmth. Inviting him to snuggle closer. He did, pressing her torso more firmly against his own, resting his head beside hers on the pillow, his cheek resting against her ear.
He couldn’t stop himself. He kissed her cheek softly; that soft spot right in front of her ear at the base of her jaw. Rather than leaping from his arms, Amy snuggled closer and offered a low moan. She inhaled sharply and pressed her ass once again deep against his groin and hips. Dean bit back a groan, sucking lightly on her ear lobe. Her grip on his hands tightened.
Suddenly, she pulled away. He dropped his arms away, letting her go immediately. Whoa. This was going somewhere, and fast. He needed to slow down. He was not about to rush her into something she would regret. No. Anything they did from this point forward—anything—would be on her terms. She would have to be the one to initiate.
He was good with that.
She seemed relieved, settling back down on the bed, a little further away from him this time. Dean pulled himself into a sitting position and ran a hand through his hair. He’d stay here and just watch her until she fell asleep. Nothing more.
13
Amy
She sat bolt upright in bed, her heart pounding frantically. No!
Calm down! The words reverberated in her brain. You’re not in a steel container . . . you’re in Dean’s house. You’re safe—
“Amy? You okay in there?”
Before she could form a reply, Dean stepped inside the room.
“Yes, I . . . I had a nightmare . . .” She lifted a hand to her chest and grimaced. The light in the hallway cast shadows in her room. His bulk filled the doorway as he walked in. She plucked at her T-shirt, soaked with sweat, afraid that he would see her nipples emphasized by the damp shirt that clung to her like a second skin.
He sat on the edge of her bed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You screamed.”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her cheeks flaming hot with embarrassment, the new emotion replacing her lingering fear.
“Don’t be.” He squeezed her arm gently.
The room was swathed in semidarkness. Emotions tumbled through her, making her sway. Everything was jumbled together. Past with present. Fear versus security. Her head pounded, not only with the lingering effects of the nightmare, but also with her warring feelings. She wanted Dean, in the deepest way a woman could. At the same time, she was afraid to let those emotions out. They had nearly done her in the first time.
“Can I take a shower?”
He nodded. “Sure.”
She rose from the bed and walked into the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her.
What the hell were you thinking?
She shouldn’t feel this way about him. She hadn’t been with a guy since . . . no, don’t go there!
She needed to put some distance between them. Her sexual attraction to him had practically overwhelmed her. Until she’d freaked out like a total moron. She recalled their earlier contact; his scent, the feel of his lips on hers . . . the desire to feel his warm hands cupping her breasts . . .
She quickly undressed and turned on the shower. She tested the temperature with her hand. Warm enough. Get under the water! Get rid of the tingling sensations in her pussy and in her breasts. Amy ducked under the stream of water, head bowed, allowing the warm water to soothe her tension and calm her.
She’d never felt this heat, this desire. Not with . . . not with anyone! She barely knew Dean, but she wanted him. She couldn’t understand it. Sure, he was good-looking, but more than that, he was nice. Not nerdy nice, but a good guy. He was a firefighter, for God’s sake. Strong and muscular. He saved lives for a living. How could she not be attracted to someone like that?
She soaped herself up and quickly rinsed, then turned around, allowing the water to pound against her back. She stood there, unmoving, for several minutes, and then leaned over to turn off the water. He had probably gone back to bed already. Was that disappointment that she felt or relief?
She stepped out of the shower and reached for a bath towel. Wrapping it around her, she tucked it in at the front and then stooped down to pick up her sodden T-shirt and shorts. She hoped Meg had packed a spare T-shirt she could sleep in. She could make do without the shorts. Amy pushed open the door, hair dripping droplets of water onto her shoulders, giving her the chills—
She froze, eyes wide with amazement. Dean had stripped the nightmare-sweaty sheets off the bed. They lay in a pile near the foot of the double bed. He was busy smoothing out the fresh bottom sheet, the top sheet and pillowcases folded neatly on the chair, resting on top of her backpack.
He straightened when she emerged from the bathroom and turned to her.
“That was quick,” he commented, and then gestured toward the bed. “Thought you’d be more comfortable in clean sheets.”
That did it. Tears filled her eyes. Why was he so damn nice to her? What she did next surprised even her, but she couldn’t stop. Every cell in her body yearned for him. Desire surged. She needed to feel him, to press her naked body against his, to feel his strong arms around her . . . she reached for the front of the towel and untucked it. He would only see her front side, nothing else.
He stood frozen for several seconds, just staring at her, taking her in. Was he going to reject her? But then he peeled off his own T-shirt. In the glow from the hallway light, she stared at his well-formed pecs, the six-pack abs, the heavily veined muscles of his arms. Every slight movement caused those muscles to twitch. Her heart pounded. She swallowed as he unbuttoned his pants then unzipped them. He wasn’t wearing any underwear. As he slid them down and stepped out of his pants, she saw his cock, swollen and engorged with desire. She tried not to stare, really she did, but he was gorgeous. Every inch of him.
