I take my time…kissing each freckle across her nose and cheeks the way I wanted to that first night, then down to the the hollow of her throat.
"Dean," she whispers, and hearing my real name in her voice, in this bed, in this room—rewires something in my soul.
I find a condom in my wallet and roll the latex over myself before sliding inside her wet, hot pussy. I watch her sweet face. She's not hiding anything anymore…as if my truth has freed us both.
And I could come just from that alone.
We move together, slowly and deeply. Her hands cradle my face and she holds me there, foreheads touching, breathing the same air, and I've never?—
I've never had this. Not once. Not in all the years of women whose names I didn't keep and towns I didn't stay in.
This isn't just sex. This is only the second time I've been truly present for it. The first being that night with her in my truck.
With only a few more deep, heavy thrusts, she’s comes…like something blooming—moaning and trembling and unraveling against me—and when I follow, it's with her name on my lips, and my face buried in her neck.
Afterward, we lie together in the narrow bed. Her head is on my chest and my arm is around her and our legs are knotted up. Even though we aren’t talking, the night is full of everything we said and did and the terrifying fact that I just gave this woman every ugly truth I have.
And she's still here, breathing against my skin.
"Do you want me to stay?" she asks.
I pull her tightly against me. "I want nothing more."
She presses her lips to my chest, right over my heart, and I hold her even tighter. I close my eyes and listen to the distant fiddle through the cabin walls and the crickets serenading us.
Only the truth is between us now, and nothing else.
CHAPTER 6
KAYLEE
Iwake up slowly, which is unusual for me.
Most mornings my brain snaps on like a light—alarm, ponytail, shower, go.
But this morning, consciousness arrives in layers. Heat hits first. Then, the weight of an arm across my waist. And last, the smell of cedar and soap and…sex.
I’m in Dean's cabin. Dean's bed. With Dean's chest hair rough against my back, his body rising and falling as he breathes.
I just lie in it for a minute…the warm sheets, the morning light coming through the curtain, and the sound of birds outside.
The clock on the wall says six, so at least I can relax for a while.
Then I feel his mouth.
It starts at the back of my neck, soft and feather-light, as if he's testing whether or not I'm awake. His lips trace down to my shoulder, and his stubble scrapes gently against my skin, and a shiver rolls through me that I couldn't hide if I tried.
"Morning," he murmurs against my shoulder blade. His voice is rough with sleep, rumbly and deep.
"Mm. Morning."
He rolls me onto my back, and I blink up at him in the pale light. His hair is sticking up on one side, flattened on the other, and his eyes are that soft blue-gray. He looks younger. Rested.
He also looks like a man with a wicked plan.
"What are you doing?" I ask, though the answer becomes pretty obvious when he dips his head and presses his mouth to the column of my throat.
"Saying good morning." He kisses lower. "Properly."