I paused, looking down as I swallowed the lump in my throat. Even just alluding to the sexual harassment was daunting enough. Imagining ever bringing up the topic with my father was terrifying. What if he didn’t believe me? I already knew my mother wouldn’t. She viewed James as a close friend.
“Maybe. Eventually?” My voice caught. “Probably not.”
Dean moved along the front of the desk, passing the hallway entrance, unbothered if anyone saw him until he stepped into the area that was mine and Candice’s little office. I turned on the spot as I followed his movements, my heart skipping as he stopped in front of me. He gently took my hands in his, caressing his thumbs lightly over the backs of them. His eyes, finding mine again, flickered slightly with what looked like pain.
“I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you again,” he said softly.
My chest swelled with an emotion I had never felt before. A mixture of hope, sadness, happiness, and something else that left me feeling giddy when he tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. No one had ever looked out for me this way. It was overwhelming but equally welcoming. Even Kira didn’t know of my darkest secrets and fears — neither did Dean, but I felt I could share each one with him and he wouldn’t judge me for any of them.
I might have been getting a little ahead of myself.
Mom's voice, calling my name from down the hall as she approached the foyer, made me pull back. Aware that it was too late for Dean to step out from behind the desk, where he would run the risk of passing the hallway again and being spotted by Mom, I grabbed the front of his T-shirt and dragged him towards the cleaning closet behind the front office.
Pushing him backward into the small space, I followed him in while he reached under my arm to close the door, shutting us in the dark.
The vent in the door was our only source of light and cast lines across his slightly amused face. I had severely underestimated how much space was in this closet.
He half smiled. “This is cozy—"
My hand shot up to cover his mouth as Candice and Mom stopped outside the door. Their backs to us as they wondered where I was.
“She must’ve left to collect lunch orders,” Mom pondered before changing the subject to discussing James’s sudden resignation.
I had stopped listening though.
After peering over my shoulder to see through the vents in the door, I brought my attention back to Dean. His face was only inches above my own as he ducked his head to fit in the tiny space. His broad shoulders pressed against the walls.
I slowly lowered my hand from his mouth as my heart began to beat a little faster. I wouldn’t be surprised if Dean could feel it too. Allowing myself to give in to temptation, I traced my finger across his bottom lip before his mouth parted.
I could vaguely hear the two women just outside the door fussing over how much paperwork they had to sort through, now that James was gone. A few days ago, I would’ve excused myself to go help. I knew where everything was stored and what it was all filed away under.
But now?
Dean gently wrapped his hand around my wrist, lowering my hand to his chest as he smiled softly and whispered, “I think we need to talk.”
His heart thumped steadily beneath my hand.
“About?” I whispered, knowing exactly what he meant as his eyes kept falling to my mouth.
“The thing that happened on the penthouse roof.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yeah, that.”
“Well?” I raised my eyebrows, tilting my head a little.
“I mean, I thought it was great and was wonderin’ if we could try it again sometime.”
My legs might’ve given out if I wasn’t pushed against him.
“I guess we could.” I fought the urge to smile, nodding instead with consideration. “How many times did you plan on doing it again?”
He smirked as his eyes dilated in understanding before he lowered his face, his lips just a hairsbreadth from mine. “As many times as you’d let me.”
He was giving me the choice.
I bit my lip and rose on my toes, tilting my head back just enough to kiss him softly. He returned it, matching the softness but claiming my mouth. It sent a rush through my body and a fog to my brain. All I could think of was what his mouth was doing and where his hands came to my hips, kneading gently.
