"Sounds like A Walk to Remember."
Her laugh erases the tension in her expression. "The Nicholas Sparks book?"
"Book? Please. I've only seen the excellent film. Starring certified hottie Mandy Moore."
"Is she a certified hottie?"
"Yeah. But she's no Chloe."
Her lips curl into a smile. "What if we're a Nicholas Sparks movie?"
"Guy in the movie seemed happy."
"So, you're basing your life decisions on a sappy romance writer?"
"I'm not gonna pretend I understand what it means to fall in love with someone with an expiration date. But I can't imagine a universe where I don't want to protect you."
"Is that what you've been doing?"
I nod.
"I guess you have. In your way."
"Exactly."
"It's not your strong suit."
"I know."
She leans in to brush her lips to mine. "How can you be so sure?"
"Nobody has ever made me feel the way you do."
"Ever?"
I nod. "You look at me like I'm worth your time. Like you see this guy who can be better. When I see that in your eyes, I want it. I want to be better. I want to earn your respect. Your trust. Your love."
"Dean…" She drags her fingertips down my neck. "You can't tell me I make you want to be a better person and keep to this no sex thing."
"I can't?"
She nods. "It's cruel."
"I thought we agreed I'm cruel."
"But you want to be a better person."
"A better guy would fuck you when you're drunk and vulnerable?"
"Semantics." She squeezes me with her thighs as she leans closer. Her lips brush mine. It's soft. Sweet. I need you not I need your cock inside me.
She tastes good. Like whiskey and like Chloe.
But that doesn't add credence to her claim of sobriety.
I pull back with a heavy sigh. "You play dirty."
"Sometimes you have to. To get what you want. You're the one who taught me that."
"Too smart for my own good."
"You are." She smiles as she shifts her hips away from mine. "You never told me where the line is."
If she kisses me one more time, I'm going to throw away the fucking line. "My self-control isn't getting better the more you sit in my lap."
"Mine either." She slides off me with a heavy sigh. "I just want to state, for the record, that this is entrapment."
"Is it?"
"Yeah." She takes a seat next to me and rests her head on my shoulder. "You insisted we toast then said I was too drunk."
"Fuck. I'm evil. It's not like you were angling for more booze."
"Not at all."
"I talked you into that."
"Yeah." She drags her fingertips over my leg like she's doodling on a piece of paper. "I was stone-cold sober before that too."
"Uh-huh."
"Glad we agree." Her laugh bounces around the room. It fills me with this deep, pure warmth. One I don't recognize. One I want more of. "So, um… I'm pretty sure I'm going to start taking off my clothes if we sit here talking."
"Are you?"
"Yeah. And I… I do get your point. You're wrong that I'll regret this. That I'm only asking because I'm vulnerable. And, quite frankly, I can't comprehend the reality that Dean Maddox is suggesting we wait to have sex."
"Me either."
"But then… I do see it. The guy you really are." Her dark eyes fill with affection as she looks up at me. "He's merciful enough to distract me."
"Is he?"
"Not like that." Her cheeks flush. "But somehow. And he needs to. Or I'm going to take my clothes off. And we all know how that will end."
Fuck, I can't believe I'm turning her down.
It goes against twenty-five years of instincts.
But it's the right call.
"How do you suggest I distract you?" I ask.
"I pitched one idea." She laughs. "I think that means it's your turn."
After takeout Thai, I put on one of Chloe's old favorites. Bringing Up Baby. There's a poster in her room—I caught a glimpse in one of her banana selfies.
She settles into the couch with a ceramic plate in her lap and her eyes on the screen. Somehow, she manages to eat without taking her eyes off the TV or spilling a drop.
She's practiced at this.
Not that I can talk. When I'm not out, picking up women, or drinking with my friends, I'm here.
There's something intimate about sharing a meal.
It's domestic.
Like we're playing house.
We finish dinner halfway through the movie.
I take our shit to the kitchen. Clean up.
She stays transfixed on the screen until I move back onto the couch.
All her attention turns to me. "You never put a shirt on."
"It's hot."
She laughs. "It's really not."
I shrug, coy.
"You get off on this cruelty, don't you?"
Not usually. Usually, I'm not into teasing. But with Chloe? Fuck. That's a whole different ball game.
"Why did I say get off?"
"You like torturing yourself."
"I must if I'm here." She looks up at me with hunger in her eyes.
But she doesn't push it.
Her hands go to my waist.
Her fingers dig into my skin as she pulls my body toward hers.
I suck on her bottom lip.
Fuck, her groans are music. Poetry. Everything.
Pulling back is torture.
She sighs as she settles into her seat.
Rests her head on my shoulder like she isn't dying to tear my clothes off.
I hold her close like I'm not dying to tear hers off.
We make it through the rest of the movie. Then the first half of the next—she picks His Girl Friday. Falls asleep an hour in.
She melts into me.
Usually, my skin crawls when a girl falls asleep on top of me. It's an intimacy I don't want.
It's still fucking terrifying.
But it feels good. Right.
