by C. R. Ellis
“Are you hungry?” she asked, looking down at her menu a few minutes later. “Their risotto is fantastic.”
I shook my head and pushed my menu away. “No. Nate and I already ate when I met him. I’ll just have a water.”
“At least get a beer. Don’t make me drink alone, Dean,” she whined, sticking her lip out in a pout.
I acquiesced and ordered a beer after Natasha ordered a Caesar salad.
“So, I was thinking we could go out somewhere nice after Nathan’s graduation,” she said, flashing me a smile. “I know it’s a few weeks away, but we should probably make reservations now.”
“I’m sure he’d like for us to celebrate, but fancy isn’t exactly Nate’s type. Why don’t we ask him where he’d like to go?”
She shrugged and took another sip of her drink. “That’s fine. I just thought it would be nice to take him somewhere fancy. But you’re right, as long as we give him a little family celebration, I don’t think it matters where we go.”
Her use of the word family sent tiny warning flares off in my mind, and I needed to say something about it. “Natasha…you know this situation—”
“I know,” she huffed a little too quickly. “I just meant the three of us as a group. But you and I are the closest things he has to family, Dean.”
“It takes more than putting a roof over someone’s head to be family, Natasha. You wanted Nate to talk to you more, but then he does, and you can’t be bothered to remember what he says. I talked to Nate’s school. Turns out he wasn’t skipping class. He brought a note from the dentist the next day,” I snapped, looking at her expectantly.
“Oh. You know what?” She paused, biting her lip and looking down into her cosmo. “Now that you say that, I do remember him telling me something about it. Oops.”
I sighed heavily.
“Darling, I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”
“And, as far as him staying out late, he’s a teenager. He’s allowed to have a social life. I already talked to him about his curfew, so that shouldn’t be an issue again.”
She nodded, batting her thick eyelashes at me and reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Thank you for coming, Dean. And for talking to him. I know you think I’m overreacting, but it’s just…I know how hard it was for you when his sister started spiraling. I’d hate for you to go through that again if Nathan were to fall prey to the same demons.”
And there it is.
The one card she could play to always make me come running.
I’d failed to save Lilly from her demons, and I lived with that inadequacy every day.
I couldn’t change Lilly’s fate, but I could do everything in my power to ensure her brother had a shot at a better life.
I pulled my hand out of Natasha’s grip and lifted my beer to my lips, wishing the glass held something stronger than beer.
“Dean, I didn’t mean to put a morbid spin on our conversation. Do you want to talk—”
“It’s fine,” I interjected. “I appreciate your concern and everything you’re doing for Nate. But I don’t want to talk about Lilly,” I said with finality.
Natasha knew the basics of what happened with Lilly, but I’d never fully let her in about the details of how deeply her death affected me. Until recently, I never thought I’d want to let someone see that side of me. But now that I had, that someone was the only person whose words of reassurance held any power.
And she was half a country away, trying to convince herself nothing had changed between us.
The need to prove her wrong had never been stronger.
Chapter 17
Jasmine
Does it still count as exercise if you stop for croissants and a latte at the end of the run? Asking for a friend.
Jasmine Winters, pondering the value of the fruits of her labor
The only thing sleeping with Dean changed was my ability to look at my kitchen island in the same way. As the days passed, I was able to convince myself that my sporadic panic and confusion about what it meant was a waste of time. Dean went to New York for the weekend and didn’t so much as text me that he’d landed safely. I needed to get on his level of apathy about our encounter. Clearly he wasn’t still thinking about it, so why should I?
Sure, his smile eviscerated my thoughts, his dimples drove me wild, and his touch made me physically ache for more, but that was all a physical reaction. I’d spent too many years of my life consumed with thoughts of Dean Preston that it only made sense for my body to react to his.
But aside from the physical aspect, what did we have? I knew better than to assume ours was the kind of relationship that could be fixed with an apology.
With wedding season in full swing, I’d hardly have time to think about Dean anyway. I had a wedding coming up that was probably the most expensive wedding I’d ever put together. Alexa Matthews and Charles Cole had met while doing what rich heirs and heiresses of multi-billion dollar companies do in their early twenties – traveling around Europe. Their wedding had quickly become a competition to see which set of parents could make the most outrageous request.
The ceremony would be held at an old church in downtown Austin, and the bride’s parents had rented out the entire hotel a few blocks away. I didn’t doubt my ability to pull off such an elaborate event, but I did intend to dedicate my full attention to making sure all the last-minute details were in place and everything was ready for the wedding, especially since it was sure to be featured in numerous bridal magazines.
That meant no distractions.
Unfortunately, Mary’s strict no skipping the weekly dinner unless you’re dying or it’s an emergency policy meant carving time out of my schedule for dinner at the Preston household. Plus, I didn’t want Dean to think I wasn’t there because of what had happened between us.
In our childhood days, Jade and I spent half our summers roaming around the Preston property and planning pretend weddings. In our teen years, every waking minute was devoted to talking about boys and the future. It made me smile to look around the Preston place and recall the many happy memories Jade and I shared, even if our lives were vastly different now.
