Chapter Seventeen
EMERY SPENT WEDNESDAY evening hanging out with Desiree in Provincetown. She needed a little girl time, and it was a good distraction to keep from running back over to Dean’s house and crawling into his bed. She hadn’t even spent one night alone yet, and already she missed him. When she’d visited over Christmas, the inn had felt homey, and it had been easy to see herself there. Now, at a little after midnight, as she closed her bedroom door, leaving the expansive emptiness on the other side of it, everything felt different. Over Christmas, the big Victorian had been bustling with their friends. She’d been by Dean’s side even then, sharing his drinks and dinners, laughing and joking.
Flirting.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her still-packed suitcases and thinking about how they’d gone from shamelessly flirting to falling for each other. She ran her finger over the bracelet he’d given her, missing everything about him. His laugh, that serious expression that would suddenly flash so hot her heart would stutter. God, she even missed the way he touched her when he walked by, and the scratch of his beard on her cheek when they kissed. Lord, she missed that. But she’d made the right decision to follow up with her plans and move into the inn. For once in her life, she was thinking things through.
And it sucked.
She fidgeted with the edge of her sundress, wondering if Dean was asleep yet. Were Tango and Cash curled up in her spot beside him? Or was Dean lying awake wondering what she was doing? They’d texted before she’d gone out with Desiree, and he’d told her he missed her already and to have fun.
She did have fun.
They even made plans to start looking at wedding dresses in the fall, even though Desiree and Rick hadn’t picked a date yet.
But now she was done. She’d caught up with her bestie.
Now she was ready for Dean.
She pushed from the bed, stepping around the open suitcases and clothes that were hanging over the sides, and went into the bathroom. She washed her face and brushed her teeth. When she set her toothbrush down on the counter, even that felt lonely without Dean’s right next to it. Geez, she was really losing it. Since when did she even think this way? She pulled off her dress and tossed it in the hamper. She changed into a cami and sleeping shorts and sat on the edge of her bed again, this time holding her phone. Her finger hovered over Dean’s name on her recent call list.
Would he think she was clingy if she called? He’d asked her to stay. Surely he would be happy?
Or sleeping…
Ugh. But she missed him. How could she go to sleep without hearing his voice after having talked with him nearly every night for months on end, and being together every day since she’d come to the Cape?
She couldn’t be expected to go cold turkey.
That would be torture, and Dean would not want her tortured. Of that she was sure.
But maybe he wouldn’t want her at all if she were clingy…
She glanced at the bathroom, and an idea came to light. With her heart dancing to a nervous beat, she called him.
He answered on the first ring. “Hey, doll. Everything okay?”
The sound of his voice sent relief whooshing through her. She flopped onto her back and said, “Yeah, great.” Okay, she lied.
“Did you have fun with Des?”
“Mm-hm. We walked all over P-town, talked, you know. Caught up.”
“Good. And how’s your room?”
Lonely without you. She kept that to herself and said, “It’s fine, except…I was, um, just wondering if you could come check out my sink? It’s…not working right.”
“Your sink? Sure, when?”
“Now?” She closed her eyes, hoping that didn’t make her sound needy.
“Of course.” He made a noise like he was pushing to his feet, and she wondered if he was on the couch or in his bed.
“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“You are never an inconvenience.” His keys jingled. “I’m on my way, doll. Don’t you worry.”
THANK FUCKING GOD. Dean had been lying on his bed looking at what he knew would be a long, sleepless night spent thinking about Emery. He climbed into his truck and sped over to the inn. It was faster than walking, and he needed her in his arms now.
The inn was dark, save for the lights in Emery’s second-floor bedroom. With his toolbox in hand, he took the porch steps two at a time, reminding himself she’d asked him to look at her sink, not sweep her into his arms. The last thing he needed was to scare her off by wanting too much too fast.
