by Rion, Paige
Maybe this isn’t the most convenient opportunity for their first kiss, but he doesn’t have a second to lose, especially not with Maya complicating things.
“You ready for this?” Dean asks once Jinny disappears inside.
Callie turns to him. Her eyes sparkle with nerves in the low light. “I think so. We can do this, right?”
“Sure.”
“And you’re still onboard? With going along with this, for their sake?”
He licks his lips. “Of course.” It’s time. Do it! “I’ve been thinking, though…” His heart beats faster and the snakes in his gut writhe harder with excitement until he feels as though they may find a way out. “If we’re going to keep pretending… If we want to make Maya jealous, and if we want people to believe we’re really a couple, we have to be one hundred percent convincing. Right? One hundred percent comfortable with each other.”
“Right. Yes, of course,” she says, shifting in her seat.
“And so we can’t have what happened at the basketball game happen again. Can we?” Maybe it’s a low blow. He knows how awful she felt about blowing the kiss, but it’s the best tool he has in his arsenal.
Her gaze flickers nervously over his face before she answers, her voice tentative. “No. I suppose not.”
“I think the best way to get to Maya is for us to kiss in front of her. She needs to see more than cuddling and holding hands.”
“Oh.” He watches as Callie inhales, her gaze leaving his for a moment as she seems to digest this information.
Now. Before she can overthink it!
“I want to kiss you. Right now. Before we’re in front of her, so it’s natural.”
“You do? Now?”
He hears the way her voice catches on the words and it nearly tears him apart.
Would it be so bad? Am I that unappealing?
He lets the thought fuel him. He can feel the fire in his chest. The heat pulsing with the beat of his heart, solidifying his resolve. He’s going to show her. He’s going to blow her away and prove how incredible they can be together.
His gaze flickers to her lips. They’re painted a dark pink and they look so soft. “Definitely. We should. Think of it as practice, a dress rehearsal of sorts.”
“Okay. Maybe you’re right.” Callie nods. “It’s eventually going to come up. We’ll need to kiss, so…”
He leans forward and places his hand on the side of her face as a herd of buffalo invades his chest. Trying to quiet the beat of his heart, he asks, “So you agree? You want me to kiss you?”
Maybe it’s stupid, egotistical even, but he can’t help it. He wants to hear her in some way say she wants him to kiss her. He needs to hear it first.
She hesitates, her eyes darting to his mouth, and he would give anything to know what she’s really thinking right now.
“Yes. Go ahead. Kiss me.”
The words leave her mouth and that’s all he needs. He leans in, taking his time. He wants to remember this moment. Because in the name of a charade or not, this is their first kiss. It’s the moment he’s dreamt about for so many years and he knows it will mark itself inside his heart, alongside of the place where she’s resided for so long.
He strokes his thumb over her cheek, hovering his mouth just above hers. He can feel the soft hint of her breath against his skin in quick, short gasps. She closes her eyes and her face goes soft. He’s so close now, he can feel her, sense the anticipation in the quick pulse in her throat, her firmly closed eyes. This is what he wants—her stomach in knots like his has been for years.
He rubs his thumb along her jawline once more, then moves his hand to the back of her head where he cradles her at the base of her skull and swoops down to lightly brush his lips against hers. His scalp prickles with the charge of the contact and his stomach tumbles as he presses his lips against hers once again, this time longer. Then again.
He moves his mouth and she responds. Lifting his other hand, he trails it up her back into her hair to the nape of her neck, as he takes control and gently angles her head while parting her lips with his own. His body is hardwired. The tension within him builds like a coil, ready to spring at any moment. As he brushes his tongue against hers, the lightest of whispers, her body turns to liquid in his arms and she leans into him, kissing him harder.
She’s like a dream, her lips incredible—softer than he ever imagined, sweeter than he ever envisioned. All his mind is tangled, lost in the kiss, with only two coherent thoughts coming through: She hasn’t pulled away yet, and she’s kissing me back.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CALLIE
Holy. Crap.
