by J. A. Little
Mita reaches behind her, grabs a newspaper and slaps it down on the counter next to us. There’s an entire page of photographs with a write-up about the gala in the middle. One of the pictures is of Kayla and me. My arm is around her and we’re laughing at something.
“Just okay?” she tsks. Neither Kayla nor I comment. “Fine, whatever. Be that way,” she scoffs. “If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I’ll just call my other cousin, my favorite one, this afternoon and get the lowdown. What do you want?”
Kayla orders a huge black coffee, a blueberry scone, and a spinach-egg-tomato-and-cheese breakfast burrito.
“You sure that’s enough?” I tease.
“I haven’t eaten in almost eighteen hours, Dean. Next time you plan on keeping me up all night, bring snacks.”
“Like Pop-Tarts?” I smirk.
“Pop-Tarts’ll work. Lots of carbs. I also hear nuts are good for keeping you energized.”
“I’ve got nuts. I can bring the nuts.”
“Mmhmm,” Kayla hums, stuffing a piece of scone in her mouth.
“So, uh, last night was just okay?” I ask, repeating Mita’s question and taking a sip of my coffee.
“Really?”
“Just curious.”
“The ‘oh God, Dean, sooooo good’ didn’t convince you?”
I cough out a laugh, scratch the back of my neck, and look around. She actually moaned the sentence pretty loud. No one’s paying attention other than Mita, who smiles and goes back to washing out the steamer.
“I don’t remember those exact words.”
“Oh, well, next time I’ll scream them louder so you can hear me.” Kayla looks down, focusing a little too intently on cutting her burrito. She’s being playful, but I can tell she, like me, doesn’t quite know where we stand.
We finish eating and Mita is quick to snatch Kayla away from me to show her Pietro’s work. I’m a little irritated that she won’t let me go with them.
“Don’t pout,” she scolds quietly. “I’ll bring her back. You’ve had her all night. I just want her for twenty minutes.”
I sit, drinking another cup of coffee and fidgeting with my hands for over half an hour while Mita leads Kayla through the shop and then upstairs to her studio. Finally, they come back downstairs. Mita’s whispering and Kayla’s laughing. That’s really not a good sign. I stand up, grabbing our coats and handing Kayla her purse.
“Are you leaving already?”
I look up at the clock on the wall. “We’ve been here for over an hour.”
“In a hurry for some reason?” She smiles widely and pulls Kayla into a hug. “It was good to see you.”
“You, too,” Kayla replies. “Thank you. His work is really amazing.”
Mita winks at me as we turn to leave. “Bye, Dean.” I’m beginning to think that introducing Kayla to my family might have been a mistake.
“So,” she says, clearing her throat. “Tell me something.”
“Anything,” I answer opening the car door for her.
“Do you still dress up in girl’s clothes, or was that just a passing, youthful preference?”
Ah, fuck. “I was four!” I protest. “I didn’t know any better.”
Kayla laughs. “You were awfully cute.”
I’m seriously going to murder my cousin.
Kayla sticks with me the rest of the day. We do mundane things. First, we return my tux to the rental company. They don’t say anything about how wrinkled it is, but as rough as I must look today, I suppose they’re probably happy it’s still in one piece. Afterward, Kayla asks me to take her to The Shops at West End. She needs to get a birthday present for her sister and there’s a jewelry place that makes one-of-a-kind necklaces. I’m not a huge fan of shopping, but I don’t complain because she kisses me right after she asks and her tongue tastes like coffee and one of those mints Mita keeps on the counter of the Jumping Bean. I offer to make her dinner at her place because my place is a dump and I’m still in a fucking Kayla bubble that seems to decrease my anxiety and makes me think I can be what she needs.
She buys the necklace and gets it wrapped up in a silver package with a blue bow before stuffing it in her purse and threading her fingers through mine. I buy a couple of steaks and a bottle of red wine before we head back to her place.
I don’t do anything too fancy, just broil them with some Worcestershire sauce and a few spices. Kayla cooks asparagus, and we roast potatoes.