I run my fingers through her hair. Watch her chest rise and fall with her exhale. Watch her lips part with a sigh.
Chloe stirs as I wrap my arms around her and carry her to the bedroom.
Her hand slides around the back of my neck.
Her head rests on my chest.
She murmurs something into my skin. I have no idea what it is. Only that I want more of that soft, needy tone.
I lay her on the blue sheets.
Her eyes blink open. Fix on mine.
She smiles a wide, nervous smile. The same one she gave me all those years ago.
I sit next to her. Pull the comforter to her chest.
"Good night." I press my lips to her forehead.
She lets out a soft sigh. "Good night."
It's agony tearing myself away, but I manage it.
I move into the main room. Pour a glass of water. Channel surf.
Nothing is as interesting as the thought of Chloe in my bed. But this spy thriller TV show is entertaining enough.
As the first episode ends, footsteps move across the hallway. The bathroom door opens. The water runs.
I start the next episode. The title splashes over the screen in big black letters.
The water turns off.
Her footsteps move closer.
"Dean?" Her fingers skim the wall as she moves into the main room. "Will you sleep with me?"
My cock stirs.
"Not sex." She tugs at her tank top, trying and failing to cover her black panties. The same ones from her picture—from every masturbatory fantasy I've had since—cotton bikinis with cream lace trim. "I know you want to wait. I just… I want you to hold me. I can't sleep. I keep thinking about it."
I can't say no to that. "Give me five minutes to brush my teeth."
"Okay." She turns and moves into the kitchen, hips swaying as she walks.
Fuck, she
has a nice ass.
I try to pry my eyes away, but they won't go. My body is already roaring. It's already begging to get between her legs.
She fills a glass with water and brings it to her lips.
I move into the bathroom. Try to get my thoughts from the gutter as I brush my teeth and wash up.
Fail.
I stay put as I listen to her move into the bedroom.
She leaves the door wide open.
Yellow light floods the dark room. It casts highlights off her nose, the edge of her shoulder, those strong legs.
For someone barely five feet tall, she has long legs.
I want them wrapped around my waist.
Pressed against my cheeks.
Fighting my hands.
Fuck. For the first time in my entire life, I wish I'd done more to cultivate restraint.
How the hell does this work?
I step into the room and out of my jeans.
Chloe gives me a long, slow once over. Desire spreads over her expression as she pats the spot next to her.
I pull the door closed and climb under the covers.
She nestles into me. Rests her back against my chest, her ass against my crotch, her head in the space between my chin and shoulder.
I wrap my arm around her.
Intertwine my fingers with hers.
She's so close.
I can feel her heartbeat.
Her inhale.
Her exhale.
She squeezes my fingers. "I'm probably going to keep you up all night."
She's right about that.
"I keep thinking about the test. Worrying it's going to be like last time. Everyone told me it would be fine. That it was just a precaution. That I was too young." She melts into my chest.
"That must have been terrifying."
"It was. But it was more dread than fear. I knew what was waiting for me. I watched my mom fight. That's what everyone called it. The entire time, up until the end, she was fighting. But she was losing. The chemo took everything from her. I didn't want to go through that."
"Did you?"
Her nod is soft. "I did a short treatment. But it was enough… Do you know how it works?"
"Not exactly."
"It's poison. And it feels like it. It's killing you, only it's killing the cancer cells faster. It was awful. I wasn't sure if I wanted to live or die."
"Fuck." I run my fingers through her hair. "I'm sorry."
"I try not to think about it. I don't know if I could do it again."
The odds are nearly nothing that she's sick.
But it's not what she needs to hear. "Then don't."
"But I'd be accepting it."
"If you're sick, you're sick whether you accept it or not. It's your life. It's your body. It's your decision."
"Maybe. I don't know if I could do that to Dad and Gia. Or you even."
"Don't worry about me."
"I'm not. I'm just thinking."
"About."
"There are so many things I gave up on after my diagnosis. But I can have a lot of them. I just don't."
"What do you want?"
"Well…" She lets out a soft laugh. "I'm not trying to get in your pants. I swear."
"You're gonna hurt my feelings, sunshine."
Her laugh spreads over her chest and stomach. She shakes against me. Squeezes my hand. "You overuse that line."
"'Cause you keep bruising my ego."
She turns so we're face-to-face. "I want to feel at home in my body." Her fingers curl around my wrist. "Like it's capable of making me feel good." Her eyes bore into mine. "I used to. God." Her cheeks flush. "I used to love when guys would play with my chest. But now… what if I don't like it anymore? What if I can't feel anything?"
"You've never tried."
"Only on my own. But it's not the same. It's not enough."
Fuck, I want to give her that.
I want to give her everything.
My fingers skim her cheek.
Her eyelids press together.
Her lips part with a sigh. "Dean…"
My hands move of their own accord.
I trace a line over her chin. Down her neck. Along her collarbones.
Her voice is soft. Needy. "Don't tease me. Please."
She arches her back, pressing her chest against mine.
I bring one hand to the small of her back. Hold her close as I kiss her.
Her leg hooks around my thigh.
