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“Oh, I’ll give you hot flashes.” He grins down at me when his eyes finally come back to mine.
My laughter quickly cuts off when he climbs on top of me and presses his mouth to mine, settling himself between my thighs. I wrap my arms around his back and my legs around his waist, clinging to him as tightly as I can, and memorizing everything about the way he makes me feel, staying in the moment with this man instead of worrying about tomorrow.
Even though we rushed to get in here, everything slows down as soon as he pushes inside me. There’s nothing frantic or hurried about the way we come together this time, as opposed to the night in Ed’s office. Dean runs his hands and his lips over every part of me he can reach while he slowly rocks into me, stealing the breath from my lungs and my heart from my chest with how gentle he’s being. Like I’m the most precious thing in the world, and he knows this is exactly what I need right now. And like he knows it’s exactly what will tip me over the edge from being in the process of falling for him, to being full-blown, out-of-my-mind in love with him.
Dean grabs my hands from behind his back, lacing our fingers together as he pushes my arms over my head and pins them to the bed, pushing into me deeper, grinding against me harder, and kissing all my worries away. I give him everything I have in this bed, and I tell him everything I can’t say with my body and my heart while we move together, hoping it’s enough, and hoping he can feel it and hear it.
As much as I want this moment to last, it’s impossible to stop an orgasm from happening when Dean is pulling it out of me so perfectly with every move he makes. He follows quickly behind, shuddering against me and groaning into my mouth while I refuse to pull my lips away from his through his release.
When we’re finished, Dean slides out of bed and heads to my bathroom while I lay here staring up at my ceiling and trying to catch my breath. I’m suddenly so physically dead-tired after being on my feet all day that I can’t even move a muscle, and my eyes drift closed when I hear water running in the bathroom and then the click of the door opening back up a few minutes later.
“Do you need anything?”
I shake my head at his question, opening my eyes just in time to watch him turn off my hallway light. He flips the switch that turns on my ceiling fan, then moves around the room, turning on the other two fans. He slides into bed with me when he’s finished and pulls the sheet up over us before leaning over me and giving me a kiss. Sliding his arms around me, his mouth leaves mine as he rolls over onto his back, pulling me right along with him until I’m sprawled over his chest.
With his fingertips tracing up and down my spine, my head resting right under his chin, I fall asleep within seconds with a smile on my face to the sound of his heart beating against my ear and the breeze of my fans keeping me cool. I sleep more soundly than I ever have in my life, dreaming of hearts and rainbows and happily ever afters.
Until I wake up the next morning in an empty bed, inside an empty home, with no shoes sitting next to mine by the front door, and I realize I should have spoken louder.
Chapter 23
Laura
“Don’t be dumb. It’s giving me heartburn.”
“Who pissed in your coffee this morning?”
Looking up from the coffee mug in my hand that I haven’t even taken one sip out of yet since I sat down on the steps of my back deck an hour ago, I just blink at my seventy-year-old neighbor Murphy standing in the sand in front of me. Taking a sip out of his own mug he brought over here with him, he waves his other hand at me, and I scoot over on the step to make room for him. He sits down next to me with a groan, complaining about his bad knees and his bad back, just like he does every time he comes over and joins me.
We’ve spent a thousand mornings like this ever since the day he moved in next door, when Birdie was six and Wren was ten, and he came over to yell at me that they were making too much noise playing in the front yard. Murphy was the grumpy neighborhood curmudgeon who hoarded all the balls the kids on this street kicked into his yard, yelled at people to get off his lawn, and he hated everyone equally—men, women, and children alike. Technically, he’s still like that. But he had a soft spot for me and the girls from day one, and he was always a little less grumpy with us. He was also always making chauvinistic comments that would make me laugh before making me argue with him, about how it wasn’t right a woman was all alone raising her girls without a man to help. And he always joins me for coffee when he sees me sitting out here in the mornings, watching for dolphins out on the water as the sun comes up.
He’s like the grandfather the girls never had, and the father I wish I did. As irritable as Murphy can be, he will drop everything if we need something. He’ll walk away from the middle of a poker game if someone needs to be picked up from the ferry dock. He’ll skip his afternoon nap to threaten someone’s life if they hurt us. And he’ll never sugarcoat things when you need advice. Which makes me equally happy and dreading it at the same time that he’s joining me here this morning.
“You gonna answer me, or are you just gonna sit there pouting all day, until a bird flies over and shits on your lip?”
Even though I’ve felt completely numb since I woke up alone and went through the motions of making coffee without even paying attention to what I was doing, Murphy’s words never fail to make me crack a smile whenever he talks to me like a child.
“Kinda thought pouting all day sounded good.” I shrug, finally taking a sip of my coffee and then tossing it right out into the sand with a wince when it’s ice-cold and disgusting.
“You know Birdie will be back in two weeks. For shit’s sake, she hasn’t left the island for good.” Murphy grumbles to himself about women being fragile and always crying over everything, before taking another sip of his coffee. I don’t even have the energy to argue with him like I usually do about his old-school comments.
And I haven’t even had time to be sad that Birdie has already left for her honeymoon, and I had to say my goodbyes to her and Palmer last night before we left the reception. They stayed in the honeymoon suite at the Summersweet Island Hotel, getting the first ferry off the island at 5:00 a.m., so they could get to the airport and make their early-morning flight to Bali.
Right around the time I rolled over in bed and realized I was alone.
“I know Birdie will be back before I even know it. That’s not the problem.” I pause for a minute, staring out at the ocean with the sun just starting to peek above the horizon, blanketing everything in a soft, hazy light. It’s my absolute favorite time of the day, when the beach has been freshly combed, the neat lines through the sand haven’t been disturbed by people just yet, and all you can hear is the crashing of the waves to the shore and the cry of seagulls as they dive into the water to catch their breakfast.
But now, everything feels tainted, and nothing feels good, even my favorite view.
“I think I fucked up,” I finally whisper, blinking the tears away as I stare out at the water.
I haven’t shed any yet since I woke up and Dean was gone, and I’m not about to now. I know as soon as I start that I’ll never stop.
“I’m assuming it’s with the guy who broke into your house that you’ve been playing kissy-face with?”
I roll my eyes and sigh.
“Do you know when it’s too late to fix something you fucked up?” he continues, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, holding his coffee cup between them. “When someone keels over and dies.”
