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“Mmmm?” She stretched up and turned on the couch. “That was amazing.”
“I thought for a second you passed out,” he said.
“No, just becoming putty in your hands.” Climbing to her feet, she picked up the pizza box to take it into the kitchen, but his hand caught her wrist.
“Is that right? That’s all it takes to make you completely pliable?”
The conversation was quickly heading into a more-than-friends direction, but wasn’t that exactly what she wanted to know? If they were really friends or if this was actually some kind of game? Because at this point, she was so confused by their ever-changing status that she wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore.
You know you want him, right? Isn’t that enough for now? Why does everything need to be figured out tonight?
Because she didn’t want to fall for him and have him walk out like everyone else in her life.
“Is that what you want?” She spoke softly, their faces so close that she could lean forward just a bit and brush his lips with hers. “For me to just let you take care of me? To make me feel better?”
“It sounds kind of romantic, right? I swoop in and save the damsel in distress, and despite her efforts to escape, fate keeps throwing us together?”
Did he think she was kidding? She didn’t need rescuing, and she didn’t want him thinking he was some kind of savior.
He released her wrist, and she set the pizza down. When she faced him once more, her hands were planted firmly on her hips.
“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right? I never said I needed you to save me. In fact, I believe I’ve told you the opposite over and over.”
Suddenly, he tugged her down onto his lap and, before she could squirm away, tangled his fingers in her hair. “Maybe I’m the one who needs saving.”
She stared into his eyes, captivated by their intensity. “From what?”
“From turning back into an angry, bitter asshole.” Grazing her lips with his, he whispered, “Haven’t you noticed I’m a better man around you?”
“Better? If a pestering, overbearing guy with a penchant for surprise drop-bys is better than . . . ”
He kissed her, softly drawing on her lips until her stomach clenched with longing and she was gripping his biceps.
“Do you want me to go?” He nipped at her bottom lip. “If you aren’t glad to see me, I’ll walk out that door and you can keep the pizza.”
Her body was practically vibrating with desire, and he was asking her if she wanted him to leave? It was probably the smart move, but Violet didn’t feel like being smart.
She just wanted to be with Dean.
Violet cupped the back of his neck and brought his mouth back to hers. “Don’t go.”
As their lips clashed in another kiss, this one was less coaxing. It was filled with the pent-up wanting they’d both been holding back, and as his tongue pushed between her lips, she opened to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Violet was swiftly swept up in him, the scrape of his rough palm against the sensitive skin of her neck as his hands sought the front of her blouse. The press of his leg against her throbbing center, aching to get closer.
His mouth began leaving feathery light kisses along her jaw as he slipped each button from its hole, spreading her shirt with his hands.
“I could still smell the sweet scent of your skin in my bed, and it drove me insane. Even after I washed the sheets, it was as if you had left a piece of yourself behind to tease me.”
His words were sweet, romantic, and she wanted more of it. More of Dean. She was so tired of denying herself, of keeping him at a distance. Tomorrow she could worry. Tonight, she just wanted to feel what it was like to be with Dean. Not the guy at the concert, the gorgeous one-night stand she’d planned to never see again. She wanted Dean as she knew him now; the man who painted porches and cared too much and made her feel like she was alive for the first time.
Violet closed her eyes, tilting her head back as his lips traveled over her chest. When he pulled her breast from the cup of her bra and sucked the peak of her nipple into his mouth, she cried out, jerking against him, trying to soothe her arousal only to intensify it.
And then she was suddenly on her back, with Dean hovering over her on the couch. His hands covered her breasts, squeezing and manipulating them as his lips and tongue swept down the middle of her stomach. It was like being pulled in so many different directions she was afraid that any moment she would burst into a thousand pieces.
His hot breath warmed her through her slacks as he placed his mouth at the apex of her thighs, eliciting frustrated moans of desire as she raised her hips.
Dilbert broke out in a round of ferocious barks, startling her out of the moment.
“Shut up, Dil,” Dean murmured.