He stood there, naked as she, not moving toward her. Giving her a chance to change her mind? She stepped toward the bed and he swept her into his arms, skin against skin. She felt his cock throbbing against her hip. Felt and heard the rumble that emerged from the depth of his chest.
Their lips met and his tongue stroked the edges of her bottom lip, urging her mouth open. She opened her mouth and then his tongue was there, tangling with hers. A trickle of water from her dripping hair snaked down between her breasts.
She grew more daring. Without breaking off the kiss, she stroked her hands down his back, sweeping over
the mounds of his tight, firm ass. His muscles clenched beneath her fingers. She smiled, knowing that she evoked such sensations in him as he did in her.
She felt his hand grope her breast, squeeze gently, then stroke, his palm swirling over her hard nipple. His fingers tweaked the nipple, sending a shiver of desire shooting down her spine and into her pussy. Her internal muscles clenched as if with desire all their own.
Her breath came in short gasps, her chest rising and falling against his. His body was rock hard, glistening with water transferred from her still-wet skin. She trailed her fingers over his ass and gripped him at the back of his thighs, pressing her body closer to his. He broke off the caress and a surge of disappointment ran through her, until his lips touched her skin again, trailing down her neck, nuzzling against her collarbone. He bent down and took one of her nipples into his mouth. Automatically, she arched her chest upward and threw her head back, reveling in the sensations coursing through her body. He suckled as her hand left his ass, teased along the front of his thigh, and then reached between to cup his heavy balls in her hand.
The groan that erupted from deep within his chest vibrated through her nipple. She shivered, but not from cold. As she kneaded his balls in her hand, she felt his dick throb and bounce gently against her thigh with a life all its own. She released her grip on his ass and wrapped her fingers around his engorged cock, amazed at how strong and powerful it felt beneath the tight grip of her fingers.
The skin was slippery and velvety-smooth on top, but incredibly hard beneath. Its surface threaded with veins pulsating with blood, the head engorged with desire. As she stroked his dick and massaged his balls, his hand left her breast and ventured down along the front of her abdomen until his palm cupped her mound. His fingers ventured further, exploring and separating her lower lips.
She burned with desire. Her hand continued to stroke his cock, her thumb gently stroking his head. Both of them breathed heavily, both in the throes of intense desire. One of his fingers slid in between her lower lips and inside her, and her pussy immediately tightened around it. She widened her legs to give him more room and suddenly his mouth and tongue were everywhere. Her shoulder, stroking her collarbone, tracing up alongside the edge of her neck and then sucking on her ear lobe. With every twirl of his tongue, his finger plunged slowly in and out of her body. Slowly, lethargically, his thumb gently circled her nub.
Her hips began to move of their own accord. With his finger deep inside her, he crooked it gently. A groan of pleasure fell from her lips.
His mouth found hers again and their tongues tangled together. His fingers stroked in a languorous, sensual rhythm. She matched the movement, her hand pumping his cock at the same pace his finger stoked her fire. She reveled in the moment, the sensations, the incredible and insurmountable desire building inside her. Her mouth pressed against his, she grew emboldened and took the lead, tempting his tongue with her own. Her hips moved in a gentle rhythm as her hands performed their ministrations along his shaft. Her nipples were taut and hard as they grazed against his chest. His nipples hardened into tiny little pebbles and his light smattering of chest hair felt crisp against her skin. She felt every clench of his muscles, heard every wordless groan rumbling in his chest.
The sensations built. His finger deep inside, his palm massaging her clit, the rhythm driving her to heightened plateaus. Her grip on his cock tightened and she began to pump harder, faster. Beneath her other hand, his balls seemed to grow heavier, and then draw upward. She felt the muscles in his groin tightening.
She felt her pleasure building, couldn’t stop her hips from rocking now, encouraging the pressure of his palm against her pussy, on fire now, wanting more, faster, and deeper.
Suddenly, he stopped. Her heart pounded hard, her legs weak. The thrum of her desire built, seeking release. But not yet. He slowly removed his finger from inside her pussy and in silent agreement, she unwrapped her hand from his dick and away from his balls. She wanted to keep going, to feel herself pulse with whatever feeling was building inside her, to stay close to him, skin on skin. This escape from reality. But did he—
He abruptly lifted her into his arms and settled her gently on top of the sheet. It smelled like a warm summer day.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he said before turning around and heading into the bathroom.
