“Oh…” Blissful tension began to spiral through me, and the threads of discomfort faded into a swirl of colors. I seized Dean’s forearms and pulled, wanting him closer.
His mouth crashed down on mine as he thrust again, and then we were pushing and sweating and rocking together. He filled me over and over, still slow until I flexed upward to meet his every entry.
Then his thrusts grew faster, eliciting streams of sensation that seemed endless, his shaft sliding in until he could go no farther before he pulled away and pushed forward again. The rhythm increased in pace, his breath rasping against my neck.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his thighs. My breasts rubbed against his chest with every push, sensitizing my nipples. Thoughts fell away, and there was only the feeling of his thrusts, the need spooling through my body, his hands and lips everywhere.
I convulsed again, my inner muscles clenching around his cock. He groaned and thrust deep, his body tensing above me as release coursed through him. When he rolled to the side, we both panted for breath, our bodies slick with sweat.
My sex throbbed, pleasure coating my mind like a fine mist. Dean reached over and put his hand on my belly.
“Wow,” he said. “That was… terrible.”
I started to laugh. He grinned and pulled me to him, kissing me and squeezing my bottom. I sank against him, my curves yielding to the hard planes of his body.
“Stay with me,” he said.
“Yes.”
I tumbled into a shallow sleep with the scent of him on my skin. When I woke at three in the morning, my body was sore—but in a pulsing, rather pleasant way. I hadn’t slept very well, waking and turning often, but no dreams had disrupted my light slumber.
I shifted toward Dean. I’d never slept in the same bed with a man before. He was lying on his back, one arm thrown over his head and the sheet tangled around his waist.
I lifted myself on one elbow to look at him. Slivers of moonlight slanted through the blinds and spread over his long, half-naked body. His features were relaxed in sleep, his eyelashes shadowing his cheekbones.
Reaching out a tentative finger, I traced the half-moon line of his eyelash. Like feathers sweeping across my fingertip. He twitched. I lowered my hand and tracked my gaze over his body from his shoulders to the planes of his abdomen.
A foreign emotion rose in me—a mixture of longing and affection and fear. When I lifted my eyes back to his face, I found him watching me.
For a moment, we just looked at each other.
“Nice to wake up and see you here,” he said.
“Nice to wake up and be here.”
He reached out to push my hair away from my forehead. “You okay?”
“Remember last month when we went to the botanical gardens?” I asked.
“That day you wanted to see what plants were still blooming at the end of October and we nearly froze our asses off? Yeah, I remember.”
I grinned. “Remember how that wind was biting through our coats and stinging our cheeks, and the cold got into our bones? Then remember we went to the conservatory, and the moment we stepped inside we were in the warm, humid tropics with blooming orchids, butterflies, canaries, and waterfalls?”
Dean twined a lock of my hair around his finger.
“Yeah,” he said. “I remember.”
“That’s how I feel.”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “You have me at your feet, Olivia Rose. You know that, don’t you?”
“No, but that sounds very promising.”
I leaned over to kiss him, pleasure flooding every part of my being. We sank into each other for a few long, luscious minutes before Dean eased away. Desire filled his eyes, and I glided my hand down his chest and beneath the covers.
He captured my wrist with a laugh. “Not so fast.”
“You don’t want…”
“Oh, I do,” he said, his gaze sliding down to my bare breasts. “And I will. But you’re probably sore, so I’m going to make us both wait awhile.”
I wondered how long awhile was. I stopped the downward trek of my hand and settled for rubbing circles on his abdomen. “I have a morning shift at Jitter Beans.”
“I’ll take you, then come back here. I need to get those essays finished and start grading midterms.”
Midterms were already over. It had been almost three months since that day at the registrar’s office.
“It’ll be Thanksgiving soon,” I said.
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to visit your family?”
“I usually do.”
There was a dissonant note to his voice that sparked my curiosity. I leaned my head on my hand and studied him.
“What’s it like?” I asked. “Thanksgiving with your family?”
“Tense.”
“Why?”
“My mother always has this illusion about what holidays should be like, but things can’t be that way.”
“Because of your brother?” I asked.
“Because of everyone.” Dean shifted to look at me. “What about you? Not so good?”
I shook my head. “My mother and I spent most Thanksgivings at diners. Sometimes with the guy she was seeing at the time. Sometimes alone. I’ll probably visit Aunt Stella this year.”
He was silent for a moment before he asked, “Do you want to come to California with me instead?”