God, has anyone ever been more handsome than Dean Collins?
Or larger and broader and so fucking amazing that when he reaches me he casts a shadow over me, over my tiny body and shields me from the one thing I don’t really like, the glaring sun.
In fact, he makes it rain for me, those droplets from his body dripping over me.
We’re at the beach and I’m lying in my recliner, reading Harry Potter.
Dean and I, we have a rule.
Every month I put aside my aversion to the sun and we come out to the beach.
I very rarely go in the water though. It’s not that I can’t swim but I’m not such a fan of the water. So I sit here, with my straw hat and sunglasses on, pretending to read Harry Potter while I watch my handsome boyfriend swim in the blue ocean.
I put aside my book and prop myself up on my elbows. “Did you have a good swim?”
He keeps staring at me, at my bikini-clad body. Well, it’s more a white bikini top and a pair of jean shorts but still. A lot less than what I usually wear every day.
“It could’ve been better,” he murmurs, his gaze sliding down to my fluttering chest.
Taking my sunglasses off, I sit up because it’s getting hard to sit still and I have to move and do something with my body or I’ll catch fire or something.
“How?” I ask, looking up at him.
After making a thorough journey of my body while I’ve been digging my toes in the sand, he comes back to my eyes. “If you’d been there.”
I shrug sheepishly. “Well, you know I don’t go in the water.”
Smiling slightly, he nods. “I know. I’ve been trying to teach you to surf for a year now.”
Yeah, surfing.
I don’t think I’m made for that. It takes a lot of coordination and I’m not so good with that either. Although I did buy a very kickass red surfboard that’s lying next to my recliner. I even decorated it with all the Harry Potter insignia.
“I know. But I love my surfboard.” I smile up at him.
He watches my goofy smile with a little too much intensity and I’m trying to figure out what’s going through his mind.
But I only get maybe a second or two of pondering before he suddenly bends down, showering me with ocean droplets, and grabs my hand in a tight grip.
Then he yanks me up, toward him, and I go flying. I don’t even have time to squeal or to do much else before he maneuvers me and I’m sitting on his lap. I’m actually straddling him and my book is lying on the sand somewhere.
“Dean!” I say, outraged, looking at the crowd surrounding us.
No one is really paying attention though. They’re all in their own worlds.
He simply smirks. “It’s funny when you get mad.”
“You’re an animal,” I accuse, not that I really mind but still. He needs to know he can’t just put me wherever he wants. “Why do you always have to manhandle me?”
“Because you’re tiny,” he says, pulling off my straw hat.
“It’s not nice to keep bringing that up all the time,” I tell him, trying to hold on to my ire.
He’s making it difficult though.
Especially when he puts his splayed palms on my waist, all wet from the ocean, making me gasp and shift in his lap.
He grazes his wet lips against mine. “And because I can.”
“That doesn’t mean that you should,” I whisper, sliding my mouth over his in return, tasting the sea salt and his sharp flavor.
“And also because you’re mine.”
I don’t think anyone says ‘mine’ like Dean does.
He makes it so… layered.
In his mouth, ‘mine’ sounds protective and possessive and sexy and safe, all at the same time. So many nuances in a four-letter word that I have no choice but to melt and drip like the water clinging to his skin.
“I am,” I whisper, winding my arms around his shoulders and plastering my chest to his.
My nipples pucker up as soon as we make contact, my white bikini top soaking up all the water from his skin and turning almost translucent.
Or at least, I think it is.
Because I can’t look away from his gorgeous face.
“And because it wasn’t working for me,” he continues, flexing his grip on my small waist.
“What wasn’t working for you?”
“You, lying there looking sexy as fuck when I want to have a serious discussion.”
I shift in his lap when he calls me sexy and he clenches his jaw and stops me from moving around in his lap.
“Sorry,” I whisper when he gives me a look. “What serious discussion?”
His eyes go back and forth between mine and he murmurs, as if to himself, “I thought about doing this on my knees but let’s face it, I was down there just this morning. I would live down there if I could. On my knees. With my mouth on your pussy.”