She heard the sound of the medicine cabinet opening and closing. He returned to the bed, staring down at her, his skin still glistening with water droplets, his broad shoulders nearly blocking her view of the doorway. She passed her gaze over him, amazed that she wasn’t embarrassed to be caught looking her fill. She couldn’t help it.
Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs. His erection still obvious. Under her gaze, it grew again, twitching against his lower abdomen. He looked at her, his gaze questioning. She answered by reaching her arms out, inviting him to join her on the bed. She saw him place something on the bedside table as he did. A condom.
Her slight hesitation was immediately demolished as he snuggled beside her, his gaze skimming down her body. As he had let her look her fill, she also did the same, but she turned slightly onto her right side, afraid that he would see.
Incredibly, the feel of his hand once again cupping around her breast caused her to shiver with desire. Her body was pulsing with need, the pause only intensifying it. She reveled in the feelings he evoked in her body. Every touch, every glance, every brush of his lips against her wet skin took her further away from her fear.
She had missed out on so much over the past months, had allowed anxiety and fear to rule her life. But here, in Dean’s bedroom, in his bed, she felt free. No worries, no fear, no anxiety. Most importantly, no need for words.
In a matter of seconds, her body was aglow with embers of want and anticipation. His hands worked magic against her skin, from what they did to her breasts to the way his large, calloused palm slid down along her waist, stroking her legs. And then he was hovering over her, kissing her again, his weight balanced on his elbows. She opened her legs, allowing him to nestle inside. Balancing his weight on one forearm, he reached for the bedside table and glanced down at her again as he showed her the packet.
She took it and tore it open. Wanting this. Needing it. She had to feel him inside her. She wanted to feel him so deep inside, to have him carry her away to another place, if only for a little while. She reached for his cock, which was fully engorged again. She held his shaft with one hand and placed the rolled condom over his head with the other. His cock jerked again. She smiled and slowly began to unroll the condom down the length of his dick.
Dean moved, holding himself over her, then lowered his lips to hers and began to suck gently on her lips. She bent her knees, spread her legs wide, and placed her hands on his ass, urging him on. His gaze met hers. “Amy? You’re sure?”
She nodded, staring into his eyes. They burned with the same heat building endlessly inside her. She’d never wanted anything more in her life. “Yes. Make love to me, Dean.”
Without hesitation, he pushed his hips forward, thrusting inside her. She hissed and accepted him, pulled him in deeper. His lips dropped onto her neck, his tongue tracing the vein now throbbing with her heated pulse. He remained still for several moments, allowing her to adjust to his size. God, she’d had no idea it could feel like this. So damn good. Her hips automatically surged upward to take him deeper and he began to move. Slowly at first, but, as before, the sensations overwhelmed both of them. Soon, he thrust into her, his rhythm faster but still gentle. Long, languorous strokes. Her hips rose, matching his rhythm. As she tilted her pelvis upward, pulling him deeper, she felt herself disappear into another vortex of pleasure.
In seconds, he accelerated, pumping into her ever faster, his strokes growing shorter and harder. Her pussy clenched around his cock, encouraging him. Flashes of white light hovered around the edges of her consciousness. She thrust her back off the bed, arching her head back, inviting his kiss, his suckling of her breasts as wave afte
r wave of pleasure contracted in her core and then spread outward. Dean groaned loudly, freezing at the top of one long, hard stroke, and then pumping into her hard as he pulsed inside her.
14
Dean
They lay naked on top of the bed, both their bodies glistening with sweat. He was surprised by the fierceness, almost a sense of desperation in Amy’s passionate lovemaking. And that’s what he felt. They had made love. It wasn’t just sex. Not sex just for the sake of getting his rocks off. No, this had made a connection with her on an intense, heart-deep level.
“We shouldn’t have done that.”
Her comment startled him. They were still naked, one of his hands resting against her hip as they spooned, his dick hardening again just from having her in his arms. Dean lifted himself up on his elbow. His other hand left her hip to tuck damp strands of hair lying against her cheek back behind her ear. “Why not?”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She rolled over onto her back, her breasts fully exposed. He couldn’t help but glance down at them, her areolas still flushed with passion, her nipples soft until she noticed his gaze. They hardened instantly. He forced his gaze back up to her face. “Tell me, Amy. I think we’ve gotten past the point of not sharing, don’t you?”
She slowly rolled over until she faced him, her breasts once again pressed against his chest. He wasn’t sure what she was doing, but he didn’t interfere, didn’t grab her, even though in a matter of minutes he would be ready for round two. She gently grasped his left hand and then placed it on her right hip. Inviting his touch, his caresses. He began to move his hand over her soft skin when his fingers felt something odd. Raised. A blemish? A scar? He frowned. With her watching every move, he lifted himself higher so he could see what was underneath his fingers.
Burning the Past (Southern Heat Book 3) Page 8