His hand cups my heat and when he presses his palm to my clit, my back arches from the sudden touch and instant desire. “You’re so fucking wet for me, baby,” his whispers the rushed words out, his lips finding my neck as he pushes two thick fingers inside of me. With his stubble tickling along my neck, his kisses roaming carelessly as he fingerfucks me, the heat inside of me intensifies, burning along my skin and igniting every nerve ending that I haven’t felt since he’s been here last.
Curving his fingers, he hits that sweet spot inside of me, and rubs my clit with his rough palm at the same time, turning over the waves of pleasure until they finally crash inside of me.
“Dean!” I cry out his name like I need him, like he’s the only one I’ve ever needed as my toes curl and my neck arches with the pleasure rolling through me.
He doesn’t wait for me to finish, he doesn’t give me a moment to catch my breath. He slams inside of me to the hilt and I scream out in utter rapture. He pistons his hips and it feels like it’s too much. My body instinctively curls around his, my legs around his hips as he picks up his pace.
His breath is hot along my neck and every small touch, every deep groan, every thrust from him takes me higher and higher, prolonging the pleasure and keeping me on the edge of falling until he finds his release with my second for the night.
I can’t breathe, I can barely move onto my side to close my legs when he leaves the bed to go to the bathroom. The heated waves leave me and the cool air would give me shivers if he hadn’t pulled the sheets up around me.
When he comes back, he makes sure I’m alright to fall asleep, before climbing back in.
If tonight is anything like the other nights, he’ll have me again in just a little while, and I’ll wake up to another round, longer and more gentle, but with just as much pleasure in the morning.
If only I could have him always. If only I knew he wasn’t going to leave again…
The thought keeps me from sleeping. It keeps me from feeling the comfort I usually have with him.
Everything just feels out of place. Like something’s horribly wrong.
“You’re my worst habit,” I shake my head, brushing my hair out of my face. I need a shower or even better, a nice long bath with him beside me in that large claw foot tub. But right now, all I want to do is lie here beside him, before he gets up and leaves me again.
“Now I’m a drug?” he chuckles, deep and rough.
“You’re a mistake,” I correct him, hating the truth that’s there. I wish it was only ever a joke. It’s not though. The way my heart already hurts and he’s not even gone yet… he is a mistake and I know it. I just can’t say no to him.
“That’s the second time you said that tonight.”
Unless I’m mistaken, a hint of his cadence sounds wounded. When I roll over on the bed, still naked and my bare shoulders showing, the sheets roll with me but they don’t cover my upper half. A simper dances along my lips when his gaze lowers to my exposed breasts. Part of me wants to tease him, to tell him, I hope you like the view. Instead I hold my ground, saying something I’ve been thinking, every time he leaves me here with only a parting kiss and not even a date when he’ll be back.
I whisper, not hiding the pain in the truth, “How could this not be a mistake?” The rustling of the sheets mixes with my words as I lay myself down onto his hard chest, just wanting my skin to be touching his. As if the words I just said aren’t going to make him climb out right this second. Contrary to my initial thought, he stays perfectly still. Only for a fraction of a second and I stare at my pillow he’s laying against, the masculine scent of him filling my lungs. “You could have a girl like me in every town,” I try to joke, to make my voice teasing and force a smile to my lips, but I fail.
“I told you I don’t and I don’t like you saying that,” his voice is hard, but the way his hand comes down around the back of my head, smoothing my hair down is nothing but gentle. “I only have you.” Every breath he makes is deep and his chest rises and falls with my cheek on his hot skin. I turn my head ever so slightly, just to kiss his chest. Because a statement like that deserves a kiss at least.
I only have you. It sounds so romantic, but he has me for a weekend and that’s all. Then he’s gone and I get a call every once in a while, a text here or there, but we’re both busy, we live two different lives. The fact that I need to end this weighs on me heavily. This isn’t what I want. I don’t want a hookup every once in a while. Even if he says all the right things. Even if the smell of him on my pillows lulls me to sleep when he’s gone.
“Dean, I--”
“You what, Lysa? You miss me when I’m gone?” he questions me in a tone I don’t recognize and it forces me to look up at him. In the depths of his sharp blue gaze there’s something there I haven’t seen before. Something raw and wounded. “Cause I miss you too. I miss you so much that I don’t want to leave.”
In this moment, my heart twists. I swear everything stops because my heart can’t pump when it’s in a knot like it is. There aren’t words to fix everything. He asked me once to come with him, to take a vacation and just ride with him. I can’t leave the bar though. It’s the only piece of my family I have left. It’s all on my shoulders.
“I’m tired of missing you,” I confess and nearly choke on the words. “I’m too lonely to miss someone who chooses to be gone.” His expression doesn’t change but his grip on me tightens. I lean forward, needing to be closer to him, praying he understands I just hurt too much when he’s gone. My bed creaks with the shift in our weight. “I get it, I do. I swear I understand the family business and--”
Dean’s thumb stops me from speaking, pressing it against my lips as his other fingers grace my jaw and he cups my chin, shushing me. I’m not a girl to be shushed though. He leans his head down, in an effort to rest his forehead against mine, but I pull away. I need it to be over. I am addicted to him, but this is killing me.
I think I love you. And it kills me that you don’t choose me. It’s what I want to say to him. But the words tumble over each other at the back of my throat. My face is hot and my eyes prick with tears and I have to get away and get off this bed to put space between us.
“Lysa, baby, stop,” Dean’s quick to snatch my wrist, jumping out of the bed and pulling my body against his. He’s so much taller, and warmer, every inch of me wants to mold to his masculine form. With soft kisses in my hair, he says something… something that sounds like I love you, but it can’t be that.
I try to pull away again, but his strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me in close again. With both of my palms against his chest, both of us still bared to one another, I’m caught in his heated gaze when he tells me clear as day, “I love you Lysa. And if you’ll have me, I want to be here with you. I sold the truck, I left the business. I just want to stay right here with you.”
“What?” I’m breathless.
“I sold it, invested the money and I have some left over I thought…” shaking his head, Dean looks past me for a moment then licks his lower lip, his grip loosening on me and vulnerability shining in his pale blue eyes.