My gaze sweeps over the surroundings, taking in more details. Another dull room with no life to it. Not even a clock next to the bed. Other than the view of the sun playing peek-a-boo between the surrounding high-rises, it feels cold and the complete opposite of how I usually feel when I’m with Dean.
The toilet flushes and a chill wraps around my body.
“Nap time.” He goes to what I assume is his side of the bed. We weren’t together long enough to each have a side of our own. It went from the two of us in the middle, to one of us on the couch.
“It’s like four o’clock,” I joke, starting to feel slightly exposed and more than a little vulnerable.
“Do you have somewhere to be?” he asks, laying the comforter and sheets out farther.
“No.”
“Then let’s take a nap and then we can order in food.”
“Dean, I have a life.”
He stares at me a moment, as though for the first time he’s at a loss for words. Then he breaks the distance, his hand already prepped in position to cup my cheek when he steps into me. My stomach flutters and my tough girl act crumbles.
“Tonight, let me be your life.” He presses his lips to my forehead, his hand gliding down my arm until my hand lands in his.
He doesn’t pull or yank me toward the bed, he takes one step at a time, leaving enough slack between us in case I don’t follow. Which means he knows we’re still not close to where we’ve been.
“Half an hour,” I say begrudgingly.
He eyes me, nods, though the smirk on his face says he doesn’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me either.
Waiting at the edge of the bed, I crawl in first, suddenly exhausted from the hottest sex I’ve had in half a decade.
“Half hour and then I’ll replenish you.” He pulls me into him, his arms secure around me, his lips sprinkling kisses on my forehead and temple. Our legs are in a tangled mess, and my cheek is pressed against his muscled chest.
“Did you mean what you said?” His voice is soft and insecure, sounding nothing like the man who just withheld my orgasm until I told him what he wanted to hear.
I prop my chin on his chest, my own hand running along the small patch of hair on his chest.
“Well, you were holding my orgasm back with your delicate thrusting.”
I smile, he doesn’t.
Shit, where is the Dean Bennett I know? The one who would challenge me.
“And I’ll do it again.” His lips curve a bit, but he’s still holding back.
“Dean.” I direct his eyes back on me, sliding up a little so he has no choice but to focus on me. “Orgasms don’t make me lie. I’m in this. I can’t deny that I’m terrified, but you’ve done more than enough to prove to me that you’ve changed so far.”
“Do you ever think we still need to clear the air? Let it all out…talk about everything that happened?”
I slide back down, my head finding relief in the crook of his neck. The manly smell that’s his alone is like a security blanket to me. “Not today, okay?” I murmur.
“Okay, I’ll give you a pass.” He kisses the top of my head and before I can think about when and if we’ll have to have that conversation my eyes drift shut and I’m fast asleep.
It’s nighttime before I wake from the deepest slumber I’ve had in a while—at least when alcohol wasn’t involved. Although Dean’s blinds are open, the sky is ominous with tall dark buildings blocking the view of the moon. People are home from work and the windows are lit up like a game of connect the dots.
I scoot down and out of Dean’s arms, sliding off the bed setting my feet on the ground. Heading down the hall, I tiptoe as quietly as possible. Whatever happened to carpet? Why does no one have carpeting anymore? It makes it much easier to sneak around.
The sound of my phone vibrating is like a screeching alarm in the quiet place. My footsteps increase in speed and I dig into my purse, retrieving the vibrating device.
My hand freezes and the phone drops to the counter.
It bounces around like my unicorn cock vibrator after I come when I drop it between my legs.
The word Mom flashes from the phone as it shakes along the table.
She’s probably using that sixth sense to know I’m here with Dean. The man I’m certain she’s hired a hitman to kill.
I grab Dean’s shirt from the floor, buttoning it up.
“Don’t go getting dressed.” His groggy voice sends an electric current down my body, like it’s saying I’m ready for more.
Down girl.
I turn to see him in a pair of basketball shorts—bare-chested, hair askew and droopy eyelids. This is my Dean.
“Don’t go thinking you can boss me around.” Sliding my phone off the counter, I drop it back into my purse.
His fingers begin unbuttoning his shirt. “I love you in my clothes, but not tonight.”
Once he’s done, he lets the fabric fall open and his hands run across my stomach, his fingers dangerously close to the area between my legs. “I’m not sure you ever like me dressed.”
My phone vibrates again, and I circle around in his arms.
“Tell me that’s not a guy.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my breasts into his strong chest. “Worse.”
“Nothing is worse than having to compete with someone, especially when I feel like the deck is stacked against me.” I press my lips to his chest and his hands slide down my back and cup my ass.
“I’m here. Why would you be worried?”
“I had you here once and I lost you.”
“Well then try harder this time.” I smile to break the mood. We do better with funny than emotional.
“I gotta run down and get Grover, but first I’ll feed you.” He smacks my ass, much lighter this time around and then turns to head to the other side of the breakfast bar.
“You’d leave me naked?” I button up his shirt.
“I’d eat my meal off you.” He opens the fridge and grabs two white Chinese boxes. “Lo-Mein and Mongolian beef?” He sets them on the counter and then pulls out two more. “Fried rice and egg rolls.”
“Did you suspect I’d be here?” I round the counter, jumping up on the surface. Chinese food is my favorite.
“You forget, I introduced you to Mongolian beef.”
He has a point. Up until him, I only ate fried rice and egg rolls.
“No one likes a know-it-all.” I crack open a container, and my stomach rumbles. Funny thing is, I like cold Chinese food more than warm.
“Come on, we’ll Netflix and chill with it.” He bundles the containers in his hands, digging out two forks from a sliding drawer.
I grab two waters and follow him to the couch. “I think we already did that.”
He sits down and places the containers on the glass table. “And we’ll be doing it again. Are you sure you don’t want to let me eat off your body?” He winks, and his gaze rolls over me like I’m a six-layer chocolate cake and he’s PMSing.
Just like that, he kick-starts my lady parts into wanting another ride on the Dean Bennett rollercoaster.
“I know it’s none of my business, but who was on the phone?” he asks.