by C. R. Ellis
“Jesus, Jasmine!” I looked down at her shoes and back up at her. “In those? Are you fucking insane? You’re lucky you didn’t break your ankles! What if you had gotten seriously hurt and I was out of town or working late?”
“Dean, I’m fine. You underestimate me. And don’t blame the shoes! I was barefoot.”
I pushed off the couch and stalked into the kitchen, mostly to stop myself from thinking about those damn high heels.
For the past few weeks, since she had her legs wrapped around me wearing just those shoes, they’d made a few guest appearances in various Jasmine-involved fantasies. Shoes, even high heels, weren’t usually on my radar of what I noticed about women, but when she wore them it was different. Some women only wore heels when absolutely necessary, teetering unnaturally in them. Jasmine sashayed confidently in them like she was born to walk the runway in heels as high as they came. It slayed me.
I pulled an ice pack out of the freezer and made my way back to the couch. Shockingly, she took it without protest and gingerly pressed it against her forehead.
“Why, Jas? Were you really that desperate to avoid asking me for help?” I asked.
She blinked a few times and twirled the corner of the blanket between her fingers. “I told you…I was worried you’d have company and try to turn your booty call into a threesome.”
“So what if I did?” I wanted to laugh at her concern, considering I hadn’t even considered sex with another woman since we’d been together, but I was also curious about her response. She said sex couldn’t change anything between us, but the bathroom incident proved it had.
She glared at me. “I’m an only child, Dean. I don’t usually share well with others.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to share me?”
She bit her lip and slowly nodded. “I know what I said before, and I don’t even know if it’s something you would want, but—”
“You, Jas. Yours is the only company I want.”
For what had to be only the second time in her life, Jasmine Winters was shocked into silence. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. After a few seconds, she brought her eyes back to mine and arched a brow.
“Like…in the bedroom? Biblically? Or like an ‘I’m bored and you live across the hall, let’s get pizza and watch TV together’ kinda way?”
I grinned. “Both. If you’re there, I want to be there with you. In and out of the bedroom. I’m done acting like there’s not still something more between us.” I shifted, brushing a few damp strands of hair from her face. “We’ve wasted too much time already; I don’t want to go another day without having you in my life. I want there to be an us to figure out. I don’t want there to be others—just you. But definitely in the biblical sense, to answer your question.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “But I might be bad at it. You know my track record with relationships.”
She didn’t have to say it, but I knew we were both thinking about the reason for her track record—me. It would forever be one of my biggest regrets in life, along with the fact that I hadn’t fought hard enough for her back then. But I was determined to atone for the dickhead actions of my past.
“And you know mine,” I said softly.
“It’s just that I don’t really know how to have a successful relationship.”
“I don’t care about your track record, Jas. There’s a reason it’s in your past,” I offered, pulling her in and carefully kissing a spot next to the bump on her head. “I can’t change your past, or mine, but I think we can take it day by day and go from there.”
“I can’t make any promises,” she warned, pulling back enough to look at me. “And we’re totally going to drive each other crazy. Or, at least I know you’ll totally drive me crazy.”
“Oh, I have no doubt about that. Look, Jas, I’m not asking for a lifelong commitment. More like a test drive or a gym membership. Okay?”
She considered my offer for a few seconds. “You know, some gyms suck you in with their fancy equipment, indoor pools, zillions of classes, and before you know it you’ve agreed to a 72-year contract even though you won’t make it past month four. Is this—”
I cut off her endless babbling by bringing my lips down to hers. She responded immediately by deepening the kiss and letting the blanket fall to twist her body and straddle me. I knew I’d never get enough of her, of having her lips on mine. This is it. I’m never fucking things up with her again.
As much as I wanted to take things a step farther, I still wasn’t going to drag her off to bed. At least not until she had a chance to sober up a bit. I needed to know she had a clear enough head to agree to what we’d just unceremoniously decided.
I regretted my decision as soon as I broke the kiss. She was adorably confused as to why I’d pulled away. One glance down told her at least a part of me was on board with what she clearly had planned. I caught her wrist just before it made contact and changed my mind.
“Jas, wait. How about I order some pizza?”
She pouted. “You don’t wanna—”
“Obviously I want that,” I corrected, gesturing at my crotch. “But you need to eat something first. Maybe we can curb your hangover before it catches up to you in the morning.”
Satisfied with my suggestion, she nodded and rolled off my lap with a sigh. “Fine. But you should know, you’re missing out. I’m feeling extra bendy.”
I let out a chuckle before standing to pull my phone out of my back pocket. “Trust me, I’m painfully aware of exactly what I’m missing out on.”
I went into the bedroom to call in our pizza order while Jas scrolled through Netflix to find something for us to watch. We settled on New Girl, and by the time the episode ended our pizza had arrived. We watched another one while we ate, and I was shocked by how easy and right it felt to do something as couple-like as eating and watching TV with Jasmine. I could get used to this.
I looked over at her as she finished the last bite of her third slice. She smiled, and the sight made my heart swell. Swear to God, the woman could probably end wars with the simple tilt of her lips.