I shift in his lap again, digging my nails into his scalp. I feel myself going all hot and trembling as I whisper, “Dean, what are you talking about?”
“About the fact that I was going to tell you this on my knees but as torturous as it feels right now,” he squeezes my waist again, “having you on my lap when I can’t do something about it, this is where you belong. On my lap. So this is where I’m going to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
At last, he focuses on me instead of looking like he’s talking to himself. His thumbs dig into my belly and I have to bite my lip at the delicious ache they’re causing.
“That I’m making you my wife on the first day of your finals.”
I stop breathing for a second.
Did he say ‘making you my wife’ or am I…
Or am I hearing things?
I’m hearing things, aren’t I? I mean, it’s very possible that I might be because I’ve been wanting him to say that for what feels like ages now.
In reality, it’s only been three years.
Three years since I contrived that road trip from L.A. to New York. Three years since he accepted that he loves me too and we told my parents who thankfully—after a little bump in the road—gave their okay.
And three years since I told him that I wanted to marry him as soon as we reached California after our Christmas vacation. I told him that on day four, while driving back with the top down because winter doesn’t feel like winter around these parts. And California Dreamin’ blasting in the background—I gave in to his demands and switched from Lana to put on some vintage rock.
But he said no.
He said that he wanted me to finish college first. But he did comply on one thing. He did move me into his house as soon as we reached California. And he kept his promise and took me everywhere. He showed me all the things in L.A. and around it.
Not only that, for the past three years, he’s been coming with me to visit my family – our family – for all the holidays.
My dad still doesn’t like me living all the way on the west coast, so far away from everyone, but he’s gotten a little relaxed about it. Mostly because Dean is with me, and I’m with him. Which mean, I make sure he calls my mom every week no matter what.
They even visited us last year, Dad, Mom and Brendan.
Speaking of Brendan, he’s grown so much in the past three years. Like, he’s as tall as Dad and Dean. But that’s not the important part.
The important part is that he’s dating Rosie.
Yes, they’re dating!
Oh my God, I completely freaked out when Mom told me. They’ve been dating for a couple of years now. Ever since the Christmas three years ago.
Although, everyone only came to know about it last year. Apparently, there was a huge drama because Uncle Graham was mad and my dad was a little upset too because everything was happening in secret.
But thank God for my mom and Auntie Vi. Things are sorted. Even though, Uncle Graham has a tight leash on Rosie’s schedule and how often she talks to my brot
her on the phone since it’s all long distance right now.
All in all, I’m so very happy for my idiot brother and sweet Rose.
See? That road trip and that Christmas was magic.
But anyway, back to Dean. He never changed his answer about marrying me.
Not until now.
“Y—your wife?”
My arms are trembling around him and so is my body. I can’t seem to believe that he really said that.
“Yeah. I promised I would once you’re done with college,” he says, his eyes boring into mine, his arms tightening around me, keeping me balanced. “And that’s why you worked so hard, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“For me.”
I nod. “For you.”
By working hard, he means that I’m on track to graduate a semester early. My finals start in a couple of weeks and today was going to be our last outing before that.
“So now it’s time to fulfill the promise.”
“But you said the first day of finals. I won’t be graduating then.”
He smiles. “Yeah, but I realized that I didn’t want to make her wait any longer. The girl who worked so hard for me.”
I watch him, watch his beautiful face, my body and breaths shaking.
“So I’m going to be your wife in two weeks,” I whisper slowly, the knowledge starting to sink into my bones like warm honey.
“Yeah.” He swallows. “I… I’m sorry I made you wait, Tiny. I’m sorry for all the things I put you through in the past. All the things that I still put you through. My work and the way I can’t express myself sometimes. I… But I promise I’ll do everything to make you happy. Anything and everything to keep you loving me.”
He’s right.
Just because we’re together doesn’t mean he’s become an easy man. He’s a workaholic. He’s a control freak. He can be emotionally detached sometimes and I have to get in there and break his walls.
He’s very much like my father in that sense.
But I never once doubted that he loves me. I know he does. I see it every day in his eyes when he wakes up beside me or when he comes home from a long day of work and his face relaxes just at the sight of me on our couch with my textbooks around.
