“She’s—”
His hips slide forward. “I’m done sharing you tonight.”
“Dean,” I sigh.
“One kiss?” he asks. “Please?”
His voice so desperate like he’s pleading for a drop of water after running a marathon.
“Shouldn’t you see me to the door first?”
His lips turn up, his perfect row of teeth making an appearance. “You don’t want to make-out in the elevator?”
“One, I agreed to a kiss. Two, kind of cliché, don’t you think?”
He leans forward, his nose running along my cheek, gliding down to my neck and back up to my ear. Goose bumps prick my skin. “I wish I could oblige with your wishes, but if my lips don’t land on yours in the next ten seconds, I’m going to die.”
“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” My voice doesn’t hold the tone of reproach it should. Instead, it’s breathy and inviting.
“Come on. I’ve been a good boy, can’t I get a treat?”
The elevator dings and the doors are about to open, but Dean presses and holds the door open button, leaning into me.
His lips hover over mine and he waits. “I won’t do it unless you agree.”
He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, his eyes devouring me like he’s a starved man and I’m the innocent prey he’s caught.
“One kiss,” I whisper, unable to deny him any longer.
No sooner do the words get out of my mouth, then his lips are on mine. One of his hands slide around my waist, pulling me into him, his erection poking at my stomach. My hands landing on his cheeks, keeping his lips on mine.
Dean takes what he wants. There’s no gentleness when his tongue thrashes with mine, there’s no slow going as our heated kiss turns frantic. Our heads weave from side to side, unable to get enough of each other.
The elevator alarm buzzes from Dean holding the button so long and we finally break apart as quickly as we came together.
Needing air, I race out of the elevator and down the hall to my apartment, him following me the entire way.
Turning around when I reach my door, I stare up at him. “This is where we say goodbye and you already got your goodnight kiss.”
“Pushing my luck for a second?”
I nod.
“Say it.”
“Say what?”
“Say I can’t have a second taste.”
“You can’t have a second taste.”
His gaze dips down to my chest, probably noticing my uneven breathing. He leans forward, his head descending.
“Dean,” I say, losing any fight inside of me.
His lips never touch mine this time. His hands are in his pockets, but his breath tickles my ear. “Sweet dreams, Chelsea. Thank you for a great night.” He backs away. “I want to make sure you get in.” He nods to the door.
“Goodnight, Dean.” I fiddle with my keys somehow losing all sense of what key I’m supposed to be using. Finally, someone is looking down on me because I find it, stick it in the lock and click the door open.
I flick on the light of my apartment and circle around. “Thank you.”
“Enjoy Rambo,” he snickers and heads toward the elevator again.
“Enjoy Steel Magnolias,” I call out as he heads down the hall.
Circling around, he shakes his head. “Didn’t I ever tell you? I have the memory of an elephant.” He taps the side of his head with his finger. “There’s enough in my arsenal, I don’t need a video of you to relive it.”
I don’t bother mentioning that dolphins have a better memory than elephants according to science.
“Now, get in there and lock yourself in. We’ll talk tomorrow,” he says.
He stops and waits in the middle of the hallway of my apartment floor.
Not knowing what else to say, I shut the door and flip the lock wishing like hell he was on this side with me.
Chapter Thirteen
One week later, I’m all decked out in my black and white, wearing jeans and a White Sox shirt, sweatshirt tied around my waist. The only thing I’m leaving behind is my hat. Since this is an office thing, I don’t want to appear too grungy.
A knock lands on my door at the exact time Dean said he’d be here. As usual, my stomach erupts into its own little firework show inside. It’s been a common occurrence every time he texts me. He’s tried to call, but I’m not ready just yet.
I open the door.
“Oh, excuse me, I have to go throw up.” I pretend to choke, taking in his head to toe blue and red ensemble.
“Damn, even in White Sox crap you look hot.” He steps in.
“Please come in,” I say sarcastically, and he shrugs. “Why is it you never have to press the buzzer?”
There’s a buzzer to get into the apartment building, but he always seems to find his own way in.
“Did you swindle a key from my landlord?”
“Believe me, it’s scary how easy it is to get into this place. I’m half tempted to move you out.”
His jeans are slightly worn but still have that new look to them. His Cubs shirt and jersey pull at his shoulders and I realize that he opted to skip the hat, too. Though his hair is messier than when I was at his office. Must be his casual Saturday look.
“Is this okay? Since it’s a work thing.” I motion to what I’m wearing.
He looks me over. “I don’t know. Spin.”
I glare at him and he chuckles.
“Worth a try.”
I grab my cell phone, tucking it into my crossbody purse and get set to leave.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Let’s go see the Cubs kick the Sox ass.”
I roll my eyes. We clear the doorway and I lock my door, Dean waiting for me the entire time.
As we make our way to the elevator, his hand finds mine and he entwines our fingers. “I figure we should get used to it. They think you’re my girlfriend.” He presses the elevator button.
“Not your ex-wife.”
“I don’t like them knowing too much about me.”
I raise both eyebrows at him. “So, you want me to pretend I’m your girlfriend?”
“Are you seeing anyone else?” he asks and I’m half-tempted to lie.
“Technically, I’m not seeing anyone.”
“Do you swallow every one of your date’s tongues?”
The elevator arrives, we step in and I purposely leave space between us. “You swallowed mine, for the record.”
He chuckles. “I’d swallow a hell of a lot more if you’d let me.”
There goes the hot flash like I’m a menopausal fifty-year-old woman.
“I think I’d be the one swallowing.” Tit for tat.
“You always were a gamer when it came to that. Then again, it’s probably because you didn’t want a mess.” He winks.
Thankfully, the elevator doors open, and we exit the apartment building.
“It’s so sunny,” I exclaim.
“Like a true summer day.” He captures my hand again and leads me down the street.
“Public transportation today?” I ask as he weaves me through the crowded weekend streets.