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“Taylor, wait.” Dean’s clomping steps thudded behind me, but I didn’t stop. He caught up to me right outside the door. “Wait a sec.”
“For what? Seth just caught us. I’m not going to stand there and be interrogated about it.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. He’s not going to interrogate us.”
I threw my hand out to the office building. “He could tell someone.”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?”
Dean folded his arms. “Because I’ll talk to him.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I don’t trust him, and I don’t like him knowing what’s going on between you and me.”
“While we’re on the subject, what is going on between us?”
I puffed up my cheeks, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep warm. “I’m not sure.”
He tugged at his earlobe. “But there issomething?”
It was a long while before I was able to drag my gaze over to his and nod. His shoulders rose and fell on a deep inhale, a hint of a smile barely there and then gone again. He laid a swift kiss on my cheek. “Talk to you later.”
I pivoted around at the movement behind Dean and hightailed it to my car, though Seth’s voice carried on the wind to me.
“Dude, what the fuck are you doing with her?”
I didn’t hear Dean’s low response, but the venom in Seth’s question had my eyes stinging.
I slammed my car door shut and sped off, refusing to give in to the voice added to the chorus that had followed me my whole life. The one that told me to smile more, not to be so aggressive, to be nicer, to be smart, but not too smart, though as a woman, sometimes I’d never be smart enough. I knew what Seth thought of me. The same as a lot of men. And I feared whatever stupid fucking opinion he had of me would somehow affect what Dean thought of me.
And that was a hard pill to swallow.
Back at my apartment, I needed two trips to carry all my bags up, and I spent a few hours doing laundry and cleaning up. I hadn’t expected a knock at my door and was even more surprised at Dean leaning against the doorway, freshly showered, according to his wet hair and the scent of his soap.
“What are you doing here?”
From behind him, he revealed a backpack. “Came for a sleepover.”
I gestured him in then locked the door. “I thought you didn’t like my pillows.”
He let his backpack drop to the floor and eased his hands around my waist, kissing my neck. “But I do like you.”
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, burying my face against his throat. “What did Seth say?”
“Not much.”
“Besides ‘what the fuck are you doing with her?’”
He smoothed one hand up my spine to cup the back of my head, urging me to meet his eyes. “Why do you sound so offended?”
“Because I know what he thinks about me, and I know he’s your friend.”
“Friend is a generous term, and I don’t give a shit what he thinks about you.”
“He thinks I’m a bitch.”
“You are a bitch.” When I forced out an incredulous laugh, he smirked and pushed me up against the wall. “And you’re mine.” He sucked on my throat, palming my breast. “You’re brilliant and beautiful and don’t take shit from anybody, so I don’t know why you’re worried about what Seth Blaine has to say. You could eat him for breakfast. But…” He lifted his head, his eyes shifting between mine. “I told him in no uncertain terms before, and I reminded him again today, that if he has a problem with you, he has a problem with me.”
