Chapter 28 #2
His hand slid lower, anchoring at my hip, drawing me flush against him as the current swirled and I felt his erection press against me. Then his kiss grew deeper, hungrier, and my fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate to hold on to the heat of him.
The falls thundered around us, but it was his pulse I felt hammering against mine.
Every movement, every brush of his lips, every slip of his hand against wet skin sent sparks down my spine.
Then he pulled away, just far enough to look at me.
Droplets clung to his lashes, running down the line of his jaw.
He was so handsome just the sight of him made me feel feral inside.
His breath grew heavy, as he mouthed the words. “Come with me.” And then he tugged me toward the rush.
Before I could question it, I held my breath, and we both pushed through the pounding sheet of water until we were gasping for air on the other side.
I wiped over my face, finding a different world on the other side. One that was dim, magical, and private.
Mist swirled like smoke around us, and a flat stretch of rock jutted just far enough from the cliffside for us to climb up and lay upon.
I scrambled up beside him, breathless, heart hammering, adrenaline pumping through every inch of my body. The water thundered only a foot away, but here behind it, the noise became white, almost softening, like we were cloaked in our own secret world.
Dean leaned back on his elbows, chest rising and falling, eyes closed as if he belonged right here in this very moment.
“This is…” I shook my head, still working to catch a full breath. “It’s unreal.”
His mouth curved in a relaxed smile. “I found it the summer I turned sixteen. I thought it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.”
I tried to picture him, then—young and tan. Climbing rocks until he stumbled upon this space.
“I bet you brought all the girls here, didn’t you?”
One eye cracked open, mischief tugging at the corner of his mouth—but then his expression shifted, softening into something achingly serious. “You’re the first one.”
The words hit me like a stone tossed into water, sinking deep, sending ripples through every part of me I didn’t even know existed. I drew in a sharp breath, stunned at the way simple words could unravel me so completely.
Before I could form a response, his hand reached for mine, tugging gently until I lowered beside him on the smooth stone.
The waterfall thundered in front of us, throwing mist into the air, but all I could feel was him—his gaze lingering on my face, then my breasts, which were covered by my lace bra, then lower.
With steady hands, he pulled me closer, and I didn’t try to stop him.
I searched his eyes looking for answers, for some indication of what we were doing. What this thing between us even meant. But all I found was raw, unguarded honesty. And God help me, that was enough.
I couldn’t fight this any longer. I couldn’t keep clinging to the rules I’d built for myself. I would surrender—to him, to whatever this was, for these fragile few days we had left. Because I couldn’t bear the thought of anything else.
He unclipped my bra with one hand—while his other palm cupped my breast. A shudder rolled through me and my back arched into his touch.
The heat of him unraveling something sharp and guarded inside me, and I let my head fall back.
His mouth found my neck—peppering soft kisses there. Then things grew deeper, hungrier. Each kiss felt like another steppingstone that led us closer to the edge of a cliff we’d been inching toward for weeks.
The water roared in my ears, wrapping us in a cocoon of sound and heat, and for a heartbeat, I swore it felt like a scene stolen from a movie.
Too magical.
Too impossible to be real.
But Dean’s touch was real.
His breath was real.
The way he kissed me—like he’d been waiting for me his whole life—felt real.
I let myself sink into him. Into this moment. Into the hands that moved over me like he’d been memorizing me long before he ever touched me.
I pushed him to his back and climbed on top of him, my legs straddling his thighs. My hands roamed greedily over his body, tracing his shoulders, his chest, his abdomen…then lower.
I pushed down his boxers, then wrapped my hand around his length.
“Em,” he groaned, voice ragged.
The sound alone made my hips roll. I moved closer to him without thinking, guided him against my heat, desperate to feel him inside me again.
Then I realized what I was doing, and something cracked inside of me like glass.
I stopped moving.
Completely.
My whole body went rigid, breath trapped in my chest, my hand slackening around him as every old fear surged up my spine in a violent rush.
I rolled off of him fast, skin slapping against wet rock as panic surged inside me.
“Em?” His voice was strained—breathless, confused—he pushed up on an elbow, searching my face. “What—what’s wrong?”
My throat closed. “We don’t have protection,” I finally managed. “I can’t—”
The rest caught in my chest. Heat crawled up my neck, mortification burning through me.
How could I lose control like that?
How could I be so reckless?
Before I could retreat completely—before I could shut down farther—Dean cupped my cheek.
The touch was gentle. Steady. Like something that would save me if my heart suddenly forgot how to beat.
“Hey,” he murmured, voice low and grounding. “Look at me.”
I did—slowly, my gaze focused on his deep brown eyes even though my breath was locked in my chest.
“Breathe,” he whispered. And for a second that was all we did.
In and out, slow and even, as I looked into the kindest face I’d ever seen in my life.
He brushed his thumb over the side of my jaw, then moved to trace slowly over my cheekbone. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Em… it’s okay.”
