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Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chloe

Dean joins me in the shower.

His hard, wet body presses against mine as we move past each other.

He runs his fingers through my hair as he helps me shampoo and condition. I rise to my tiptoes to do the same to him.

He catches me when I slip.

He presses his soft, wet lips to mine.

Rubs soap over my shoulders, arms, back, chest, stomach.

I take my time exploring every inch of his torso. Hard muscles. Soft skin. All those lines of ink.

He feels good against my fingertips.

Right.

I'm ready to spend eternity in the shower with Dean.

Until I hear the whir of the garage door.

Shit.

What the hell is Dad doing home?

I press my back against my bedroom door. Suck a shallow breath through my teeth.

Today is out to get me. Or at least to give me an anxiety attack.

Dean chuckles as he pulls his boxers on. "Relax." He steps into his jeans. "I know what I'm doing."

Maybe he does, but I don't. "My dad has never caught me with a guy."

"He knows we're fucking."

"How do you figure?"

"The way he looked at me when I picked you up." He pulls his t-shirt on. "He was deciding if I was worth his daughter's time."

"And?"

"Pretty sure he liked me."

He did like Dean.

And he did send me that sassy text.

I'm sure Dad realizes I have a sex life. Even if I didn't have a sex life until last night.

Dean moves to my dresser. Opens my underwear drawer. Tosses me a pair of panties. "Though I'd prefer if you skipped them."

"How did you—"

"That pic you sent." He runs his fingers through his wet hair. "Fuck. I can't think about that or I'm gonna get hard."

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