She’s kissing Dean. And…oh my…
His mouth moves over hers, his hands in her hair, holding her, pressing her closer to him. He’s so sure of himself. In control.
A ball of fire ignites in her gut and her head spins. This kiss is about the sexiest thing she’s ever experienced, which makes no sense. This is Dean.
They’re parked in front of his parents’ house, ready to go inside, and then BAM! He drops this on her. She certainly never thought about kissing Dean before, but if she had, she never would’ve expected this.
Kissing him shouldn’t feel like this. This is Jinny’s little brother. Dean Michaels. Friend. Brother I never had.
This should be illegal.
Callie moves her arms, drawing him closer to her, pressing him into her chest and moaning.
I should totally stop this.
If only I were stronger…but I’m so weak.
He angles his head, grabbing her hair in his fist and brushing his tongue against hers again. She moves her hands down to his arms and squeezes his biceps, trying to steady herself, to bring herself down from the cloud she’s floating on, but the feel of his muscle tightening and coiling under her hands only makes her think about his chest and what it would feel like to run her hands…
Weak. Weak. Weak. Why am I so weak?
She gasps as he gently scrapes his teeth over her lower lip. In the back of her head she hears a knocking sound, and for a moment, she thinks it might be her sensibility jarring loose. But in the next breath, Dean’s kisses slow, and she can feel the slight shift in his embrace before he pecks her softly on the mouth one last time and pulls away. Eyes still closed, Callie starts to protest, then stops herself.
God, don’t beg for it. What in the H-E-double hockey sticks was that?
Trying to slow her breathing, she swallows and blinks her eyes open. He’s watching her with slate-blue eyes she could drown in. A thick fog envelops her thoughts and she finds it hard to think about anything but his mouth.
“You’re kissing!” A voice calls from behind them.
Callie jumps in Dean’s arms, a small yelp escaping her swollen lips.
“Oh, I never thought I’d see the day.”
The voice registers and Callie’s eyes shoot open to the size of meteors. Oh. My. God. No-no-no-no…
She swallows. “Is that?”
“Yeah. It’s my mother.”
Turns out it wasn’t her sensibility knocking.
The corner of his mouth turns up into a grin and he stares at her, the heat from his gaze unnerving. But the mortification setting in is far worse than the intensity emanating from his stare.
She feels her face burn, and knowing his mother is standing right behind her, just outside the window, takes her mind off the mind-boggling, toe-tingling kiss she just had. Still, she doesn’t have the strength to turn around. “She saw us—”
“Yep.”
Callie closes her eyes and listens as his mother calls out. “Come, you two. It’s freezing out here. You have plenty of time to make out later. Dinner’s waiting.”
OMG. Did Mrs. Michaels just say they had time later to make out?
Callie opens her eyes to see the grin on Dean’s face spread into a full-on smile.
Yes. Yes, she did.
She hears the subtle squeak of the Michaels’ front door opening, then closing. Wh
y couldn’t she hear that initially? Like, before Mrs. Michaels caught me sucking face with her son. Of course, if I hadn’t been so caught up...
The enclosure of the car grows quiet. It’s just the two of them again. The steady beat of her pulse is the only thing she can hear in the silence, and she wonders if Dean can hear it, too. Her nerves dance as she realizes that she’s still in his arms. He’s cradling her, in fact, and the memory of his hands tangling in her hair, kneading the back of her neck, and cupping her face, along with his velvet mouth don’t fit with the boy she’s known forever.
Is this really the same Dean I’ve known all my life? And how did I not notice this sexy side of him before?
She clears her throat and nods toward his arms. Releasing her, he leans back into his seat. “Sorry,” he says.
“Well…” She tries to think of something to say, something that will thin the air between them that seems to be growing thick by the second. “I guess she certainly believes we’re a couple now.”
Dean laughs, leans his head back, and rubs his face. “You should’ve seen her face. I don’t know whether to be completely creeped out to see my mom so excited about me making out in front of her or glad because she’s happy and buys our story.”
Callie grins and shakes her head. “We’re insane.”
