"But how'd you get past his personality?" Walker teases. "Must have been difficult."
"It was. But then I thought about it, and I realized that Dean is incredibly hot," Chloe teases back.
Leighton laughs. "Was that it?"
"Well…" Chloe taps her combat boots together. "I don't want to overshare, but I have to admit—"
"Oh God. I do not want to hear about his dick." Leighton makes a show of squeezing her eyelids together and holding her hands over her ears. "Tell me when it's over."
"It's Dean. It's never over." Ryan nips at her ear.
"Can't believe you thought I was into him." Her eyelids flutter open. She scrunches her nose gross.
"Yeah, wasn't like you two used to flirt nonstop." Ryan shakes his head you're ridiculous. He plants another kiss on his girlfriend's neck, then he turns to Chloe. "He treating you well?"
"Yeah. Surprisingly so," she says.
"Hey," I feign offense.
"Please. You're obnoxious on purpose." Her posture softens. Her voice eases. "You think it's adorable."
I bring my lips to her ear so I can stage whisper. "If you're gonna tell me you don't like it, I'm gonna check."
Her cheeks flush.
Iris laughs. "I have to admit. The Prince Albert thing—"
The door swings open. Brendon steps inside. His gaze goes right to Iris.
Then to me.
He raises a brow really. He's completely unmoved by my bullshit.
Kaylee, his now (finally) nineteen-year-old girlfriend, follows him into the room. Then to our bench.
She brushes her long blond hair behind her shoulder as she settles into her boyfriend's lap. "Dean, there's this idea in writing: less is more."
"Not following," I say.
"Maybe mention your dick less often. So it has more impact each time," she says.
"I get you. I'm making your boyfriend jealous," I tease.
She laughs. "Exactly. How did you figure it out?" She leans in to whisper in said boyfriend's ear.
He whispers something back.
Her cheeks flush.
She's not a blushing virgin anymore.
It was fun for a while, teasing Brendon about how much he wanted her. I pushed him so hard he bet me a hundred bucks she'd never been with anyone.
Asshole really thought I cared if his crush was fucking around.
I guess I did. Just not for the reasons he assumed. I wanted the two of them together.
Whether my friends believe it or not, I want them happy.
I do whatever it takes to make it happen.
Kay and Brendon made it, even if there was a lot of fallout on the path. His little sister, Kay's best friend, freaked about them getting together.
Right on cue, Emma steps through the door. She looks like she's headed to the clubs—dark hair in waves, makeup bringing out her dark eyes and red lips, tight dress, fuck me heels.
Brendon shoots her a really, you're wearing that look, but he keeps his lips zipped. They stay out of each other's business pretty well considering.
Emma surveys the room. Slowly, her gaze focuses on Chloe. "I knew you liked him." She turns to her brother. "Did you know?"
"Everyone knew," he says.
"Everyone?" Chloe bites her lip. "Was it really that obvious?"
"Yeah. You guys bicker like Han and Leia," Walker says.
Iris whispers something in his ear.
He laughs and whispers back. "One more word and I will."
"Right here?" she asks.
"Fuck yeah." His fingers curl into her thigh, over her jeans. "Everyone can leave or watch."
"Can you give them that same less is more speech, Kay?" I ask.
"They heard it." She looks to Emma. Raises a brow.
Emma nods yeah.
They share a knowing look. A we're best friends, we can nearly communicate telepathically look.
"Excuse me. Restroom." Kaylee slides off her boyfriend's lap. She grabs Emma's hand on the way out the door.
"I think she likes Em better than she likes you," I say.
"I hate to agree with Dean, but that was cold." Leighton laughs.
"That's not it," Chloe says. "She's—" Her gaze shifts to Brendon. "Never mind. Girl talk."
"You know a secret!" Leighton claps her hands together. "Damn. Why are we at this all ages place? I can't get you drunk to get it out of you."
"I hold my liquor better than you'd think," Chloe says.
I motion no way.
Everyone laughs.
Chloe swats me.
Walker leans forward to pick up the mic. "Are we gonna sit here or are we gonna embarrass the hell out of ourselves?" He looks to me then to Ryan. "Do your thing."
Ryan and I usually duet a grunge number at karaoke. But that's not what I want to do today.
I lean in to whisper in Chloe's ear. "Come up with me."
"And sing in front of people?" She shakes her head.
"Since when are you shy?" I ask.
"Since the day you met me in the ninth grade. That's a terrible question."
"All right." I stand and offer her my hand. "What if I promise to make it worth your while."
Her eyes perk. "Worth my while how?"
"I'll fuck you in the bathroom."
Her cheeks flush. "You would have done that anyway."
"Yeah. Definitely." I motion come here. "Shit. I wasn't supposed to say that, was I?"
"You weren't," she says.
"Giving up my bargaining power." I shake my head with mock shame. "Fuck. I need to work on my negotiation skills."
She nods.
"Get up here with me because you want to."
She bites her lip.
"'Cause if you don't, I'm gonna have to do Smells Like Teen Spirit instead of Jeremy and nobody wants that."