As we’re finishing dinner, Kayla takes a really big gulp of wine and a deep breath.
“Can I ask you something?” Shit. Here it comes. The what-are-we conversation. My leg starts jumping up and down under the table as I nod.
“What?” I ask more aggressively than I intended. Kayla stares at me for a minute as though she’s deciding whether or not to keep going.
“Do you always have nightmares?” she asks cautiously. The question is so unexpected, I have to think for a second about what she‘s asking.
“I don’t… Did I?”
“Not last night, but last weekend, when you were here.”
I swallow dryly. Fuck. “Oh,” I say flatly. “Did I wake you up?”
“No,” she shakes her head. “I wasn’t sleeping. I heard you and was worried. It sounded like you were in pain. I wasn’t sure if I should wake you up or let you get through it. When I put my hands on you, you stopped thrashing, so I stayed. I just wanted to help.”
That explains a lot. Her voice, her touch in my dream—she wasn’t a figment of my imagination. It was really her. I’m not sure how to feel about that. It’s those moments when I’m most vulnerable.
“I have them way too much. Or maybe I have them as much as I deserve. I don’t know.”
“Are they always about the accident?”
I shrug. “Usually, yeah, but I have regular dreams, too.”
“Like what?”
“You wanna know what I dream about?” I ask, lifting my eyebrows. “Other than the accident?”
Kayla nods enthusiastically. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” She’s grinning at me. I have to admit, I’m grateful for her masterful change in direction. It lightens the mood drastically.
“You go first,” I insist.
“Okay. I, uh…” She hesitates briefly before continuing. “Lately, I’ve been having these dreams where I’m dancing in a club and someone’s watching me.”
“Who’s watching you?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see him. I just feel him. He likes to touch me.”
“Touch you how?” I growl, somewhat embarrassed by the fact that I’m jealous of her dream seducer. Kayla’s expression is mischievous.
“Every time he passes by me, he takes another piece of clothing.” I narrow my eyes, waiting to hear where she’s going with this. “Until I’m naked.”
“But you’re still on the dance floor?”
“Yep. But no one notices me.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I mumble under my breath. “What happens once you’re naked?”
“He takes me from behind.” I scratch the back of my neck and feel a bead of sweat.
“On the dance floor?”
“On the dance floor.”
“Wow,” I breathe.
“That’s not how it ends, though. When he finally brings me to orgasm, I scream out and everyone turns to look at me. I’m by myself, naked, with my hands between my legs. And that’s how I wake up.”
I gape at her. Fuck, that’s hot. And I’m hard.
“Your turn,” she says, letting the tip of her tongue peek out from between her teeth playfully.
“No way,” I laugh. “I’m not telling you my porno dreams.”
Kayla sticks out her lower lip. “How come? I told you mine.”
I push my chair back from the table and stand up. “No.”
“Please?” Kayla whines, jumping up with me.
“No.” Wrapping her arms around me, she reaches up on her toes and presses her lips
against my jaw, kissing me softly until she reaches my ear.
“Please?” she whispers.
“They’re all about you,” I confess because I can’t deny her.
“Tell me.”
“I gotta go,” I lie, changing the subject. I’m kidding, of course—I’m not going anywhere. Kayla’s hands are roaming all over, pulling me closer.
“Stay here,” she purrs. “You don’t have to be back to Wyatt House until tomorrow, right?” I take a step forward, and she takes one back.
“What about Andy?”
“He and Sara don’t get in until tomorrow night.” Another step.
“So you’ll be alone if I go?”
“All night and all day.” Two more steps.
“Hmmm.”
“You can sleep in the guest room again if you want.” She shrugs as though she doesn’t care, but I’m sure she does. I’m sure she doesn’t want me in that guest room any more than I want to be in there. A few more steps.
“I don’t know. What happens if I dream?”
“I can come in and comfort you. I’m a light sleeper.”
“Maybe I should just sleep in your room to be safe. You know, it’s all about prevention these days.”
