Chapter Twelve
DEAN LINGERED OUTSIDE, giving Emery time to use the bathroom and get safely within the confines of her bedroom before he ventured inside. He could kick himself for rushing her when he knew perfectly well it was the wrong thing to do. He wanted to set them apart from all her other relationships—dates, he corrected himself. Emery didn’t do relationships. She dated guys a few times, slept with some—the pit of his stomach pinched with that bullet—but she’d told him that she’d never had a lasting relationship. From what she’d said about her ex-boss, that had looked like it could lead to something more. She’d gone out with him a handful of times, but according to Emery, the guy had become stalkerish. He’d wanted to see her every night, and she’d needed space. Then things had become uncomfortable at work and she’d quit.
He paced the yard, his gut churning with the thought of her ex making her uncomfortable. Wanting to see her every night.
Dean stopped cold. He’d wanted a relationship?
Could that have been it? Had she overreacted? Self-sabotaged?
He began pacing again. And here he was mentally making plans together for every night of the week. She didn’t need to mess this up, because he probably already had. That would explain her hesitation to going with him to the benefit dinner. Although his father could be a pompous tool, and Emery did have a pretty thin filter.
He had to fix this, and he knew there was only one way to do that. He’d have to give her space, no matter how much he wanted to barge into her bedroom and sweep her into his arms. That was a surefire way to lose the wild child, afraid-of-commitment Emery Andrews. Why hadn’t he seen that before? She might have been in denial about her true feelings, but he’d clearly been blinded by his.
When enough time had passed that he was sure she was in her room, he headed inside. Her bedroom door was closed. Cash was curled up in front of it like a tiny sentry. Don’t worry, buddy. I know the boundaries.
The bathroom smelled like her. A pink comb and brush sat on one side of the sink. A small white tube, glass jar, and pump bottle, all with MEANINGFUL BEAUTY labels, littered the other side. He picked up the glass jar and read the label. WRINKLE SMOOTHING CAPSULES. Was she kidding? She wasn’t even thirty years old yet. Girls worry too much. She had gorgeous skin, and he was sure it wasn’t because of some expensive face stuff.
He opened a drawer and began transferring his toiletries to another, clearing that one out for Emery. He put her things in the empty drawer and reached for his electric toothbrush, beside which was a child’s electric toothbrush with a character on it. He chuckled. He’d forgotten about that. She used children’s talking toothbrushes because she didn’t like how big adult toothbrush heads were. She also said she got distracted when she brushed and could never remember if she’d brushed long enough. The talking toothbrush did the remembering for her. She was quirky, all right, and that just endeared him toward her even more.
He brushed his teeth and washed his face, and when he went to his room, he found all the things Emery had left there earlier. He set the magazines and other paraphernalia on the bedside table, stripped, and climbed between the sheets. Plagued by the scent of her on his pillow, memories of the look on her face seconds before she’d kissed him in the water, the sensual sounds she’d made when they were making out assaulted him. He’d never forgive himself if he screwed up things between them.
He threw an arm over his eyes, ground out a curse, and tried to ignore the lust coursing through his body.
EMERY SLID BENEATH the sheets. Dean turned onto his side, reaching for her, bringing her soft, warm body against his. He was in that hazy gray space, not fully asleep, but not fully awake, and this was the best dream he’d ever had. He could feel her soft curves beneath a thin layer of silk. He pressed his hips forward, inhaling her sweetness. She nuzzled against him, making those addicting noises he loved so much. As his mouth came down over hers, it felt so real, all he could think was, Please don’t let me wake up. Let me live in this dream forever.
“No, big guy. I just want you to hold me.”
Her voice was so real, but she was saying all the wrong things. This was his dream, his fantasy. What the…? He covered her mouth with his again, but she squirmed out of reach, toward the edge of the bed. No! Don’t go!
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have come.”
His eyes flew open, and he realized he hadn’t been dreaming. One of the kittens scampered off the edge of the bed beside Emery, who was sitting with her back to him. The clock on the bedside table read 2:13 a.m. “Em? Sorry. I thought I was dreaming.”
She glanced over her shoulder, her hair covering one eye. She looked nervous, and sinfully sexy in a silky spaghetti-strap top and matching shorts. “I shouldn’t have—”
His arm circled her waist before she could finish what she was saying, and he pulled her beneath the sheet. A nervous smile crawled across her face.