“Thank you for getting mushrooms. I didn’t realize you don’t like them,” she said, gesturing to the pile of them on my plate.
I returned her smile. “Anything for you, Goldie.”
“You know,” she said, wiping her mouth with a napkin before tossing it on her plate. “I’d say this is weird, but it’s kinda not. Does that make sense? I don’t know how to explain it, but this just feels easy. Like we might finally have a chance to get it right.”
“I know exactly what you mean. We will get it right this time, Jas.”
“I hope so.”
She scooted over on the couch, kissed me once on the cheek, and burrowed into my lap. Her movements were languid, not sexual, and I was perfectly fine with that. I put my arm around her as she leaned into my body and held her like that for minutes on end. It was the first time she’d been in a position like this in six years, and I never wanted her to move.
We watched another couple of episodes, half talking about Nate’s upcoming visit and what all I had planned for his time here and half paying attention to what was going on in the show. When her responses started getting shorter and eventually died off, I knew she was falling asleep.
While I could’ve been perfectly content holding her on the couch all night, I knew she’d probably be more comfortable in bed. Careful not to jostle her too much, I hooked one arm under her torso and one under her legs, pushing up from the couch to carry her to my bedroom. Once again, she nestled her face into the crook between my neck and shoulder, wrapping her arms around my neck as I walked, but not stirring awake.
I pulled back the sheet on my bed and slowly eased her body into the mattress. She rolled onto her side and stuck both hands under the pillow. Her dress looked horribly uncomfortable, so I walked over to my dresser and pulled out an old NYPD t-shirt to replace it. Ignoring the fact that it would give me a hard-on from hell to see
her undressed, I gently shifted her body and pulled the dress over her head. Then I carefully unhooked her earrings and slipped the bracelets off her wrists.
I didn’t strip her clothes off so I could stare at her, but now that she was here, in my fucking bed, it was impossible not to study her gorgeous figure.
I scanned the length of her slender-but-toned legs, lifting my eyes to follow the curve of her hips until I stopped at the tattoo on the side of her ribcage. It was a small, brightly-colored globe, designed to look like it had been painted with watercolors. She and Jade got them after Jas turned eighteen as a way to carry their love for Jas’s mom. It might’ve been a weird way to feel about it, but I’d always found the ink and its placement incredibly sexy.
After a few seconds, I lifted my eyes enough to stop at the necklace she’d been wearing under her dress. Recognition of the necklace and its origin made me freeze.
It was a locket with a muted version of the color wheel on the outside, and on the inside was a photo of her with her parents from their last Christmas together, as well as a photo of Jas with my family from the Christmas when she was seventeen.
I’d given her that locket as a graduation present and had no idea she’d kept it all these years. At the time, I didn’t know what had sparked her love of all things bright and colorful, but I’d picked up on her fixation about a year after her mom passed away.
After she opened my gift, she pulled me into her room and showed me the box of letters her mom had left her. She said her dad had given it to her after the funeral, but she waited nearly a year to open it. I knew about the struggles Jasmine went through after her mom’s death, but I couldn’t begin to imagine what that kind of loss felt like. She’d told me that the grief came in waves, and some days it still hurt as much as it had the day Bethany died, but that she was getting better every day. In Bethany’s first letter she’d asked Jas to think of her when she wore bright colors. To this day, I couldn’t recall one memory of Jas where she wasn’t wearing at least one piece of bright clothing or jewelry.
I gently lifted the locket and opened it, fully expecting to see my face scratched out of the Preston family side. But it wasn’t. The photos were both sitting exactly where they had been eight years ago when I gave it to her. Knowing that she’d kept the locket, that she still wore the locket, made my chest constrict.
In that moment, I knew with absolute certainty that I was in love with Jasmine Winters.
Chapter 22
Jasmine
If my apartment burst into flames and I had to choose between my shoe collection and my clothes, I’d be spending the rest of my days in my birthday suit.
Jasmine Winters, contemplating life’s important decisions
I peeled back one eyelid enough to realize it was still dark outside. I opened the other eyelid and found the only source of light in the room—Dean’s clock that projected onto the ceiling. It read 5:43am. I shot up and almost freaked out before remembering that I wasn’t going to work today. Realizing I had nowhere to be, I settled back into the mattress.
I’d seen freshman boys’ dorm rooms with more personality than Dean’s apartment, but he’d definitely made an investment in the world’s most comfortable bed and sheets.
What are these sheets made of, angel wings?
I’m never leaving this bed.
Dean stirred beside me, and last night’s events came rushing back to me. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel the least bit panicked about the idea of trying to make things work with Dean. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t eventually panic or have second thoughts, but for now, I savored the feeling of knowing we were finally on the same page.
What I didn’t remember was getting out of my dress and into one of Dean’s t-shirts. Not that I had a problem with it; the shirt was soft and comfortable and smelled like Dean.
I’m totally keeping this shirt. He is not getting this thing back.
Too stalker-ish?
Too bad.
Somehow, I didn’t feel an inkling of a hangover. In fact, I wasn’t even sleepy. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to make out Dean’s toned, bulky figure. Studying the gorgeous man next to me was enough to clear the last traces of sleepiness from my brain. I scooted closer to Dean, planning to subtly wake him.