That kiss was insane. Insanely hot!
“We might just be, but are you ready?” He nods toward the house. “We better go in before she comes back out here and yanks us from the car.”
Callie takes a deep breath, steeling the nerves doing jumping jacks in her chest. “Okay. Let’s go.” She steps out of the car and waits as Dean comes around to meet her. He grabs her hand and squeezes.
“Here goes nothing.”
#
Jinny smiles at them as they enter the dining room and raises her brows at Dean. “Hey, guys. Whatcha doin’?”
Callie widens her eyes and grits her teeth at her best friend. But she’s unstoppable. Tipping her head back, she laughs. “Man-oh-man, I can’t believe you let Mom catch you making out like that. You shoulda heard her, too. She came busting in here, saying how cute it was with you two pawing all over each other.” Jinny makes a gagging noise. “Talk about sick.” She laughs once more, then walks over to Callie as her mother enters the room with a giant bowl of salad in her hands.
“When did all that start?” she asks, her voice a whisper.
Callie shrugs, then awkwardly glances at Dean. He’s still holding her hand, looking completely at ease, pretending he can’t hear their conversation.
Her mother sets the salad on the table and swoops in between her and Jinny, saving her from answering the question.
Dean breaks off and lunges toward the table. “Food,” he says, grabbing a chunk of carrot from the salad. Mrs. Michaels swats at him, but he pops it into his mouth along with a cucumber before she can stop him. He chews, and for a minute Callie’s mesmerized. Her eyes linger on his mouth, his lips. The ones that just minutes ago were on hers...
Lips. Lips. Lips.
Fluttering her eyes shut for a moment, she shakes her head. Focus.
“It’s so good to see you, Mrs. Michaels.” Callie smiles at her Kiss the chef apron that she is wearing over her sweater. Her dark hair angles around her small face, accentuating her high cheekbones, and she opens her arms as she moves to embrace Callie.
Mrs. Michaels grabs her in a giant bear hug, squeezing Callie’s shoulders and enveloping her in the floral scent of her perfume. “I know it’s habit, but I can’t have you calling me that anymore, can I? Not if you’re dating my Dean. Please, start calling me Barb.”
She pulls away and holds Callie out at arm’s length. “I haven’t seen you in months. Little did I know it’s because my son’s been keeping you so busy,” she says, winking at Dean, who’s moved onto ravaging a platter of fresh rolls.
The blush creeps back up to Callie’s cheeks as Mrs. Michaels clucks her tongue. “Let me look at you. Stylish and gorgeous as always, just like your mother.”
The reminder of her mother leaves a familiar ache in her chest. She tries to smile, but can’t manage the pretense through her yearning.
“And look at that hair,” Mrs. Michaels coos. “Just beautiful. I was always so jealous of your mother’s fair skin and light hair. You’ve inherited all her best features.”
“Mom.” Dean steps in. “Let her breathe,” he says, and it takes all Callie’s energy not to wrap her arms around him again.
He glances at her with a knowing look, and it dawns on Callie just how much he gets her. He’s aware how the familiarity of this home, his mother, the anniversary of her parents’ death, all clash with her anxiety of this evening to form one giant, suffocating concoction.
Mrs. Michaels stares at them expectantly, her grin unsettling. Callie can feel the guilt of their lie rising in her chest like an injured dove. Dean wraps his arm tightly around her. The strength in his embrace, so strong and stable. She glances over at him and he smiles softly at her in understanding, making her wonder how he can know her so well. But he must. He must know that her emotions are rising to form a treacherous peak because he’s moving her toward the kitchen, pulling her along with him. “Want some wine?” he asks. Without waiting for an answer, he’s yelling behind him back into the dining room. “You want wine, Mom?”
“You know where it is. Pour Callie a glass,” she calls after him.
Dean stops once he reaches the brightly-lit kitchen and opens the cupboard housing the glasses, pulls out two wine glasses, and opens the mini wine fridge in the kitchen island to remove a bottle of wine.