“I wanted to be with you,” she whispered. “But not to fool around. I mean, not yet. I need to be sure that if we—when we—if we…” Her gaze slid away, and she inhaled deeply. When she looked his way, it was with pleading eyes that made him want to shelter her from the world. “I need to know that if we spend the night together, we’ll still wake up as friends and things won’t get weird. But it was unfair of me to expect you to hold me and not want to do more.”
“I want you, doll. I’ll take what I can get.” He locked her within the circle of his arms, bringing them nose to nose. “I want you here, and I can refrain from doing more.” He had no idea if he could or not, but he’d sure as heck try. Even if it meant taking a quick ice bath first. Emery Andrews finally, willingly, in his bed? Heaven. Resisting her? Torture.
“Thank you.” Her hand moved down his back to his butt, and her eyes widened. “You’re naked!” She gasped. “And you’re aroused!” She wiggled her lower half away from him, but he didn’t release his hold on her. “Why do you sleep naked? How did I not know this about you?”
He laughed. “Because it’s comfortable, and you never asked.”
“I can’t sleep with you if you’re naked! I won’t sleep!”
“I’ll remember that.” He sat up on the edge of the bed.
She threw herself flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. “What are you doing now?” she practically yelled. “Now you’re really naked.”
He chuckled as he walked leisurely across the room to his dresser to retrieve a pair of boxer briefs. “I assure you, I was really naked when you woke me up.”
He glanced over and caught her staring. Her cheeks flamed and she shifted her eyes away. As he stepped into his briefs, he caught her looking again, and stopped with his briefs knee high. “Should I leave them off?”
She covered her face with her hand, but her radiant smile was like a beacon lighting up the room. “No!”
He began pulling them up.
“Yes,” she said softly.
He hesitated.
Her fingers parted, and she peeked over at him, then said, “No! Definitely don’t leave them off. Ohmygosh.” She rolled to her side, turning her back to Dean.
With his briefs on, he crawled beneath the sheets behind her, gathered her into the haven of his body, and kissed her shoulder. “Embarrassed or afraid?” He was very well endowed. It was a blessing and a curse.
“Shocked and excited.” She giggled and added softly, “And a little embarrassed. I’m not used to seeing you naked.”
He nipped at her shoulder, earning a sexy gasp. “If I have my way, you’ll not only get used to it, but you’ll crave it, thinking about me and the pleasure I’ll bring you day and night.”
“Dean!” she whispered. “You’re not helping!”
“And if you wiggle like that again, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
She turned in his arms and put her hand on his cheek, smiling right along with him. She did that a lot, caressed his face. He wasn’t a needy guy, but the intimate touch made him feel special, and he hoped she never stopped.
“Think we can do this for real?” she asked. “Sleep together and still be okay in the morning? Still be close friends, and more, without it being awkward or different?”
“I think we can stay up all night, make love like bunnies, and fall asleep in the morning closer than we’ve ever been.”
The air rushed from her lungs. Man, he loved that response. But he was still trying to climb out from under the biggest realization of all. “I thought I blew it tonight, and it killed me to think you might bolt.”
“It’s my job to blow it, not yours,” she said with a raise of her brows.
She’d destroy him with her double entendres, and by the satisfied look in her eyes, he was sure she knew it. “Is your plan to torture me all night long?”
“No. That was just a bonus.” She touched her lips to his, then rested her head on the pillow. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. It’s torture for both of us.”
He pulled her closer again, their bodies touching from thigh to chest. “A good test, then.” He lowered his cheek to the pillow and gazed into her sleepy eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
“I’ll try to behave.”
She giggled. “Ditto.”
He leaned in and kissed her, tender and slow, savoring every second as her hand moved from his cheek to his hip. Behave, he reminded himself.
As he drew back from the kiss, he was holding on to his control by a thread. He knew he could probably persuade her to let him make love to her, or at least pleasure her. But that wasn’t how he wanted their first time to happen. He wanted her to crave him so badly she couldn’t hold back. He wanted her to be out of her mind with desire. As he struggled to regain control, he realized he not only wanted to be the best lover of her lifetime, but he wanted to be her last.
“Sleep?” he asked reluctantly.
She nodded, snuggled in close, and closed her eyes. “Sleep.”