Ah, hell. She was crying. And Dean was in trouble because he knew he wasn’t going to be able to ignore it.
He shouldn’t have left her alone. He’d given her time to think and let it catch up to her. Julien had been a douche bag, but he hadn’t deserved to die.
She was still turned away from him, but Dean rolled onto his side, leaned over, and reached out to wipe a tear from her cheek with his thumb. Christ, her skin was as soft as a baby’s.
Her face nuzzled into his hand at the touch, and his heart took a big, hard thump. “It’ll be all right, sweetheart.”
Shit? Where the fuck had that come from? He didn’t use endearments. Ever.
She turned to him in the darkness. He could see the damp sheen of her eyes reflecting back at him. “No, it won’t. They’re dead.” Her voice broke. “Dead. They didn’t deserve that.”
He caressed her cheek again with his thumb. He’d never felt anything so soft. Something clenched tight in his chest. “No, they didn’t.”
“It’s my fault.”
“How do you figure that?”
“If I hadn’t found—”
He stopped her right there. “If you hadn’t found that, a lot of innocent people might be dead—including me and you. You aren’t to blame for what happened, Annie.” His tone left her no room to argue. “All right?”
He could feel her eyes on his face as she nodded.
“Good. Then let’s get some rest.”
“I’m trying.”
Dean debated for all of a split second before doing the one thing he’d told himself he wasn’t going to do. He stood up, pushed the mattresses back together, and pulled her against him.
She might have been a child lying here with her cheek on his shoulder, and her palm lying flat on his chest.
But she wasn’t. She felt incredible. As if she belonged there. All soft and firm in the right places. The skin-to-skin contact took his attraction to an entirely different level, flooding him with all kinds of impulses.
But he pushed aside his own demons and gave her what she needed—comfort. He held her in his arms, stroking her head gently, until they both fell asleep.
Which was fine until morning came.
•••
Annie woke slowly from a deep, deep sleep. The dreamy fog took a while to dissipate. She was so warm and comfortable, it was almost as if she didn’t want to let it go.
Instinctively she snuggled deeper into the body that was holding her from behind.
She sighed, knowing exactly who it was.
God, he felt good. His chest was like a wall of warm steel at her back, and his legs and arms were like a muscular fortress wrapped around her. She felt safe and protected and... hot.
Very, very hot. And very, very turned on. Especially when she realized he was awake and hard.
Awareness shot through her like a lightning bolt. The sensation of that big, powerful body behind her—and the sizable column pressing against her bottom—set off all kinds ofprimitive instincts that she didn’t even know she had. The most demanding being hunger. Although that didn’t really cover the overwhelming desire she was feeling.
Last night she’d needed comfort, but this morning she needed something else. She needed him inside her. Now.
Rocking back against him, her body told him exactly that. It practically screamedFuck me.
He answered with a groan and a slow, purposeful caress of those big callused hands down her waist and hips as his mouth sank against the warm skin at the nape of her neck.
His kiss electrified her, her skin tingling and tightening. Everything seemed to jump to light speed. There was no hesitation. No thinking to slow them down. It was the continuation of a dream from which neither of them wanted to wake.