My trip down memory lane didn’t change the fact that I was about to come face-to-face with the force of nature that had wrecked my world, shattered my soul, haunted my dreams, and yet, still gave me heart palpitations with nothing more than the heat behind his emerald irises.
By the time I forced myself to go inside, I was prepared to play it cool and felt at ease with the looming Dean interaction. Like an idiot.
A few minutes after arriving, Dean and I stood in the kitchen, talking to Mary as she cooked.
Act cool, Jasmine, not deaf. Dean just asked you a question. I shook away the voice and forced my eyes to meet Dean’s. “Sorry, what?”
He smirked. “I said, ‘what have you been up to?’”
“Oh.” I shrugged. “Just work. Things get pretty crazy this time of year.”
For the next half hour, I kept catching myself staring at Dean. A few times I found him staring back at me. I checked my watch every two minutes, hoping Jade would show up and provide a distraction from this maddening game of who-would-crumble-first with her brother. When the minutes ticked by without Jade and Emmett arriving, I decided to excuse myself and wait at the opposite side of the house, away from Dean.
Hurry the hell up, Jade, I muttered to myself after cutting and filing my fingernails while hiding out in the old bathroom I used to share with Jade. I dug around to see if Mary had any nail polish in the medicine cabinet, but gave up the search when I found a bottle from the manicure sets Jade and I bought in middle school. Gross.
I pushed the cabinet closed and almost jumped out of my skin when I looked up to find a set of familiar, penetrating green eyes in the mirror.
“Jesus, Dean! Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack?” I screeched, whipping around to face him. “Or are you just stalking me?”
I shouldn’t have been surprise
d that he’d barge in on me in the bathroom. The man was irritating and boundary-less like that.
His lips twitched and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he closed the already-too-small gap between us. “That depends. Are you avoiding me?”
“No. I, uh, needed to find some fingernail clippers,” I claimed, realizing a half-second too late what a shitty lie that was.
A smile traced Dean’s lips, quickening my pulse. I would’ve tried to move away from him, but his eyes bore into mine with an intensity that made me forget I had feet. Suddenly, being on the opposite side of the house from everybody else wasn’t such a great idea.
“Bullshit. You ran back here to avoid me like I have fucking Ebola.” He narrowed his gaze and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why, Jasmine? Is it because I started talking about Natasha?”
I never knew I could hate a single word until this second.
Abort! Do not answer that! Do not react, either! My brain fired off warnings left and right, but my facial muscles missed the memo. My jaw clenched, and I knew Dean saw it because he stepped closer.
“No. Why would I care if you talk about her? It’s none of my business if you want to talk about her, to her, whatever. And, even if I was avoiding you, why does it matter?”
I forced myself to shake off the reaction his proximity was causing that made me tingle all over. I couldn’t keep getting caught up in his fuck-me-sideways body, no matter how much mine begged me to mount it. My eyes pinched shut. Sure, because closing your eyes totally means his six-pack abs aren’t inches from your mouth, waiting to be licked.
I groaned in frustration. “Pretty sure we have nothing to discuss, Dean. And even if we did, you know where to find me. No need to sneak up on a girl while she’s in the bathroom!” I wailed, flailing my arms wildly in the air. “You could try knocking, for starters. On this door or my apartment door. We live twenty feet from each other, for Christ’s sake. There’s even this thing called a cell phone that allows you to get in touch with a person literally any time of day. You should try it!”
His hands settled on the counter on either side of me, making me his captive.
“First of all, I don’t want to talk to or about Natasha. Mom asked, so I told her. That’s it. She’s my ex in every sense of the word. The only reason she’s still a part of my life is because of Nate. Secondly, you and I both know we have plenty to discuss. Your little panic attack, as cute as it was, is evidence enough of that. Don’t worry, though, your reaction to me is completely normal,” he insisted with an arrogant, knowing smirk I wanted to smack right off his face.
I opened my mouth to refute everything he’d just said, but he beat me to it.
“Also, I’m pretty sure cell phones work both fucking ways. We live in the twenty-first century and your thumbs aren’t broken, so you could’ve texted or called me in the last week. Nor are your feet broken, so you also could’ve walked your ass across the hall.” His smirk transformed into a scowl, and I practically felt the frustration ooze out of him.
I immediately shoved against his chest, trying to gain back the gap he’d just closed. “You’re ridiculous! I did not have a ‘panic attack’ just now because it was you. I would’ve reacted that way if Victor had been the one barging in on me!”
I continued to struggle in vain. He wasn’t budging and it was starting to piss me off.
He shook his head in annoyance. “Denial isn’t a good look on you, Jas.”
“I can’t stand how egotistical you are. Jesus! You’re so fucking arrogant and callous and the most frustrating person I’ve ever known!”
Unwilling to give up on the desire to distance his body from mine, I raised my hands to give him one more shove, but his hands wrapped around my wrists before I could exert any real force against his chest.
“Jasmine, enough. Stop,” he barked, his voice low and unnervingly serious.
My arms tensed as my eyes flew to his. The way his eyes penetrated mine, like he was boring a hole all the way to my soul, pinned me to the spot. I’d spoken the hurtful words verbally, but his eyes blazed—in anger, annoyance, lust, irritation—and told me he felt the same way about me.
