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She sighed and leaned into him as she spoke in a whispered voice. “I’m happy for them. And sad for myself, because I want what they have. And it doesn’t seem to matter how hard I try, or where I look, I haven’t found someone who just wants me for me. I’m never enough.”
And there went that clench inside his chest again. He dipped his head and brushed his lips against her ear. “You are enough, sweetheart. And the man who’ll see that, who’ll see how awesome you are, he’s out there. You’ll find him.”
She looked up at him, unshed tears clinging to her eyelashes, and held his gaze for a long moment. Something shifted in the air between them, a tension, a longing, but she looked away, and it was gone.
He didn’t want to take back the time they’d had together, but at the same time, he knew he had to start untangling the confusing knot of his emotions when it came to Carly, so they could transition back to what they’d had before. But he couldn’t seem to find the right string to pull, because every time he tugged, that knot only got tighter.
He shoved it all away, concentrating on enjoying the wedding, on enjoying the time he had left with Carly before things went back to normal. He knew they had to. He couldn’t give her what she wanted. What she deserved. It would be so selfish to even try. He didn’t know how to be someone’s forever man. All he knew how to do was have fun and bail when things got real.
Christie and Luke kissed, everyone cheered, and the newlyweds wandered off down the beach for pictures. Beside the gazebo, several small round tables had been set up, along with a bar and a long table where resort staff were currently putting out food. The white table cloths fluttered in the breeze, and as the sun sank lower in the sky, strings of fairy lights wrapped around the towering palms flickered to life, glowing softly in the fading daylight. Upbeat pop music began playing from a portable sound system, signaling the official start of the party.
Dean had honestly never thought about his wedding given that he didn’t see himself ever getting married, but he had to admit that getting married on the beach, at sunset, with the lights, and flowers, and shit . . . yeah, it was pretty romantic, in a terrifying kind of way.
Carly rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “You okay? You’re a million miles away.”
“Yeah. Sorry. Just, you know. Taking it all in.” He flashed her a smile. She smiled back, her expression open and real. Happy, and beautiful, the skirt of her peach-colored dress flowing around her legs. The turquoise necklace he’d bought her hung around her delicate neck.
So goddamn beautiful, inside and out. So sweet, so alive, so gorgeously responsive and fun in bed. So many things he had no right to want.
“It was a nice ceremony,” she said, picking up a couple of hors d’oeuvres from a nearby platter. She popped one in her mouth and then sucked in a breath, fanning her mouth. “Ooh. Hot. Sorry,” she mumbled, and then sucked in another breath.
“It was,” he said, trying not to laugh at how adorable she was. He took a couple of hors d’oeuvres for himself, and they mingled with the other guests while waiting for Luke and Christie to return. When they did, another round of applause rose up, and dinner was served. The music played, the champagne flowed, and the sky darkened from a vibrant blue to a dusky purple, and then to a deep indigo, verging on black.
After the toasts, and the food, and the champagne, Dean pulled Carly onto the makeshift dance floor, which was nothing but a dozen interlocking black-and-white rubber mats laid on the sand.
She bent her elbows and raised her forearms, swishing them back and forth in time to the music. “Look, Dean. The Windshield Wiper.” She shot him an open-mouthed smile, bopping her head as she danced.
“Oh, yeah? Check this out,” he said, bending one arm and putting his hand behind his head, then jerking that arm back and forth in time with the music. “The Sprinkler!”
She laughed, snorting a little. “Yeah, but some sprinklers go like this,” she said, and waved her arms up and down.
“And some sprinklers go like this!” He lunged for her, hands on her waist as he hoisted her over his shoulder. She shrieked with laughter as he spun her. Her scent drifted around him, filling his lungs, while her laughter filled his ears.
And maybe his heart.
He set her down just as the music changed from Bruno Mars to a much slower Adele song. Without taking his hands off of her, he pulled her into his arms, swaying with her to the slow tempo of the music, their bodies aligned.
Her arms around his neck, she slid her fingers through the hair at his nape. “Do you think you’ll ever get married?” she asked suddenly, peering up at him, all the humor gone from her face.
His stomach bottomed out, but he made himself answer. “I don’t know. Probably not.”
“Why not?”
He opened and closed his mouth, her follow-up question surprising him. He thought for several moments. Normally, he hated these kinds of conversations. But he found himself wanting to tell her the truth. “When my mom died, something shifted in me, Carly. Something broke, and it stayed broken. It’s been broken for so long that I don’t even know how to fix it, or if I can. I can’t open up with someone and be real. It’s too much for me.”
She was quiet for the rest of the song, still swaying in his arms, and then looked up at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “I have news for you, Dean. You’ve been doing that with me all week, and guess what? You’re still standing.”
Holy fuck. Fear shot through his veins like lightning, but along with the fear was something else. Something bigger and stronger, and all he knew was that he needed to be inside her. Now.
* * *
Carly sucked in a surprised breath as Dean grabbed her hand and tugged her through the wedding reception, cutting a swath through the guests. She didn’t say anything, just let him lead her back toward their building, her heart pounding in her chest. It felt too big for her body, filled with happiness for Luke and Christie, hope for herself. Filled with Dean, which she knew was dangerous and stupid given his baggage and his history, but she couldn’t help it. Over the past few days, she’d started to fall for him, and trying to change that, to stop the fall, would be like trying to put toothpaste back into the tube. Completely impossible. Utterly hopeless.
They reached their hotel room, and he backed her up against the door, caging her in. Emotions flickered across his face, his eyes dark, intense. “Carly,” he whispered. Then he crushed his mouth to hers.
She whimpered against him as his tongue caressed hers, and there was something different about his kiss this time. It was rougher, more demanding than the way he’d kissed her before. As though he were trying to claim her, to brand her with his mouth.
As though she meant something to him. Something real.