I’ve lost count of how many steps we’ve taken, but we’re standing at her bedroom door. Kayla giggles, wrapping her arms around my neck and mauling my mouth. The second I clear the door, I kick it shut behind me. I guess one more night of pretending won’t hurt anyone.
Chapter 37
Kayla
I am so freaking comfortable, it’s not even funny. I’m lying on my side, curled into Dean. His heavy arm is draped around my back. Occasionally, I feel his fingers twitch, rub my shoulder blade, and then still again. My head rises and falls rhythmically with each of his breaths. I can hear his heart beating and feel it pulse against my ear. I press my lips against his skin, eliciting a grunt. Suppressing a laugh, I do it again. I’ve been at this for the last twenty minutes, when I accidentally shifted my leg and felt his huge boner just begging to play.
“Kayla,” he warns, his voice deep and thick with sleep.
“Hmmm?”
When he doesn’t answer, I figure he’s fallen back to sleep. I wait a few seconds and stick my tongue out, flicking at his nipple.
“Goddammit!” he swears, flipping me over and underneath him so fast I lose my breath. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”
“Oh, good. You’re awake.” I laugh.
“No, I’m not,” he grumbles, letting all of his body weight crush me.
“Unf, Dean. Heavy.” He rolls off a little, but not enough for me to move. He’s still really hard, too. “Dean?”
“What?”
“Are you gonna get off me?”
“Nope.”
I giggle and hook my leg over the back of his thigh. “Are you gonna get off on me, then?”
“Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles. I feel his lips against my shoulder. “Haven’t you had enough?”
“Of you? No.”
He lifts his head slightly and a crooked grin appears. “Really?”
Shifting his lower body, he begins to slide into me.
“Oooooh, God,” I whimper, but it’s not entirely out of pleasure. He gets all the way in and there’s an uncomfortable pressure deep within my belly. “Okay! Okay.”
“That’s what I thought,” he groans, withdrawing. “I could go all day, baby, but you probably need a break. I tried to touch you a few hours ago, and you told me it hurt.”
“I don’t remember that.” I grumble, sticking out my lower lip. I’m disappointed that I can’t just go and go and go. He rolls over onto his back, his arms above his head. The sheet is tented at his crotch. “But you’re…” I reach down, touching his erection.
Dean hisses, forcing his hips upward into my hand. I tighten my grip and begin stroking him aggressively. As my hand continues to work him, I press my mouth against his side, his stomach, his pelvis. His hand reaches down, fisting my hair. I tilt my head and slide my tongue up the side of his cock, where my fingers can’t quite touch each other, leaving a sliver of exposed skin. I adjust my body and suck the head into my mouth.
Dean moans loudly and stills his hips, letting me take control. It’s easier for me this way. I know how much I can take, and when I’m able to prepare myself, I can relax my throat. I move faster, hollowing out my cheeks. I can feel his dick swelling as he starts to lose it, pulsing. I swallow each time, trying not to taste. I don’t care what anyone says, jizz tastes disgusting no matter whose it is.
“God, you’re fucking good at that,” Dean pants.
I smile and kiss his chest, resting my ear on it again so I can hear and feel in his heart rate exactly how I made him feel—at least physically. I honestly don’t know how he’s feeling emotionally. Sometimes it seems like I’m on a rollercoaster with him—a dark rollercoaster. One where I can’t always see the ups and downs coming. Right now he seems content. But will that change tomorrow?
After awhile, I can’t ignore the fact that my bladder is going to explode. Slipping out of bed, I unabashedly make my way to the bathroom. I turn my head and see Dean watching me. He likes to watch me. I like that he likes to watch me.
When I come back into the room, Dean is face down, clutching my pillow and breathing heavily. Now it’s my turn to watch him. All I want to do is crawl back into bed and feel his arms around me, but I’m wide awake and really hungry.
I spot his T-shirt on the ground and grab it, pulling it over my head. It comes about midway down my thighs. Good enough.
