Chapter 19
Liv
His hands werein my hair, his body pressing my back against the inside door of his Jeep—his lips moving softly over mine. The drive home was erratic; he pulled over no less than three times to capture my lips in a kiss or run his hands across my face and neck.
I could barely catch my breath. When we finally arrived at his house, he parked behind Brooke’s car in the driveway—and the windows had steamed up and the icy air was seeping in—but that wasn’t what was making me tremble. It was Dean’s warm hands on my skin and the way his lips and eyes seemed to worship all the parts of me he could get to under the heat of my coat that made me quake.
It was hard to clear my head, to find a way to tell him to stop just for a moment.
His elbow hit into the center console with a loud thud—yet he didn’t notice. “Wait. Dean, hold on.” My voice was shaky and weak.
He instantly froze, breathing heavily against the curve of my neck. “Inside?” he whispered. I could feel his smile as he laid a soft kiss against the hollow of my throat.
“God, yes,” I breathed in a heavy exhale.
Dean pulled himself back into the driver’s seat and looked at me with smoldering eyes. “Okay, but hold on and let me come around to help you out.”
Butterflies swarmed deep in my stomach as I watched him climb out of the car and run through the snow to my door. I tugged down on my hat as his opened it. Fresh falling ice and snow covered his hair and eyelashes, and I giggled up at him through the spiraling flakes that stormed into the car. Before I could even lift my foot to step down, Dean reached in and scooped me up into his arms. I yelped out a scream, and he just laughed, kicking the car door closed with his foot.
He carried me over the building snowdrifts toward the path of the house that led to the front porch. Patches of melted snow and rock salt littered the pathway. Dean’s boots scraped over the pellets and crunched along the slippery ground. I prayed he wouldn’t lose his footing; we would end up flat on our behinds putting a hamper on our plans for the night.
He lowered me to my feet when we reached the door and fumbled with the cold keys to unlock it. I knew they were cold from the curses he mumbled just under his breath. Then, a much-appreciated fiery blaze of warm cozy air hit me hard as soon as I stepped inside.
Boots and coats got torn off and hung to dry haphazardly in the entryway as we tried desperately to stay quiet. He covered a finger over his lips and gestured toward Brooke’s apartment door. From somewhere behind it, a deep voice was speaking. Then, Brooke’s laughter rang out after.
Maybe that was her secret guy? Maybe they were talking everything through, mending whatever their differences were and fixing the relationship. I hoped it went well for her; she deserved to have love in her life.
As we both tiptoed to the foot of the stairs, the coat rack, burdened heavily with our wet outerwear slammed nosily to the floor. It sent a crash of thunder through the house.
We collapsed into a fit of giggles on the first step, and Brooke’s face was immediately peeking out of a narrow opening in her doorway. “Everything okay?” she asked, peering out. Her apartment looked dark behind her and all I could make out were the dark shadows of her hair and one eye.
“Yeah, sorry. Uh…Liv is just going to stay with me tonight,” he said, winking at me.
“Okay,” Brooke whispered from behind the door. She didn’t sound as happy as I thought she would, and I stood up to try to see her better. “I have someone here, anyway,” she continued low and quick. “I’ll talk to you later.” Then, quite unexpectedly, she shut the door with a quick harsh smack.
“That’s got to be that guy she’s been getting flowers from,” I said, looking back at Dean. I wondered why she closed the door the way she did. It didn’t seem like they’d been fighting. We had just heard her laughter. I toyed with the idea of knocking on her door and letting myself in.
“Yeah, I guess,” he said, reaching for my hand and gently pulling me back toward the steps. His eyes looked deeply and longingly into mine. “Do you still want to come upstairs with me?” And just like that I forgot about knocking on her door.
I nodded earnestly, keeping my eyes on his. It was overwhelming, the feeling I had, standing there with him for that one significant moment. Both of us watching each other, waiting, knowing exactly what was going to happen as soon as we reached the last step.
We flew up the stairs like two sex-starved teenagers, slamming his apartment door behind us.
And then we were alone—in his bedroom—with only the small lamp next to his bed on, casting a soft orange glow over us. I didn’t even register our surroundings, they were blurry and insignificant, all I saw was him.
“I’ve never wanted someone so much before,” he whispered, reaching over and gently touching his finger to my chin. He stepped closer, and heat rushed over my body. A small gasp escaped on my breath, and his lips tugged up into a smile. The buttons of my shirt opened somehow—I didn’t know if it was him or me—all I was aware of was the heat of his eyes on mine and the cool air whispering across my skin. My shirt slipped down, melting into a small puddle on the floor. Fingers danced delicately over the strap of my bra, just over my collarbone, yet he didn’t pull it over the curve of my shoulder, like I thought he would. Instead, he softly trailed his fingers along the outside of the bra, tracing the swell of my breasts, up and over them, exploring the dip of my navel and the waistband of my pants.
I watched him as his gaze poured over my body. There was a fire to his eyes that was almost indescribable. The way he looked at me and watched as his fingertips traveled over my body was the most sensual, most erotic and arousing sensation I had ever felt. He was barely touching me and yet my skin was so awakened by his caresses that I struggled to control my breathing.
I grabbed for the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head, dropping it to the floor. His body was magnificent. Thick, broad shoulders. Smooth, hard chest. And a stomach full of tight, flat, rippled muscles. I giggled out loud.
“Is that a good laugh?” he asked with a wicked smirk.
I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth and blushed deeply. “It’s a laugh that roughly translates toHoly shit, he’s perfect.”
“No way,” he whispered. “Perfection is what’s right in front of me.”
My cheeks burned hotter.