By any means necessary.
My fingers trailed down his abdomen and traced figure eights on the soft skin in the crevice created by the perfect V-shape extending from his boxers.
I leaned into his body and ran my tongue along his neck.
“Did you just lick me?” he asked, his voice groggy as he stirred awake.
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
“Just checking to see if you taste like seduction, too,” I responded with a grin.
He laughed. “And? What’s the verdict?”
I launched my body on top of his, peppering his neck with quick kisses.
“So…that’s a yes, then?”
“Shut up and kiss me, you cocky idiot,” I said, pressing my hips into his.
“There’s the morning Jasmine charm I was expecting.”
I laughed into our kiss, but it was short-lived when he lifted his hands and cupped my face, holding me in place so he could keep our kiss going. When Dean kissed me, I didn’t see stars. I saw red. I felt colors the same way some people felt sparks. It was a strange way to describe the emotions rushing through me, but it’s the only thing that felt remotely accurate. It was the closest thing to complete happiness I’d ever felt.
Without warning, he moved his hands down and gripped my torso, rolling us over so that he’d be on top of me. “How’re you feeling? How foggy is your memory of last night?” he asked.
“Never felt better. And, drunk or not, my memory’s a steel trap, baby. It’s all there. Are we really doing this?”
“Oh, we’re doing this. Right here, in my bed,” he answered between kisses against my throat.
I chuckled to cover up the shiver his lips sent racing through me. “Well, yeah, I know we’re doing that. But I meant—”
He cut me off with a kiss. “I know what you meant. That answer is the same. We’re doing all of it, Jas. No bullshit. No regrets this time.”
“No regrets,” I echoed.
Dean pushed back on his forearms to pull his knees up and straddle me. I ran my hands over his abs before reaching for my favorite part of him, and he reached for the hem of my shirt, gripping it tightly in both hands.
Instead of pulling it over my head, he swiftly ripped it all the way down the middle until it was wide open.
Holy shit.
It was unquestionably the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
Without missing a beat, he dropped down to focus all his attention on my tits. Like he hadn’t just shredded a shirt with his bare hands.
“You…just…ripped your own shirt,” I stated breathily, weaving my fingers through his hair to pull him back. I didn’t even care that I was practically panting. I’d never been more turned on in my life.
“I have others,” he said, leaning forward to trail kisses across my collar bone. “What I don’t have right now is patience.”
“I can tell,” I teased, slipping my hand under the leg hole of his boxers to feel him. “I know I said I wanted to lick every inch of your torso before, but I think I’d rather lick every inch of this instead.”
He groaned and pulsed his hips in sync with the pumps of my wrist. I licked my lips and tried to shimmy my way down, but Dean pressed his body to mine, halting my movements. He pecked my lips before easing back an inch. “I love what you do with this mouth, Jas, but I wasn’t even kidding a little about having no patience.”
Before I could protest, he moved off me and reached into the drawer of his nightstand.
To prevent Dean’s impatience from ruining my favorite pair of panties, I quickly slipped them off while he stripped off his boxers and put the condom on. He resumed his position above me, one knee on either side as he boxed me in against the mattress, th
is time leaning onto one of his elbows while the other hand dropped between us.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he moaned, rubbing his thumb over my clit while I writhed beneath him.
“You have that effect on me,” I replied. I reached up and raked my nails down his sides until they finished at his hips. “Well, a very specific part of you, at least.”
He chuckled and slowed his pace. “Keep telling yourself that, Jas.”
I arched my back into him in protest.
He removed his hand and hooked it under my knee before pausing. “Still feeling bendy?”
I nodded.
He quickly repositioned himself to haul my legs up and sandwich them between our bodies. “This okay?”
“Yes,” I said, moving my hands to his shoulders and gripping him.
Dean drove into me, and from this angle the pressure was more acute; it was even better than the first time. Dean hissed a breath, and I gasped at the sensation, wiggling into him as much as my position allowed.
Each thrust sent little jolts of pleasure through my body. I’d never felt more alive, more attuned to every single sensation sweeping over me.
“Fuck. Jas. Fuck,” he hissed, eyes squeezing closed as he rocked into me with an urgency we both felt. His eyes peeled open and met mine.
I wanted, for as long as I lived, to remember the magnitude of how deeply I affected Dean in this way. The look this moment put in his eyes. It was crazed and lust-filled and beautiful. He was beautiful. I’d never felt more connected to him, and I’d never wanted him more.
“God, Dean,” I moaned. “This is…”
“It’s what, Jas?” he asked through heavy breaths as he pulled back.
Phenomenal. Amazing. Incredibly hot. Probably the best I’ve ever had.
“It’s…okay,” I settled on with a pant. I flashed a smirk I wasn’t sure he’d see, but probably sensed regardless.
“Okay?” he growled, slamming into me without mercy before leaning down and biting the spot between my neck and shoulder. He pulled back and met my eyes, slowing his pace, but still giving exactly what only he could give. “Let’s try that again.”
