“And what do we do in these fantasies of yours, Olivia Rose?” he asked.
I swept my gaze to the line of his mouth, my pulse spiking at the memory of his lips crushing mine. “Lots of kissing and touching.”
“Nice.”
“Oh, it’s nice.” I brushed my thumb against the secret notch beneath his lower lip.
Though Dean’s eyes fairly smoldered, he didn’t move to kiss me. The last remnants of my unease slipped away as I closed the distance between us and pressed my mouth to his. His lips were so warm and firm that I melted at the sensation of them moving against mine.
I curled my fingers into the material of his T-shirt, flicking my tongue out to probe at the seam of his lips. My pulse leapt when he opened his mouth to let me inside, then I put my hands on either side of his face and deepened the kiss.
A lovely haze descended over me. He tasted like butter, his breath hot against my lips. My heartbeat continued to throb, every beat pulsing heat through my veins. After a long moment of kissing, I paused to stare into his lust-filled eyes.
“Don’t you want to touch me?” I whispered.
“More than I want to breathe.”
“I promise I won’t freak out this time.”
He exhaled hard. “I promise I won’t act like an ass if you do.”
“You didn’t. I’m just not used to this.” I tightened my hand over his. “But I really liked the way you touched me.”
“One day I’m going to touch you in a thousand different ways and show you how to touch me.” Dean slid his hand around the back of my neck. “But right now we’re just going to make out.”
He pulled me closer, easing back so I could stretch out on top of him. I loved the coiled strength of his body beneath mine, the way our chests pressed together and our breath moved in tandem. He drew my head to his and kissed me, the pressure slow and exquisitely easy.
The man knew how to kiss. He rubbed his lower lip against mine, slid his mouth down to nibble at my neck, flicked his tongue out to lick the corners of my lips. His hands spread over the back of my head, angling our mouths together. My eyes drifted closed.
Heat and pleasure billowed through me. I sank into the sensations, unafraid, tunneling my hands into his hair to hold him against me. Our kisses went from soft and gentle to open-mouthed and hot, then back to soft and gentle again. I lost track of time as my heart beat in time to the instinctive rhythm of our kissing, the gentle easing in and pulling back, like waves rippling the glass-smooth surface of a lake.
Dean pressed his mouth to my cheek, trailing a path to my ear where his breath tickled the strands of hair against my neck. He lifted his head to look at me, his eyes filled with both desire and affection, and stroked his hands down to rub my back.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Okay,” I breathed.
His fingers flexed against my waist as our lips met again. I closed my teeth gently over his lower lip, eliciting a groan from deep in his throat. Emboldened, I spread my hands over his chest. The heat of his body burned through his shirt and up my arms. His heartbeat pounded against my palm.
Through the cloud of passion, I was dimly aware of his erection pressing against my leg, and my own body softened in response. A coil of urgency tightened through me, but even then I knew we wouldn’t go any farther than this heart-melting, delicious kissing.
And we didn’t. I don’t know how long it lasted, but somehow it felt as if we had never been apart. We broke the rhythm at the same time, both lifting our heads to stare at each other.
The sight of him—his hot, dark eyes, sharp features flushed with heat, rumpled hair—warmed my blood all over again. He pushed his hands through my hair, easing the loose strands away from my face.
Then he pressed the back of my head gently, urging me to rest against his chest. He brushed his lips across my forehead. I relaxed on top of him, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat.
He stroked his palms up and down my back as our breathing slowed. Lulled by the sensations, I drifted into a smooth, deep sleep, one unbroken by sharp-edged dreams.
And when dawn appeared through a crack in the sky, I woke with a feeling of safety I had never before known.
We’d changed positions on the sofa during the night, and now the length of Dean’s body pressed against my back. His chest moved steadily in the rhythm of sleep. His breath warmed my skin. One of his arms was flung around my waist, and his hand curled loosely around my wrist.
A wave of pleasure surged beneath my heart. I lay still for a long moment, folded into the arms of this warm, strong man who was willing to bear the weight of my confessions. A man who admired my resolve and still wanted to protect me. A man who saw beauty in me.
Behind me, he shifted, his stubble scraping my neck, his voice a whisper. The crack in the sky opened wider, filling with light the color of apricots.
CHAPTER TEN
Olivia
September 4