When I realized he was still gripping my wrists, I jerked them from his clutch. We stood there for several lengthy seconds, neither willing to break the silence.
I finally caved when I couldn’t stand the silence a second longer. “Okay, fine, we might have a few things to discuss.”
“So let’s talk.”
“You really want to have this discussion here? In your childhood bathroom?” I stalled, hoping a meteor would suddenly crash through the roof.
“There you go again, trying to avoid me,” he answered, inching closer to me. His lips were dangerously close to mine, and I had to sink my teeth into my own bottom lip to keep from bringing my mouth to his, more out of reflex than anything else. I couldn’t help it. Our lips were opposite poles of two magnets; there was only so much you could do to keep them apart once they were within each other’s space.
“Okay, fine. I’ll start. I think we both know the other night was the result of all the seriously built up tension we’ve had toward each other for so long. Nothing more. Two shooting stars colliding mid-fall and creating one hell of a fireworks show. Now that it’s out of our systems, I think we are both mature enough to walk away unscathed.”
“Who says it’s out of my system? Or yours? Because the way you’ve looked at me, the way you’ve reacted to me, tells an entirely different story,” he pointed out. “Like right now. Your pulse is erratic, your cheeks are flushed, and you’re avoiding eye contact as if your life depended on it. You might be unwilling or unable to accept the truth, but your body doesn’t lie, Jas. You couldn’t walk away from me if you tried.”
Like I said, arrogant.
I instantly brought my eyes to his and forced my breathing back to normal.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I bluffed. “This is just my run of the mill reaction when a sasquatch-sized man traps me between his ogre arms. Don’t think you’re the only one who has this effect on me, Dean Preston.”
A diabolical smile flashed across his face, telling me he didn’t believe the words any more than I did. Probably would’ve been a lot more convincing had I not made the mistake of biting my lip at the sight of his dimples.
“I see,” he drawled slowly, considering his next move, like a shark zeroing in on a particular fish. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Goldie. I could have you begging me to take you in no time flat.”
Before I could react, he lifted me up and set me down on the counter, simultaneously pushing my legs apart so he could occupy the space between them. He gripped my thighs and pulled me closer to his body.
Hot.
So hot.
His actions should’ve outraged me, should’ve pissed me off even further. But they didn’t. Instead, they stole the breath from my lungs and made me forget the words I’d just had on the tip of my tongue.
He brought his mouth down until his lips brushed the shell of my ear before he whispered, “How do you feel about me now? Still going to tell me I don’t affect you?”
My response came in the form of hands flinging themselves up, around his neck and pulling his mouth to mine. I didn’t think, didn’t concern myself with the consequences. It was an infuriating internal battle, putting myself back in Dean’s clutches – like a game of Russian roulette; sooner or later, he would be my demise, and I’d have no one to blame but myself.
Dean’s hands left my hips and traveled up the sides of my torso before gripping my shirt and yanking it over my head. His left thumb stroked the soft patch of skin between my jaw and my ear, while the rest of his hand gently held my head in place. I slipped my hands under the hem of his shirt and dragged my fingers up and down his back, desperate to feel his skin. He groaned and started trailing his lips down my neck on his way to my chest.
My head fell back to give him better access while I wrapped my legs around
his hips and wove my fingers through his hair. He used his free hand to unclasp my bra, granting better access to my breasts. His tongue continued its blissful assault on my sensitive skin, turning me into putty in his hands.
We personified the saying, ‘actions speak louder than words.’ Regardless of how much we broke each other down with the words that flew a hundred miles an hour from our lips, those same lips knew how to unglue the other person when it came to actions.
His mouth kept working its magic as a hand scaled down my body and slipped into my panties.
Somewhere in one of the crevices of my mind, I knew this was reckless, and for more than one reason. Like the terrifying, undeniable fact that I already craved the feeling of being completely possessed by Dean. Even that wasn’t enough to make me want to stop.
But a sharp pounding on the door, followed by Jade’s voice was enough. “Jas, you in there?”
I pulled back from Dean’s lips like they’d morphed into venomous snakes and scrambled to unwrap my body from his. If Dean cared that his little sister was seconds from barging in on us in this precarious situation, he did an A-plus job of hiding it. I was automatically trying to distance my body from his while madly pulling my shirt back on, and he was reluctant and slow to pull away from me. The fact that his hand was inside my panties didn’t faze him. I yanked it out and shot him an outraged look.
“Uh, yeah, one second!” I called, gesturing for Dean to get out of the bathroom using the other door.
Dean glared at me and made no effort to move.
“Are you serious right now?” I whisper-yelled.
“Are you? I don’t care if Jade sees us both in here. We’re adults, Jasmine,” he argued, crossing his arms and casually leaning back against the counter.
If it weren’t for the fact that he was pissing me off beyond measure I would’ve been tempted to drink in the sight of him, looking so irritatingly breathtaking – indignant, clenched jaw, narrowed eyes, crossed arms and all. But I couldn’t let myself get caught up in his web of dimples and charm.