Relief stung my eyes. Not because he excused my reaction—but because he understood without asking for an explanation. Because instead of looking frustrated or confused the way men in my past had, he only looked… concerned. Steady. Like he wanted to make sure I was okay above anything else.
Something about that—about being met with care instead of irritation—slid under my skin and settled deep in my bones. Heat unfurled again—different this time, and I leaned up to kiss him—slow, reverent—letting him see that his kindness loosened something in me I’d spent years holding onto.
I shouldn’t have trusted him—not this fast, not this easily—but I did.
He shifted over me, bracing himself above me on his forearm, and he pushed hair away from my face. “You’re safe with me,” he whispered, his voice rough and sincere. “I’ll never do anything with you that you don’t want to do.”
His words slid under my skin, softening something that had been locked tight. Heat uncoiled deep inside me again.
I slid my hands up his chest—slow, deliberate—feeling the way his breath hitched beneath my palms.
For a moment, I just looked at him—really looked at him.
Searching his face, so honest and open, so breathtakingly handsome, I almost wanted to cry.
My fingertips lifted to his lips, brushing over them, before tracing the strong line of his jaw. I wanted to tell him why I panicked. Why the fear of getting pregnant made me crazy, why it could leave me paralyzed without warning—
—but instead, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, letting action speak where words failed. Letting him feel the truth instead of hearing it.
Then my hands drifted lower, along the column of his throat—testing the fragile space between want and fear.
His skin was warm under my palms, his pulse beating steady and strong against my fingertips. Each time I touched him, his breath hitched—soft, startled—as if he hadn’t expected the gentleness of it.
The more I explored him, the more something inside me loosened—
unfurling
opening
aching.
A part of me I thought had died long ago reached for him, drawn forward by the quiet way he accepted me… like I was something worth being patient for.
I pulled him closer, my lips brushing his collarbone, tasting the heat of his skin. He let me explore, let me settle back into the want that had scared me only moments ago.
Then I pulled him down on top of me and kissed him, not tentative this time, but wanting. Certain. The kind of kiss that told him exactly where my body wanted this to go.
His answering groan vibrated against my mouth.
That was all it took.
He lifted my hands gently above my head, pinning them with one large palm as he moved down my body, peppering kisses along my breasts, my stomach, my hips—each touch devastatingly slow, like he wanted me to feel every second of his intention and stop it if I wanted to.
I didn’t want it to stop. In fact, I lifted my hips in a helpless offering, chasing the heat of him before it even reached me.
When he lifted my thighs to his shoulders, my breath hitched.
I felt his breath first—hot and cool all at once—then an exhale just before his tongue touched that aching bundle of nerves.
My entire body jerked. His mouth moving with aching precision.
Slow at first, savoring, like he wanted to memorize me from the inside out.
“Dean—” I gasped, my hands flying into his hair, gripping hard, pulling him closer like I couldn’t stand even an inch of distance. “Please—”
My thighs trembled around him as he picked up speed, tightening helplessly as the pleasure built too quickly to hold.
The world narrowed to the heat of his mouth, the rhythm of his tongue, the steady grip of his hands anchoring me when my body threatened to lift right off the slick stone.
Heat unfurled slowly, rising in waves that crashed harder with every breath I dragged in.
I couldn’t think. I was falling—fast—straight into something I had no hope of stopping.
And then I shattered.
Pleasure tore through me in waves so sharp my vision blurred. He stayed with me through every tremor, his hands anchoring me, until my body sagged against the stone, limp and spent.
Then he slid up my body, covering my mouth with his in a kiss that took my breath away.
I wrapped my arms around him and whispered into his ear, “I’ve never met a man like you before, Dean Weston.”
His breath caught—just barely—and then he buried his head against my shoulder.
“Good,” he murmured, the whiskers of his jaw scraping against the skin of my neck. “I don’t want to be like anyone you’ve ever known.”
He didn’t say more.
He didn’t have to.
But there was something about his words that rattled something loose inside me.
I wrapped my arms around him and breathed deep, kissing every bit of skin my mouth could touch. I’d never experienced anything like this before. Passion and trust that released a part of me I’d been holding onto for way too long…
The part of me I’d been holding inside since I was a five-year-old girl.
The part that felt small and unwanted, that believed love was meant for others but not for me.
I’d carried that hollow place like armor, convinced it was safer not to let anyone inside.
But somehow, Dean reached it anyway. Not with grand gestures or promises, but with steady hands, with a look that stripped me down to the marrow, with the quiet way he made space for me, even when I didn’t know how to take it.
And in the moments when I should have pulled away, I leaned in.
In the moments when I should have remembered this was all a lie, I forgot.
He didn’t just touch my skin—he touched the girl who had been left behind. The girl who thought she was too much, too loud, too broken. The girl who hadn’t dared hope for more than survival.
And now she was wide awake.
And terrified.
Because when Dean looked at me—like he saw me, all of me—I wanted to believe him.