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God, he wanted to believe that.
Chapter 7
Carly rubbed a towel over her hair, a huge grin on her face. Her entire body hummed, her limbs heavy, the fire low in her belly sated.
For now.
A part of her had wondered if having sex with Dean was simply an itch she needed to scratch, something she needed to get out of her system. But now, after, she knew that wasn’t true. Once wouldn’t be enough. Not by a long shot.
Dean emerged from the bathroom behind her, a white towel knotted low around his hips. Her stomach dipped and swirled because now she knew exactly what was under that towel. God, the sight of him touching himself, his hand stroking his long, thick cock, had almost made her spontaneously combust. The fact that he’d admitted to thinking about her while doing it?
It was a miracle she was still alive.
He brushed past her on his way to his suitcase, shooting her a tight smile. Not saying anything. The muscles across his back were bunched with tension—far too much tension for someone who’d just had fantastic sex. And she had no doubt that it had been as good for him as it had been for her.
She crossed the room and slipped her arms around him from behind, kissing the warm skin of his back. He went very still, and after a moment, he turned to face her. Emotions chased each other across his face, and she knew he was on the verge of freaking out. Of telling her that it had been a mistake, that it shouldn’t have happened, that it couldn’t happen again.
Her mind flashed back to the conversation they’d had their first night here. He hadn’t admitted to being scared of commitment, scared of hurting someone, scared of getting hurt, but he hadn’t denied it either. She wasn’t sure what was happening between them, only knew that it had definite potential to be . . . something. And although it was risky, she wanted to explore that potential. If they could get past the awkward transition from friends to something more, if Dean could work through some of the crap holding him back . . . it could be really good. She already knew they had lots in common, got along great, made each other laugh, and had fun together.
And, as it turned out, they were very sexually compatible.
But she knew she’d have to tread carefully. They wouldn’t be able to explore anything at all if he ran for fear of hurting her. She’d have to ease him into it, while showing him what they could have if they took a chance.
“Thank you,” she said, slipping her arms around his waist and kissing his chest.
“Um. Sure. You’re welcome.” There was a tightness to his voice, and she looked up, catching his gaze.
“You look like you’re about to hyperventilate. Should I get you a paper bag?”
He shook his head and stepped away from her. “No, I just . . . shit.” He ran a hand through his hair, sending droplets of water cascading down his gorgeous chest. “I’m just not sure that should’ve happened.”
She smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed, adjusting her towel. “I don’t regret it. We both wanted it, and we’re both adults.”
He sank down onto the bed beside her, his forearms braced on his thighs. “Mmm.”
“Hey,” she said, laying a hand on his arm. He looked at her, his warring emotions playing out in his blue eyes. Confusion, and guilt, and lust, all there, plain as day. “It wouldn’t have happened if we both didn’t want it. I’m not asking you for anything, Dean. I know you’re working through some shit right now, and that’s okay. But that doesn’t mean that this,” she said, gesturing between them, “is a bad thing. So why don’t we just enjoy the rest of our time here? No regrets. No promises. Just us, having fun.”
He sighed, but some of the darkness in his eyes lightened. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend, Car. And I don’t want you to think—”
“You won’t lose me as a friend. And I’m not thinking anything.” A flicker of guilt rose up in her chest, because that wasn’t entirely true. But he needed training wheels, and she was willing to be patient with him. “Except maybe about round two.”
At that, the tension seemed to melt away, replaced with relief, happiness, and a wolfish hunger. He leaned forward and kissed her, soft and slow. “No regrets. No promises. Just fun.”
He eased her back on the bed, tossed her towel aside, and proceeded to fulfill her wish for round two.
The next evening, Dean strode up to the bar in the small, beach-side restaurant where the rehearsal dinner was taking place, feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks. Maybe even months.
If he’d known Carly Jensen was such a damn firecracker in bed, he’d probably have asked her out when they’d first met. But then she wouldn’t be working for him still, and they wouldn’t be friends. And the thought of not having her in his life . . . yeah, it plain sucked.
But he wasn’t going to think about that. He was going to live in the moment and focus on enjoying his vacation and all the unexpected perks that came with it. Like having mind-blowing sex with Carly.
Suffice it to say, the pillow wall had been demolished.
“Two margaritas, please,” he said when the bartender nodded at him. Matt walked up to the bar, leaning his forearms on the shiny granite surface. He shot Dean a sidelong glance. A homicide detective in Seattle, Matt had a way of looking at a person that made him or her squirm. Even though he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, he felt the weight of his cousin’s gaze on him.
“So. You and Carly, huh?” he asked, taking a sip of the beer the bartender had just placed in front of him.
“Yep.”