Callie keeps quiet. She watches him as he retrieves a wine opener, expertly uncorks the bottle of Chardonnay, and pours them both a glass. He hands her one and takes his own, then tips it back and downs half of it before pouring himself more.
“You better not be drinking any of that.” His mom calls out from the dining room.
Callie raises a brow and chuckles. Maybe she’s not the only one feeling unhinged at the moment. Was it the kiss? Being here in his home, pretending we’re together? Hmmm… She’s not sure, but she wishes she knew.
“You okay?” she asks.
Dean takes another swig. “Great,” he says, but he can’t say anything further because his mother’s pushing her way into the kitchen again.
“Wine is exactly what we need to celebrate. Take that bottle and another one to the table. Your dad will be down in a minute. He’s just cleaning up, and he’ll want some, too.”
Dean does as he’s told and grabs the open bottle, along with another one, and nods Callie back toward the dining room. They take a seat at the huge mahogany table, scarred from years of homework and art projects.
His mother brings a pan of lasagna out and Mr. Michaels joins them. He’s dressed in a soft brown sweater and jeans, and his smile lights up the room. His easy demeanor helps put Callie at ease. He moves to her first, giving her a quick hug before turning to Jinny, then pats Dean on the shoulder.
Mr. Michaels leads the family in saying grace and Callie allows herself to relax in the familiarity of the routine of the Michaels household. As they begin to eat, Callie continuously peeks at Dean from under her lashes. She purposely avoids looking at his lips, wondering if he is thinking about the kiss—like she is—or if, for him, it was no big thing.
She watches him as he answers his father’s questions about school and the basketball team, looking at him with new eyes. He’s wearing a pale blue dress shirt with a pair of dark jeans. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, with the fabric straining over the shape of his biceps, revealing muscle that flickers subtly as he moves his hands. Swallowing, Callie focuses back on her meal.
“Soooo, Mom,” Jinny says. “What did you and Dad think about Dean’s romantic—” Jinny bats her eyes, exaggerating the word, “—stunt he pulled at his game the other night?”
Their mother puts her fork down and grabs her glass of wine. “It was awfully sweet. The article was such a
shock. Not really seeing that you’re together, but finding out like that…” She shakes her head, as if she can’t find the words. “You know, Callie, you’ve always been like family, since you were just young, and now… Well, it’s just all the more official. And you two seem…” she trails off.
Dean glances over at Callie. Her guilt is reflected in his eyes, and for a moment, she wonders if lying to his mother is the right choice.
“You seem so natural together. It’s amazing how well you fit. I always knew you would, and I always knew how much Dean—”
“Mom,” Dean’s head whips toward his mother. His voice is on edge, and when he speaks it’s louder than normal. “We know, Mom. We’re glad that you’re happy about it.”
Mrs. Michaels smiles. “Well, Rick made me promise not to prod, but now that you’re talking about it,” she says, glancing at her husband, “I have to ask. How did it start? On your part, Callie, how did you know you wanted to be with Dean? I know that he’s—”
“Mom, don’t you think asking that’s a little strange?” Jinny interrupts. “I mean, it’s kind of nauseating to hear the details.”
Mrs. Michaels’ face falls. “How is it nauseating? I’m not asking what he’s like in bed, I’m just asking how Callie knew she had feelings for him.”
“Mom!” Jinny gasps.
“Oh, my God,” Deans says, smacking his forehead, his face a deep crimson. “You did not just say that.”
Choking on a piece of bread, Callie reaches for her wine and takes a huge swig.
“There’s not enough wine on the planet for this conversation,” Jinny adds.
“Well, I’m not an idiot. You’re both away at school. Jinny and Callie, you both have your own apartment. I know what goes on,” Mrs. Michaels says, eyeing them and pushing her shoulders back.
Dean groans again, and Callie fights the urge to sink down in her chair and disappear. Although, she should be grateful. Mrs. Michaels is making it easy for them to look like a believable couple. Nevertheless, Callie needs to resurrect this conversation before it gets worse. And knowing Mrs. Michaels, she won’t stop till she gets what she wants: answers.