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It’s easy with a one-night stand.

I come and I go. I smirk at the thought.

But he’s not a one-night stand. He’s not one of the guys I’d go pick up at the back of O’Malley’s. A man whose face I’d never see again. I’ve had my share. I’ve wasted so many nights waiting to be taken back to a shitty motel or fucked against the side of a car.

I loved each and every one. I craved it.

But I always knew I could leave them behind me and walk away like nothing had happened.

Dean will be right in my way after tonight. I can’t get away from him. I can’t say goodbye and never see him again. And I let it happen.

I should have known better than to have Dean come here. It’s a rule, never at my place. I don’t break my rules. Never. My teeth grind as I remember my slipup. Well, two of them. I didn’t even make him wear a rubber. The thought should anger me, but instead it makes me feel deliciously dirty. I let myself get carried away. I should have thought it out more. I shouldn’t be so damn reckless.

The bathroom light switches off and he appears in all his glory in the doorway. Stark naked with chiseled abs and his thick cock still at half-mast.

I can see why he’s so fucking conceited now.

He lazily scratches the back of his head as he stalks toward me, not at all trying to cover up any part of his body. I’ve slipped my shorts back on already and I’m pulling up a bra strap when he asks, “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” I answer him with a side-eye and bend down to pick up my shirt. Which is torn beyond any hope of repair. The memory makes my pussy clench and the sweet ache only makes me want Dean more. “Well I guess this is trash now,” I mutter although it comes out playful and flirtatious more than anything else.

I can feel how my body reacts to his. It’s innate. It’s clear from the way I peek at him through my lashes, the way the heat creeps up into my cheeks and even my breathing is attuned to his.

Like prey to a hunter … or vice versa.

With him it’s dangerous because I desperately want to be the prey.

His face scrunches in sympathy. “Sorry about that,” he says, taking the shirt from my hands and letting his strong fingers brush against mine. They’re rough to the touch and send sparks of want through me, even as the soreness between my thighs intensifies by the second. Dean’s damn good at what he does. I’ll give him that.

“You want me to get you a new one?” he asks me.

“Why? So you can rip that one up too?”

“What else am I good for?” he jokes as I shake my head and stare back down at the ruined fabric in my hands.

“I knew you were bad news,” I tell him and again it’s meant as a tease, to come out playfully and add to the banter between us.

“You don’t know my story,” he says and his voice comes out hard. No humor, only defensiveness.

I’m caught off guard as I watch him bend down for his shirt first. Still completely naked, but he reaches for the shirt.

“Really?” I tease him, pretending the tension doesn’t exist. I wait for him to look up at me and that guarded expression still clouds his handsome face. It calls to me differently than before. My fingers itch to touch his jaw. To calm the sadness, but I resist. “Your shirt is what you go for first?” I keep my voice light and he huffs out a breath but lets the smile grow on his face.

“It’s for you,” he tells me as he balls it up and then hands it to me. “Since you’re so hellbent on having me rip another shirt off of you.”

The laughter that erupts from me at his response is genuine, as is the warmth that flows through me.

“It’s been a while since I’ve smiled this hard,” I confess and then bite back the happiness and the honesty in that statement.

“That’s a shame,” Dean says and pulls back the shirt before I can take it. “You’ve got a beautiful smile.” He leaves it hanging there in the air, and I take the bait, reaching out and trying to snatch it from him. A rough chuckle fills the air between us when I miss.

“You want it?” he asks me with a smirk on his face.

Do I want his shirt? I think to myself. I’m in my own damn house. I could go upstairs and put on whatever I want. But do I want his? The one he’s taunting me with? Not to mention the only shirt he has here.

I nod once, feeling my hair tickle my back. The stare between us grows hotter as he takes a half step back, but holds out the shirt. My heart beats faster with each passing second and the tips of my fingers glide against one another as he shakes it, as if to say, “Here, it’s all yours.”

I act as fast as I can, reaching for it and tearing it from him, but it’s in vain.

He let me have it. Without a fight in the least.

The cotton shirt is bunched in my hands as he drops his to his side and scratches his abs.

“Aw, you’re even prettier when you pout,” he mocks me and I roll my eyes, tossing his shirt carelessly behind him.

“You’re no fun,” I tell him, catching my bottom lip between my teeth. He takes a large stride toward me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me against his hard chest before I can blink.

“Allie Cat, all you have to do is tell me you want it,” he says as I gasp and reach both my hands up to his bare chest. My heart races and my blood heats as he lowers his lips to the shell of my ear. “Sometimes it’s fun to take, but we both know how that would end between us,” he whispers and it sends a chill across my skin.

He nips at my neck and then runs the tip of his nose along my jaw. My eyes close slowly as I lift my lips up to his. The first kiss is gradual, teasing even; I’m still reeling from his comment. The second is deeper but the moment his tongue slips across the seam of my lips, I have to laugh. His dick is hard again and poking me in my stomach.

I pull away from him, but with just my upper half, seeing as how he still has a firm grip on my waist.

“Already wanting more?” I tease him. He groans deep in the back of his throat and presses another kiss to my lips. This time I open my mouth, greeting his hot tongue with swift, deep strokes of my own.

I moan into his mouth as he slowly unbuttons my shorts and yanks them down, shoving his hands between my legs and cupping my pussy like he owns it. My neck arches and my strangled cry of pleasure is muted when Dean covers my mouth with his. He devours me forcefully and unapologetically.

And I can’t bring myself to regret it.

Not this time and not the next. And not even when I wake up early in the morning to find he’s already gone, but left his shirt behind with a note telling me it’s mine to keep until he replaces the other.

At least he left a note. I’ll give him that.