He catches on immediately.
"You're the sexiest little brat," he grits out, his head tipped back against the pillow, the tendons in his neck standing out. "You're—Christ—you're amazing."
I hum around him and his whole body shudders.
I'm having fun. I'menjoyingthis. His reactions are so hot, and knowing this strong, handsome, and once guarded man is completely under my power is exhilarating.
I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, and his grip in my hair tightens.
"Kaylee—baby, I'm close. I'm—" His voice fractures.
I swirl my tongue over the tip and saw at that sensitive spot just under it.
“Fuck,I’m coming—” His body curls forward, his hand cradling the back of my head as he spills into me. And I swallow everything he has to give.
When I finally lift my head, he's staring at the ceiling and huffing out heavy breaths.
I crawl up and lie next to him. "You okay there?"
He turns to look at me and blinks, his expression dazed, flushed, and so openly happy that it makes my heart stutter.
"You're remarkable,” he says simply.
"I know." I grin, and he laughs, reaching up to touch my dimple with his thumb.
We lie there for a while. His arm is around me, my head on his chest, and his heartbeat settles back to something normal under my ear as the light through the curtain gets stronger.
His hand moves slowly up and down my arm—shoulder to elbow and back. "I want this, Kaylee," he says. "Whatever this is."
"That’s deep."
He huffs a laugh. "I'm not good at this part."
"The talking-about-your-feelings part?"
"Any of it.” He pauses. "But I'm not going anywhere. And I promise to give you everything I can.”
I lift my head to look at him. "Actually, that's not bad at all, Dean."
His eyes crinkle. "Must be the afterglow."
I settle back against his chest and let the silence breathe for a minute. There's a bird outside the window singing somethingcomplicated and repetitive, and there’s the distant clank of the lodge kitchen starting up for breakfast.
"Connor talked to me yesterday. Right before I came to see you,” Dean says, and his voice is quieter, almost tentative, like he's testing the weight of something before he sets it down. "About a permanent role."
"What kind of permanent role?"
"He wants me to develop a new program. Wilderness Skills and Safety. Not just filling in for the crew, but building something from the ground up—curriculum, training progressions, guest workshops. Something with my name on it."
I push up onto my elbow so I can see his face. He's looking at the ceiling, jaw working, and I realize this isn't casual information. This is the other half of his choice…to settle down.
"Dean. That's—that'shuge."
"Yeah." He swallows. "It is."
“What did you say?”
"I told him I needed a day to think about it." He turns his head to look at me, and there's something raw and uncertain there. It’s probably the kid inside of him whose uncle was the only person who ever made him feel worthy.