He forced himself to slow down, and when he lifted his hand to knock, the door opened before he had a chance to. Emery peered up at him, looking beautiful and sexy in a spaghetti-strap top and silky pajama bottoms.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Hi.” He fought the urge to drop the toolbox and haul her into his arms. Why was he so nervous? He felt like everything was riding on how he handled things right this second. She’d called him for help, not to be carried back home. He didn’t know when that mental transition had happened, but he already considered his house her home—regardless of how few days they’d spent together there. He had the feeling it had started before she’d even moved to the Cape, when coming home at night had meant hearing her voice on the phone or over video chat.
He leaned down and kissed her. She tasted of toothpaste and blessed relief. How could a few hours apart feel like a lifetime?
“Thanks for coming over. My, um, sink is in my room, upstairs.” She glanced at the stairs.
“Okay, let’s take a look.”
He followed her up the stairs. The sway of her hips in those little silky bottoms made his cock twitch with hope. Down, boy.
She pushed open her bedroom door, and his gaze swept over a handful of fancy pillows scattered across the four-poster bed, her open suitcases lying on the floor, a pile of clothes on a chair. The room smelled pretty, like roses, but markedly not like Emery. The bed was too frilly, the furniture too fancy. Everything felt wrong. She belonged with him.
“Can you close the door?” she asked. “I don’t want to wake anyone.”
As he closed the door, he told himself once again not to read too much into it or allow his desires to take over.
“The bathroom’s in here.” She pointed to a door at the far end of the room.
She stepped just inside the bathroom door, and though it was a large bathroom, the space between the antique vanity and where she stood was barely enough for his large frame. He put a hand on her hip as he set the toolbox down, bringing his mouth to breast height. He wanted to slip that slinky top off and run his tongue over her pert nipples, to seal his lips over her breast. He loved the way she got off on him loving her with his mouth. He was hard just thinking about it.
Their eyes connected, and he couldn’t resist cradling her face in his hands and gazing into her eyes. He wanted to say so many things. I miss you. Come home with me. You look beautiful. You belong with me. But he’d already asked her to stay, and he had to respect her need for this time apart if only to prove to her what they had was real.
He pressed his lips to her forehead instead, breathing in her unique and alluring scent. “I’ll always be here when you need me.” Drawing upon his feelings for her, he stepped back. “Let’s get your sink fixed.”
He turned on the faucets and felt the water. They were appropriately hot and cold.
“It seems to be running fine.” He looked under the sink to see if there was a leak, but it was bone dry. When his gaze caught Emery’s in the mirror, she was biting her lower lip, but her smile shone through. And the blush on her cheeks kicked his brain into gear. How could he have been so thickheaded?
“I think I know what’s wrong with your sink,” he said, turning to face her.
“You do?” She blinked up at him, her entrancing hazel eyes all surprise and curiosity, as if she really thought he’d figured something out.
He lifted her onto the sink and wedged himself between her legs, holding her tight against him. Lust brimmed in her eyes, telling him he’d guessed right. “It obviously hasn’t been properly broken in yet.”
As he lowered his mouth to hers, she touched his cheek, and he realized she was stroking his beard, as if she’d missed every inch of him just as much as he’d missed her.
“I missed you, too, doll.” His fingers threaded into her hair, and he kissed her again, deeper, his pent-up desires spilling out. He broke their connection only long enough to whip her top over her head and fill his hand with her breast. She panted and he groaned, then sucked her nipple into his mouth.
She gasped with pleasure, arching into him and pushing up at his shirt at the same time. “I think my mattress might need to be inspected, too.”
He chuckled and crashed his mouth to hers. He lifted her into his arms, pushing his fingers beneath her flimsy bottoms, touching her slick heat as he carried her into the bedroom. “Fuck, baby. I swear I like you for more than sex.” He laid her on the bed and came down over her. “I know you need to make sure we’ve thought this through, and I’m not pushing, but you need to know. I want you with me. Always.”
“I want to—”
He silenced her with a long, sensual kiss, and when she made one of those little murmurs he loved so much, he kissed her longer. When their lips finally parted, her eyelids were heavy, eyes dark and alluring.
“Don’t say a word, doll,” he whispered, refusing to push her. “I feel how much you care for me in your kisses. I see it in your eyes. When the time is right, we’ll both know.”
“Stay with me tonight?” she asked breathlessly.
“It would take an army to drag me from your bed.”