A flash of anger hit hard enough Dean’s fingers curled into fists. “Shut up.”
And before he could take it back, Jack had a finger in his face, gleeful delight dancing in his expression. “Damn, you finally succumbed.”
To what? Some weird illness that was twisting his guts into rock-solid knots? He swore softly, but his friend just grinned, zero sympathy on his face.
“You can stop looking like I just handed you a pony,” Dean grunted. “This isn’t funny.”
“Sure as hell looks hilarious from where I’m sitting.”
Dean shook his head. “You’re not listening. We were together a million years ago. I’m not the man I was back then.”
“Of course you aren’t,” Jack agreed. “You’ve gone through hell and back. It’s called life, bro. What does that have to do with anything?”
Why was it so frickin’ hard to admit this? Even to one of his best friends.
Or maybe it was because this was his best friend. “Sex. As in, back then I had to work like crazy on not losing it within seconds of touching her. My tastes have changed.”
Understanding finally rolled in, and Jack lost his amusement. Or so Dean thought. Because when his friend spoke, it was only to taunt a little harder.
“Yeah, I can see how having a guy who knows how to work it in bed would totally suck for a woman.”
“Asshole.”
“Idiot.” Jack reached across the table and gave Dean’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’re flipping out over this chick, you obviously want to be more than fuck buddies, and you’re worried because you’re more experienced than when you were a teenager?”
It did sound stupid when Jack put it that way. But…
“What if it scares her?”
One of Jack’s brows rose skyward. “Really? Dean the Sex Machine is worried about being able to put a smile on a woman’s face? Dude, that’s not the part you need to get straight in your fucking head.”
Frustration lingered, but Jack wasn’t taunting anymore. He was focused and intent. “Look at the table, bro,” he ordered.
Dean glanced down, shocked to find a phone number written on the napkin in front of him. A napkin he didn’t remember seeing there before. “What the hell is that?”
“Exactly.” Jack tilted his head toward the bar, where a blonde in a low-cut top fluttered her fingers at their table, her gaze locked on Dean as she licked her lips. “That’s how I know this Emma is special. You haven’t seen a single woman the entire time we’ve been here, including Bambi over there who was whispering all kinds of invitations a few minutes ago when she topped up the pitcher.”
“She was here?” Damn, he’d really been out of it. He considered for a moment, skimming his gaze over the woman’s lush curves and imagining how he could finish his evening. But the longer he looked, the more Emma’s image intruded. Her body under his hands, her face as he took her over the edge.
Jack was right, on all counts. Emma was special, and Dean wanted much, much more than to fuck her for a couple months. He wanted to finish proving he was different, but he also wanted to prove he was still one thing: perfect for her.
“Do you want her back?” Jack asked, voicing his thoughts.
Dean swallowed. Then he nodded. “Yeah…I think I do.”
No, he knew he did. His chest was tight and achy, his heart beating rapidly with each breath he took. He hadn’t felt this way in eleven years. For more than a decade, he’d fucked his way through life, hooked up with more women than he could count—or even remember—but he hadn’t realized until now part of the reason for that was because he’d been trying to get that feeling back. The excitement that came not from getting a woman naked, but from seeing her smile. The hot rush of emotion that spilled over him when he held her hand, or snuggled close in bed, or heard her laugh.
It was awe-inspiring that Emma Lee could still make him feel all those things after so many years apart. But damn it, now that those incredible sensations were flowing through him again, he didn’t want to let them go.
He didn’t want to let her go.
“So about the sex…” He hesitated. “I shouldn’t try to be all soft and gentle and shit?”
His friend shrugged. “You don’t need a game card, bro. Go with what feels right and see what she thinks.” Jack’s tone finally grew one hundred percent serious. “If she’s the one for you, don’t let her get away. It’s not just about sex. What I have with Pepper makes me happy in a way I never imagined possible. I want that for you. You deserve it.”
And so did Emma, Dean realized. She deserved the man he’d become—someone who knew how to reach his goals. And his current goal?
To make Emma fall in love with him again. With the man he was now, the man he’d be for her. It would be a challenge, but that was fine. Rangers didn’t give up that easily.
He could hardly wait to see her again, but next time it wasn’t going to be for a booty call.
Dean Colter was a man with a new mission.
Emma Lee’s heart.
Chapter Twelve