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What if she was beginning to like him, as in, really like him? Was that even possible, so close to being engaged to another man and having her heart stomped all over?
“What do you think?” His attention shifted over her face, suggesting the vulnerability in his question, like her answer truly meant something to him.
“I don’t know.” She frowned, pausing to gnaw on her lower lip. “I don’t trust anything I feel anymore.”
His gaze landed on her chin, and he gave a small nod. He read the subtext in her statement, that she’d trusted her feelings before only to find she’d been wrong.
Equal parts of her were happy and sad. Despite his tough exterior, Dean wasn’t the knuckle-dragging Neanderthal that she’d first assumed. He understood her, at least to some extent, but that understanding further exposed her limitations.
But she was human after all, and like any human, solitude came with drawbacks. And because of her humanity, she also didn’t want Dean to believe he was just her rebound guy, which was why she undertook her next move—a move with the extra benefit of pulling her away from having to overthink her connection to this man.
“But if it makes any difference—” She launched herself at him, and he released a surprised hmph sound.
She unleashed a fevered kiss on him, and before long, his hands swept her body, and she tugged at his clothes. Through all that followed next, the same disingenuous chant tumbled over and over in her mind. “We’re just friends. We’re just friends.”