She nods with mock disgust. "That would be horrible."
By the second verse, Chloe is in it, belting out the song with everything she's got. When we finish, she hands the mic to Walker, who regales us with his best Metallica impression.
Bit by bit, she relaxes into the room. Sings along with everyone, cheers, laughs, mocks me as senselessly as I deserve.
Everyone makes an effort to include Chloe. Hell, everyone likes her more than they like me.
Which is fine by me.
I don't live my life looking to be liked.
After a dozen songs, I lean in close and whisper in her ear. "Meet me in the bathroom in two songs."
She looks up at me and raises a brow really.
I nod hell yes. If she's not game for that, fine. But I'm taking her somewhere and fucking her.
She nods back, a much more timid okay, then she scoots to the other bench to get lost in Leighton and Iris's conversation.
I hang back. Watch Ryan serenade Leighton with her favorite song—this miserable, breathy number where the singer sounds simultaneously mid-fuck and about to break.
Personally, I don't see the appeal. But she laps it up like warm milk.
When Emma grabs the mic, I move to the door. Leave as inconspicuously as possible.
But the hallway isn't empty. Brendon is leaning against the wall, staring at me with a knowing look on his face.
I stare back. "Reliving a favorite memory?" Once upon a time, he popped Kaylee's cherry at this very karaoke. At least, that's the impression I got.
He shrugs maybe. "You really like her, huh?"
"Yeah, I do." My shoulders tense then relax. It's weird not firing back a joke. But it feels good, admitting it aloud. I want to scream it. I want to tell the entire world.
"You sure you know what you're doing?"
"Fuck no."
Brendon chuckles. "Sounds about right."
"Did you?"
He peers through the window on the door. Watches Kaylee clap over Em's performance. "Not for a second."
"Even after all that time pining?"
"Only made it worse."
"You ever figure it out?"
"Depe
nds on the day."
"It's a hell of a thing, loving somebody."
His gaze shifts to me. His voice gets serious. Well, more serious. Brendon is always serious. "Is it?"
He's asking if I'm in love with her.
Fuck, I don't know.
I've never loved somebody. Never even thought about it. Certainly never considered it within the realm of possibility.
But Chloe…
"Fuck, you know that kind of insight is beyond my capabilities." I deflect with a joke.
But it doesn't fool him. He shakes his head nice try. "You want my advice?"
"No. But I'm sure I can't stop you."
"Yeah." His chuckle is soft. Knowing. "If you do love her, hold onto her. Don't let anybody, even yourself, convince you there's anything more important."
I shrug like his advice means nothing.
But that doesn't fool either of us.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Dean
"This is so much better than a karaoke bathroom." Chloe pulls my t-shirt over my head and tosses it aside.
"That's 'cause you have no idea how hot that bathroom is."
"I know enough." She reaches for my belt. Unfastens it. Pulls it from my jeans.
My hands go to her hips. I pull her body into mine. Lean down to press my lips to hers.
She rises to her tiptoes to meet me.
One hand knots in my hair. The other curls into the back of my neck.
She shifts her hips, grinding her crotch against mine. "Dean." Her breath catches in her throat. She forgets about teasing me. About banter. About everything but how badly she needs me.
"Yeah?" My fingertips skim the bare skin of her stomach.
"I'm glad I'm here."
"I'm fucking ecstatic you're here."
"I just mean…" Her brow furrows as she tries to find the words. When she doesn't, she shakes her head and brings her hands back to my jeans. "Thank you."
"For?"
"Everything." Her fingers dig into my sides. "Now take off your clothes."
"Which ones?"
"Uh-uh. No sass. All of them. Get naked and get on the couch."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Don't even."
"I never have been with a woman who wanted to be in control."
"I don't want to be in control." She cups me over my jeans. Groans as her palm brushes against my hard-on. "I just want you naked."
Fuck, all that denim in the way.
I can still feel the heat of her hand.
The friction of her touch.
My eyelids flutter together.
I want her badly.
But I still need to tease her. To keep this light. To get that laugh in my ears.
"How can you know if you've never tried it?" I peel her tank top up her stomach.
She lifts her arms over her head to help me.
Once it's on the floor, I bring my hands to her hips.
"That's a stupid question and you know it." She brings her palm back to my cock. Rubs me over my jeans. "Naked now."
"Sunshine, I'm not gonna do anything to stop exactly what you're doing."
"Oh." Her cheeks flush. "You're that—"
"Fuck." My nails dig into her skin. She's too fucking good at this. She doesn't realize it either. She doesn't realize there's a sex goddess in those combat boots.
And, fuck, I can't take teasing tonight.
I need to be inside her.
To be one with her.
To be every cheesy cliché in the world.
I lean down to bring my lips to hers.
She meets me halfway. She kisses me softly.
Her lips part. Her groan vibrates down my neck.
Blood flows south.
No more talking.
It's not my body taking over.
It's my heart.
It's fucking weird. But right too.
I unzip her jeans and push them off her hips.
She shimmies out of them. Kicks them off her feet. Takes my hand and leads me to the couch.
I don't waste any time.
