All of her.
And I need to give her all of me.
But how the fuck do I do that?
I keep one hand on her hips to guide her.
I bring the other to the back of her head.
My fingers curl into her scalp as I pull her into a soft, slow kiss.
She wraps her arms around my shoulders.
I pull her closer.
Kiss her harder.
She rocks against me, rubbing her clit against my pubic bone.
Fuck, the friction of her soft, sweet cunt.
I groan against her lips.
She pulls back with a sigh of pleasure.
Her head tilts to the right. Her hair falls in front of her eyes. Her lips part with a moan.
"Fuck." Her nails dig into the tender skin on my shoulders.
I look up at her. Watch pleasure spill over her expression as she drives me deeper.
It hits me all at once.
I love her.
I'm balls deep in the woman who's owned my masturbatory fantasies since I was a teenager, and it's the only thing in my head.
The timing is fucked.
And it's perfect.
My fingers curl into her hips. I guide her body over mine, so she can drive me deeper again and again.
Fuck.
My balls tighten.
My eyes close.
I reach up for her. Bring my hand to her cheek. Rub her temple with my thumb.
She lets out a soft murmur.
Then she's wrapping her arms around me.
Bringing her lips to mine.
We stay locked together, rocking together, breathing together, hearts beating together until she's there.
She pulls back to groan my name.
Her pulsing pushes me over the edge.
Pleasure floods my body as I come. I hold her close. Groan her name into her neck as I spill every drop.
She looks up at me with hazy eyes.
Her lips curl into the perfect shy smile.
And it hits me again.
I'm crazy fucking in love with her.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chloe
When we aren't working, we're in Dean's bed. Kissing, touching, fucking, talking about everything and nothing.
My last bit of defenses crumble.
I forget about the test results. About the difficulty of drawing a line between girlfriend/boyfriend and teacher/apprentice.
I forget about everything but the comfort of his body against mine.
I shouldn't lose myself in his arms. I shouldn't let down my walls. I shouldn't let myself fall for someone. Not without knowing if I'm going to be around.
But I do.
I can't help it.
Time is funny. When I’m with Dean, days blur together.
When I’m not, seconds stretch into hours.
The week goes quickly. And slowly. Except for the holy fuck am I going to die question nagging at me, it’s normal.
We work. We play. We fuck like rabbits.
Brendon makes a big deal of wishing me goodbye before he leaves for his mini vacation. He’s taking his girlfriend back to New Jersey, to be with her parents for the one year anniversary of her grandma’s death.
It’s sweet.
And it’s everything I’m avoiding.
It makes the voice in my head a hundred decibels louder.
Thankfully, the next day brings a distraction in the form of tattooed sex god Hunter Keating. (Okay, I don’t know that he’s a sex god, but that seems to be the case for most guys around here).
He arrives at the shop bright and early, fingers wrapped around a thermos of coffee, deep blue eyes filled with calm concentration, chip firmly on shoulder.
If anything, he looks more broody and intense than he did last week.
I guess it fits. He is filling in for Brendon. If this is Hunter’s usual vibe, he more than belongs here.
Dean nods a hello. He motions to our suite, where I’m working on a mock up.
I shoot him a what’s that supposed to mean look.
He chuckles. “I looked at you. That enough for a reaction, sunshine?”
More than enough. With everything going through my head… I need to be at his apartment. In his arms. In his bed.
I need the rest of the world to go away.
I stand, set my sketchbook on the chair, greet Hunter. “Hey Hunter.” I offer my hand.
He shakes. “Good to see you, Chloe.”
I nod.
“It’s Chloe Grace Lee,” Dean jumps in. “And she knows karate—”
“Aikido,” I correct.
His voice stays bouncy. Proud. “Don’t fuck with her or she’ll fuck you up.”
Hunter’s eyes flit from me to Dean then back to me. He’s trying to figure out why Dean is teasing me.
Okay, he’s trying to figure out if we’re fucking.
Dean’s wearing his usual I love starting shit smile.
Does he care if Hunter knows?
There is something about this being our world. About having our secret.
Especially when…
Who knows what the hell happens after I get the call?
“Shit, you can cut the sexual tension with a knife, huh?” Dean winks at me. Then at Hunter.
I stare at my… whatever I should call him, trying to figure out his intentions.
There’s something about his devilish smile, about the softness in his eyes.
He’s trying to keep me here. To keep me present.
He’s doing it in the most Dean way possible.
But, well, that’s the man I… I can’t use that word. Not yet. But, fuck, I really, really like him.
I take a deep breath. Shrug my shoulders. There’s a lot to do today. I can’t get sucked into thoughts about the future.
I motion for Hunter to follow me. “You’re borrowing Brendon’s suite for now.” I lead him to the center suite. “Not that it’s officially his. Now that you’re working here—”
“I’m just filling in,” he says.
I look back to Dean. He knows Hunter a lot better than I do, but there’s no sign he knows why Hunter is all quiet and afraid of commitment.
God, he really is intense.
Hurt.
He’s trying to hide it, but it’s there. It’s all over his expressive eyes.
Thank god for eyeliner and mascara, or I’d be cursed with the same problem.
“Been awhile, huh?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I study Hunter. Fail to find a clue as to why he’s walking around with the weight of the world on his shoulders. “How have you been?”
“Alright,” he lies. “How about you?”
“I’m here.” I turn to Dean. Motion play along. I need to step into a role. I need to be someone other than the girl waiting for her test results. “It’s horrible torture, being here, but at least I’m learning.”
“Oh yeah? You want to quit?” Dean teases.
I flip him off. “What if I do, Dick Face?”
He blows me a kiss. “You know I take that as a compliment.”
My cheeks flush. “He’s under some delusion that by calling him Dick Face, I’m saying his dick is beautiful.”
“And?” Hunter asks.
“I’ve seen better.” There’s a wink in my voice.
Even though he’s behind me, I can feel Dean’s smile.
We’re flirting through Hunter.
It’s wrong. And weird. And hot as hell.
I take Hunter through everything in the suite. Explain the shop layout. Show him his schedule—when Emma isn’t working, I’m the one in charge of it.
He nods along with everything I say, quiet and intense, then he falls back into work.
I take his lead. Try my best to focus on our first appointment. Fail.
My head keeps going back to the test results.
To the little matter of whether I’m going to live or die.
When we finally break, I'm dead tired. Leighton wasn't kidding about tattoos being bad for your back. Hunching over clients all day is brutal.
I let Emma charm her way through check out, but she isn't her usual confident self. She trips over her words. Blushes endlessly. Shifts her weight between her feet nervously.
Her attention isn’t on the client.
It’s on Hunter.
She’s as bad as I am.
As smitten as I am.
I wait until he leaves to approach the counter.
She folds her arms over her chest. Shakes off her blush. "What?"
"You know Hunter?"
"Oh. Well… Yeah." She bites her lip. "He and Brendon have been friends for a long time."
"Oh, he's the one—"
"Shut up." She motions to Ryan, sitting in his suite, working on a mock-up. "I don't need the lecture. Not from Ryan and not from you."