“Where are you going now?” he asks without moving, his voice muffled, eyes still closed.
“To make some coffee.”
He grunts, I think in approval, but doesn’t move. Grabbing a hair tie from the doorknob, I pull my hair up and then make my way to the kitchen. I put on a pot of coffee and stare between the pantry and the refrigerator. My stomach is growling and even though I want something fast, I kinda want to make something substantial. Who the hell am I kidding? I want to make Dean a nice breakfast so he’ll think about sticking around. I opt to cook. I’m not a fantastic cook, but eggs, toast, and turkey sausage are easy.
While everything is cooking, I know the aroma must be wafting through the house. It smells really good. I hear the toilet flush just as I’m plating up the food and, a few minutes later, Dean’s footsteps coming toward the kitchen.
He’s wearing his jeans and nothing else. I stare at his bare chest. His pecs, the ridges of his abs. I get a fluttery feeling in my stomach. You’d think I’d never seen him shirtless before.
“What’s this?” he asks, yawning.
I lean over the table and set the plates down. “I thought I’d make an actual breakfast this morning.”
When I stand back up, Dean’s arms slide around my waist. His nose skims the back of my neck.
“Is that my shirt?”
“Uh,” I feel my face flush. “Yeah, sorry.”
“It looks good on you. What’s wrong with Pop-Tarts?”
“Nothing’s wrong with Pop-Tarts,” I laugh. “I just figured you’ve worked up an appetite.”
Dean hums, sending vibrations over my skin. I close my eyes. I like having him this close. In some ways, it feels like he’s a different person. His walls are down; he’s not guarding himself. His hand slips from my waist down to my thigh and slides up between my legs. I moan and push back into him.
“You’re not wearing any panties,” he growls. I shake my head, feeling his finger peruse around, teasing. I’m extremely sensitive, but he’s gentle, so it doesn’t hurt. “And you want me to eat that?” I freeze, not knowing which “that” he’s talking about. I feel his chest vibrating in laughter. He knows exactly what I’m trying to figure out.
“You’re a j-jerk,” I stutter as he slips two fingers inside. He pumps them in and out delicately a few times, making me squirm, and then lets go of me completely.
“You’re right, I’m hu
ngry. Let’s eat.” He sits down at the table, leaving me standing with my mouth gaping open. He takes a huge bite of the eggs. Once he’s swallowed, he licks the fingers that were just inside me.
“Fuck, Kayla. You make an excellent breakfast.”
“You’ll be lucky if I ever feed you again!” I retort, not serious in the least.
He pulls out the chair next to him. “You really do make a good breakfast,” he chuckles.
I smile and grab the two cups of coffee I poured from the counter, setting one down in front of him.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
“My pleasure.”
You’d think that after the last two nights, the awkwardness would be gone, but it’s not. I catch Dean looking at me twice.
“What time do you have to go back to Wyatt House?” I ask. I don’t know what else to say.
“I should probably head over there early this afternoon, but I need to go home first—get cleaned up and changed.”
I nod. “Okay.” Looking up at the clock, I see it’s already nine. “So, um…”
I see a flash of panic in Dean’s eyes before he looks back down at his food. I don’t know what he thinks I’m going to say, but whatever it is, it obviously bothers him.
“At least you haven’t been called in, right? That’s a good sign.”
He shrugs. “Guess so. I’m looking forward to getting home, though.” My fork stops midway to my mouth. Dean must realize what he just said. “I mean, that’s not what I meant.” I shove my bite into my mouth and look down. The insecurity of this new “relationship” is making me nervous. Dean’s hand covers mine and squeezes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Okay,” I respond quietly. I know Dean must feel as uncertain about all of this as I do.
He brings my hand to his mouth and places tender kisses along the inside of my wrist.
“I worry. A lot. It seems like every time I leave, something happens.”
“But wouldn’t they have called?”
“Maybe, but they all seem to think I need a little distance.”
“Do you?”
“If someone tried to tell you to distance yourself from Matty and Logan or any of your other kids, would you be able to?”