I pull a condom from my back pocket, do away with my jeans, and plant on the couch.
She looks down at me with hungry eyes. Like she wants to consume me. Like she wants every inch of me.
No. Like she needs every inch of me.
She slips onto the couch, her knees around my thighs, her body above mine.
Her eyes lock with mine as she wraps her fingers around my wrist and brings my hand to her chest.
I toy with her nipple with my thumb.
Her eyelids flutter closed. A groan falls off her lips. She's falling into that perfect trance. Where she's in a world of bliss and pleasure and nothing else.
She's already wet, but I warm her up anyway. My thumb goes to her clit. My index finger goes to her cunt.
She gasps as I slip a finger inside her. I watch pleasure spill over her expression as I push it deeper.
She brings her other hand to my cock. Wraps her fingers around me and pumps me with a steady stroke.
Fuck.
My thoughts scatter. The world fades away. Until she's the only thing I can see, touch, taste, feel.
She pumps me with steady strokes.
I drive my fingers into her.
The way she groans my name is ecstasy. But it's not enough. I need to be inside her.
I tear the condom wrapper open.
She stares down at me, watching as I slide the condom on.
Then her eyes are on mine.
They're wide with bliss, need, affection.
They're promising the world.
I want to take it from her. And to give it to her.
I want everything for her.
My hands go to her hips.
She stares into my eyes as I bring her body onto mine.
My tip strains against her.
Then it's one sweet inch at a time.
Fuck. She's soft. Wet.
Mine.
It floods my brain, my heart, my everything.
I need her to be mine.
All of her.
And I need to give her all of me.
But how the fuck do I do that?
I keep one hand on her hips to guide her.
I bring the other to the back of her head.
My fingers curl into her scalp as I pull her into a soft, slow kiss.
She wraps her arms around my shoulders.
I pull her closer.
Kiss her harder.
She rocks against me, rubbing her clit against my pubic bone.
Fuck, the friction of her soft, sweet cunt.
I groan against her lips.
She pulls back with a sigh of pleasure.
Her head tilts to the right. Her hair falls in front of her eyes. Her lips part with a moan.
"Fuck." Her nails dig into the tender skin on my shoulders.
I look up at her. Watch pleasure spill over her expression as she drives me deeper.
It hits me all at once.
I love her.
I'm balls deep in the woman who's owned my masturbatory fantasies since I was a teenager, and it's the only thing in my head.
The timing is fucked.
And it's perfect.
My fingers curl into her hips. I guide her body over mine, so she can drive me deeper again and again.
Fuck.
My balls tighten.
My eyes close.
I reach up for her. Bring my hand to her cheek. Rub her temple with my thumb.
She lets out a soft murmur.
Then she's wrapping her arms around me.
Bringing her lips to mine.
We stay locked together, rocking together, breathing together, hearts beating together until she's there.
She pulls back to groan my name.
Her pulsing pushes me over the edge.
Pleasure floods my body as I come. I hold her close. Groan her name into her neck as I spill every drop.
She looks up at me with h
azy eyes.
Her lips curl into the perfect shy smile.
And it hits me again.
I'm crazy fucking in love with her.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chloe
When we aren't working, we're in Dean's bed. Kissing, touching, fucking, talking about everything and nothing.
My last bit of defenses crumble.
I forget about the test results. About the difficulty of drawing a line between girlfriend/boyfriend and teacher/apprentice.
I forget about everything but the comfort of his body against mine.
I shouldn't lose myself in his arms. I shouldn't let down my walls. I shouldn't let myself fall for someone. Not without knowing if I'm going to be around.
But I do.
I can't help it.
Time is funny. When I’m with Dean, days blur together.
When I’m not, seconds stretch into hours.
The week goes quickly. And slowly. Except for the holy fuck am I going to die question nagging at me, it’s normal.
We work. We play. We fuck like rabbits.
Brendon makes a big deal of wishing me goodbye before he leaves for his mini vacation. He’s taking his girlfriend back to New Jersey, to be with her parents for the one year anniversary of her grandma’s death.
It’s sweet.
And it’s everything I’m avoiding.
It makes the voice in my head a hundred decibels louder.
Thankfully, the next day brings a distraction in the form of tattooed sex god Hunter Keating. (Okay, I don’t know that he’s a sex god, but that seems to be the case for most guys around here).
He arrives at the shop bright and early, fingers wrapped around a thermos of coffee, deep blue eyes filled with calm concentration, chip firmly on shoulder.
If anything, he looks more broody and intense than he did last week.
I guess it fits. He is filling in for Brendon. If this is Hunter’s usual vibe, he more than belongs here.
Dean nods a hello. He motions to our suite, where I’m working on a mock up.
I shoot him a what’s that supposed to mean look.
He chuckles. “I looked at you. That enough for a reaction, sunshine?”
More than enough. With everything going through my head… I need to be at his apartment. In his arms. In his bed.
I need the rest of the world to go away.
I stand, set my sketchbook on the chair, greet Hunter. “Hey Hunter.” I offer my hand.
Hating You, Loving You Page 24