Her fingers curl into my wrist.
She breaks our kiss with a heavy sigh. "Please." Her chest heaves with her inhale. "I have to know if I can still feel good."
Fuck, I'm being a fool.
This is what she needs.
I peel her tank top up her stomach. Over her chest. Her head.
I toss it on the bed behind me.
She looks up at me with nervous eyes. "No one has ever…" Her cheeks flush. "Do they… Are they…"
"Fucking amazing." I bring my lips to hers. Kiss her hard and deep.
She rocks her hips against mine.
Groans as her pelvis brushes my hard-on.
Fuck, that feels good.
My hand goes to the waist of her panties. I drag my fingertips up her stomach.
Her breath hitches as I bring my hand to her chest. "Dean?"
"Yeah?" My voice is heavy with need. Fuck, I can't remember the last time I wanted someone this badly.
No.
I've never wanted someone this badly.
Her hips rock against mine. "I… please."
I press my lips to hers as I drag my thumb over her nipple.
She groans against my lips.
Her palm goes flat against my stomach.
Her fingers dig into my skin as I rub her with my thumb.
I do it again and again.
I do it until she breaks our kiss with a sigh.
"Fuck." She looks up at me, her eyes wide with a mix of relief and desire. "That—"
I draw circles around her nipple with my thumb.
"Fuck." Her eyelids press together. "Don't stop."
Like hell.
I watch pleasure spread over her expression as I rub her harder.
Harder.
There.
"Dean." Her nails dig into my skin. "God."
Fuck, she's beautiful wracked with pleasure.
I toy with her nipple with my thumb. Harder. Softer. Slower. Faster. Circles. Zigzags. Up. Down. Left. Right.
I play with her every way I can, then I move to my index finger and I do it again.
Chloe tilts her head toward the bed. She bites her lip. Squirms under my touch.
She's wound up.
Ready.
But, well, I can't exactly live up to that no teasing request.
I kiss her hard as I toy with her.
Her tongue slides into my mouth. She kisses back, aggressive and hungry.
Her need pours into me.
Her groans vibrate down my chest.
Her fingers tug at my boxers.
Right now, she isn't thinking about her test. Or her future. Or tomorrow.
Right now, I'm the only thing in her universe.
And, fuck, the thrill of that—
I drag my lips over her chin.
She writhes under me as I kiss my way down her neck.
Over her chest.
I take her nipple into my mouth and suck softly.
I tease her every way I can.
Soft flicks of my tongue. Hard ones. Long ones. Circles.
I suck softly.
Then harder.
Then hard enough her groans echo around the room.
Her hand finds my shoulder. She claws at my skin like it's the only way she can express exactly how pent up she is.
"Dean." Her hips rock against my stomach. "Fuck me. Please."
I drag my lips over her chest. Take her other nipple into my mouth. Tease it just as mercilessly.
Her shoulders relax as a sigh falls off her li
ps.
Relief spreads over her expression.
But it's short lived. A few more flicks of my tongue, and she's clawing at me again.
Her expression is pure make me come, now.
My cock whines. It wants inside her. It wants every sweet, soft inch of her.
Soon.
Very fucking soon.
I bring my hands to her hips as I suck on her nipple.
There. I push her panties off her right hip. The left.
She arches her back. Shimmies out of her panties. Kicks them off the bed.
Chloe is naked under me.
And, fuck, it really is everything.
I toy with her until my name is a curse on her lips. Until her moan is more whine than pleasure.
Then I drag my lips down her stomach.
My fingers curl into her thighs. I pry them apart. Pin her to the bed.
"Fuck." Her hand finds my hair. "Dean. Please."
Fuck yes. I plant between her legs.
Nip at her inner thigh until she's panting.
Move to her other leg and do it again.
She tugs at my hair. Rocks her hips. Begs for more with her groans.
I hold her in place as I lick her up and down. I do it softly. Slowly. So I can savor the taste of her.
Fuck, the way she writhes against me—
It's magic.
I drag my fingertips up her stomach. Over her breast. Around her nipple.
I toy with her tender bud as I lick her up and down.
Again and again.
Until her nails are digging into my skin hard enough to draw blood.
Enough teasing.
I need her coming on my face.
I plant a soft, slow lick on her clit.
Her toes curl.
I try faster. Harder. Up. Down. Right. Left. Every fucking combination until I get it.
There.
A gasp falls off her lips.
One hand tugs at my hair. The other claws at my shoulder. "Dean…"
"Louder."
She groans my name again. She groans my name like it's her favorite thing in the whole fucking universe.
I lick her just how she needs me.
Toy with her just how she needs me.
Her brow knits. Her eyelids press together. Her hand knots in my hair.
She's there. At the edge.
A few more flicks of my tongue, and she tumbles over it. She pulses against my lips, groaning my name as she comes.
I hold her in place. Suck on the soft skin of her inner thigh for just long enough for her to catch her breath.
Then I bring my mouth back to her.
No teasing this time.
I wind her up.
Pleasure spills over her expression.
Hating You, Loving You Page 19
