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I suck a breath through my nose as I come down.
He looks down at me like I'm his salvation.
Maybe I am. If he really has been spending the last few years with that empty spot in his gut. The one that can only be filled with loving someone and letting them love you.
I want that so badly. To have that well of trust inside me. That willingness to drag someone through hell with me.
My eyes close.
My lips find his.
He kisses me as he drives into me. His strokes speed then steady.
I get lost in the motions of our bodies.
Until he's there, groaning my name into my neck, pulsing inside me.
Kissing me like I'm everything he needs.
Chapter Thirty
Dean
At work, Ryan is sitting at the front desk, scribbling a mock-up into his sketchbook, cup of coffee by his side.
His eyes dart from his paper to me. "Can't remember the last time I saw that look."
I drop my backpack in my suite. Cross the room to the counter. "This is my everyday look."
"No." He stares into my eyes, picking me apart in that Ryan kind of way. "You're happy."
"I'm always happy."
He shakes his head. "You're always amusing yourself. But this is different. Like… no… that's not possible."
"No?" I hoist myself onto the counter. Tap my feet together. "Go on."
"Nah. I must be imagining shit."
"Yours is vivid."
His smile gets dreamy. He looks out the windows, taking in the blue sky and the ocean view.
He sighs that I'm thinking about Leighton sigh.
At first it was sweet. It was nice not seeing him a miserable shell of himself.
Then I got sick of the swooning.
But now…
Fuck, it's like I want to hug him or something. Don't get me wrong. I always want to hug Ryan. My older brother is squeamish about affection from anyone but Leighton. Hugging him is fucking with him.
And fucking with people is my favorite pastime.
Damn. I'm losing track of my point. It's Chloe. My brain keeps going back to her. The way her lips part with her groan. The way her back arches. The way she pulses around me.
But my brain doesn't stop at sex.
