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“There you go, doubting yourself again,” he says. “It just so happens I want all of that too, I just don’t have that crystal clear imagination that you do. For all the time I spend with my head in fantasy books and games, imagining wild scenarios with nefarious villains and noble paladins and badass knife-wielding rogues, I never spent a moment in the past five years letting myself fantasize about real life.”
I inhale a shaky breath. “It’s a lot to think about.”
“Not for me. I want in on that dream of yours.”
Is he serious? He can’t be. But I’m willing to live in the moment. No, I need to live in the moment because soon, I’ll have to face the music.
I’d rather live today in Dean’s fantasy than spend another moment dreading tomorrow.
“Let’s dream big, then,” I say, throwing caution to the wind. “Why not?”
Dean tackles me backward against the mattress, searing me with a heated, hungry kiss. It’s deep and slow, dredging up all the ache inside that I didn’t know I had. Not just for him, in this wildly fast physical connection, but the ache to start a whole new life. To finally grow up and own my feelings and stand up for what I want.
The need to live authentically.
“Dean,” I rasp, “I want you.”
“I’m so damn happy you feel that way, baby.”
I feel him everywhere when he calls me baby.
I itch to be rid of my bra, and I shift uncomfortably underneath him. I regret pushing his kiss away long enough to reach back and fumble with my clasp.
“Let me,” Dean says, sending his hand back to reach for the hook.
I laugh, “No thanks. I’ve seen how you try to tear the bras off helpless mannequins.”
He lowers his head against my sternum and groans. That low voice rumbles against my chest as I pop the clasp free. “I’m never living down the mannequin molester thing, am I?”
“Not for as long as I’m around,” I say.
It’s a throwaway comment. It really is.
But Dean does not take it that way. He fists my bra and gently tugs. I let the straps slide down my arms and watch him toss the bra aside. Through all of this, his eyes stay on mine.
“I’ll have you know, I blocked that number the second I saw you lurking outside my store.”
I know what he means without him having to say her name.
And lurking? I wasn’t lurking. Do I want to take issue with that, though? Or do I want to revel in my inflated ego for the moment? Me? I made some strange man block his annoying ex’s phone number? Yeah, I did that. I believe it.
“Good,” I say, lifting my chin.
Dean has been so careful to keep his eyes upward, but now he finally takes in more of me. My bare breasts, my stomach, all the bits of me that I keep hidden.
“God you’re beautiful.”
He leans in and kisses me again, so softly and teasingly I make a mess of my panties.
“God, you really know how to make a woman beg for more,” I whine, arching upward, wishing he would let that restraint snap and fuck me. I have a feeling he can fuck hard and for along time, and I can’t want to squeeze that perfectly rounded ass of his while he does it.
Dean drags his mouth down my throat, nipping softly with his teeth. It feels so good and yet not enough that I want to scream.
8
Dean
My Dakota shivers as I cup one perky breast in my oversized hand.