I know he loves me and he definitely makes me happy.
“You know, I thought you were going to come up with a nice proposal,” I tease.
Some tension drains out of him. “I tried. But the one a three-year-old girl came up with was pretty fucking amazing.”
I smile. “It was, wasn’t it?”
“Fuck yeah.”
I’m about to say yes and kiss him when he tells me something else. “And we’ll move back to the east coast once you’re done. I’ve been looking into it and I have a job offer—”
“But you just got promoted here.”
Last year, Dean was made the Assistant DA and I don’t know anything about this lawyer stuff but I’ve seen enough movies and I’ve seen Dean really happy to know that it is a big fucking deal.
“Yeah, but I don’t care.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I don’t wanna move to the east coast.”
He frowns, blinking. “But that was the plan, right? You said you wanted to finish college before you moved and now you’re done.”
I did say that.
I never liked California. I never liked the sunshine, the beaches, the one-season kind of weather. And I knew I had the option of moving back with Dean, if I wanted to.
But then I thought maybe I should wait and see.
Besides, once I found out that Dean actually likes it here, he likes his job, his office—he even has a couple of friends here—I decided that for him, I could at least stay here until I finished college.
But I think it’s starting to grow on me.
The very things that I didn’t like, I think I like them now.
I like the wide roads, the straw hats, my surfboard that I will never use, drinks by the pool, flip flops, bikini tops, palm trees, open blue skies.
Blue oceans and my boyfriend—well, soon-to-be husband—emerging out of them with his velvety skin and dripping muscles.
I smile at him. “I know what I said but I like it here now.”
“You like L.A.”
“Yes.” I rub my nose against his. “You showed me so many things here. So many new sights. You had me tolerating the sun. The beach. I even tried to surf. Hello? How awesome am I? I guess I was just waiting for you to make me fall in love with it all.”
He studies me to see if I’m kidding. “You sure about this?”
“Yup. I always dreamed about you, you know. About being with you, spending my life with you. But now you also got me dreaming about California.”
“I did, huh?”
I nod, placing a soft kiss on his warm, touched by the ocean and the sun lips. “You’ve got me California dreamin’.”
THE END
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Want to catch up with all the Heartstone gang?
Medicine Man (Heartstone Series Book 1)
Simon and Willow’s story
Dreams of 18 (Heartstone Series Book 2)
Graham and Violet’s story
Coming 2020
Welcome to St. Mary’s School for Troubled Teenagers: an all-girls reform school where bad girls are sent to become good.
Here rules are iron-clad.
Girls are still bad and wild, albeit secretly.
And no boys are allowed. Like, ever.
Meaning crushing on the principal’s hot son, Arrow, who’s visiting for a few weeks from college and sending him naughty love letters – just for fun – is a big no-no.
If only the new bad girl, Salem Salinger, cared about that. And if only the broody and dark, Arrow Carlisle, cared about her…
ADD ON GOODREADS
My husband: As always, he’s my strength and my reason to do all of this. Thank you for being my very first and true champion.
My parents and my sister: Thank you for being so supportive and enthusiastic about my very unconventional career choice.
Danielle Sanchez: I’m so glad that we crossed paths earlier this year. You’re so innovative and talented, and I’m so happy to have you in my corner.
Melissa Panio-Peterson: Thank you for always being my cheerleader. I adore you and your enthusiasm. And THIS COVER!!!
My editor: Leanne Rabesa – for always cleaning up manuscripts and keeping track of timelines and seasons.
My readers: I want to thank all my readers (blogging and non-blogging) for always supporting me and taking the time to read my words. You guys put a smile on my face every day. THIS IS MY GIFT TO YOU!
Writer of bad romances. Aspiring Lana Del Rey of the Book World.
Saffron A. Kent is a USA Today bestselling author of Contemporary and New Adult romance. More often than not, her love stories are edgy, forbidden and passionate. Her work has been featured in Buzzfeed, Huffington Post, New York Daily News and USA Today’s Happy Ever After.
She has an MFA in creative writing and she lives in New York City with her nerdy and supportive husband. Along with a million and one books.
www.thesaffronkent.com
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