Chapter 5
Aubrey
Dean’s mouth is hot on my throat, his hands rough on my hips as he drives me into the mattress.
I gasp, arching under him, nails digging into his shoulders.
He groans, low and throaty, like he’s barely holding it together.
The room smells like whiskey, sweat, and sex.
It’s dizzying, intoxicating, the kind of memory that’s burned into your brain forever.
“Fuck, Aubrey,” he growls, tongue running up my jaw, nipping my flesh. “You feel so damn good. I can’t get enough of you.”
I tug him closer, legs wrapped tight around his waist, pulling him deeper.
My pussy is so wet and aching for him, every nerve raw, screaming for release.
He kisses me hard, pinning my wrists above my head.
The stubble of his beard rubs against my neck as he bites down, making me whimper, then he works his way lower, teeth and tongue dragging over my collarbone until his mouth finds my tits, sucking one nipple between his lips and making me arch up for more.
He shifts, trailing his hand between my thighs, fingers sliding over my bare cunt…slow, almost teasing. “You want more, Aubrey?” he rasps, his voice sounding wrecked.
“God, yes. Please, Dean. Don’t stop,” I pant, rocking against him.
He slides two fingers inside, curling them just right, and I cry out, hips jerking. His thumb circles my clit, knowing exactly how to push me to the edge and keep me there. He watches my face, like he wants to memorize the way I fall apart for him.
He’s got me begging, and I know it sounds shameless and desperate. But I don’t give a fuck. “Dean, please, I need…”
“Say it,” he demands, his voice dirty and dark.
“I need you. Inside me. Now…please…” His laugh is rough and breathless, like he’s losing his mind.
He lines his cock up at my entrance and pushes in hard. I shatter, nails raking down his back as he fills me, thick and perfect. And oh, fuck, so deep.
He moves slow at first, savoring every gasp, every curse. “You’re so tight, baby. So fucking wet for me. Do you know what you do to me?”
The sensation is so intense I can’t find my words.
All I can do is hold on, feel the way he takes me apart and puts me back together with his hands, his cock, his filthy words.
When he lets himself go, and his thrusts become rougher…
harder. I come apart, tightening around him as he chases his own release.
Dean buries his face in my neck, shuddering as he empties inside me. He’s holding on to me so tight it almost hurts.
“Shit, Aubrey… fuck. You’re going to ruin me.”
We stay like that for I don’t know how long, hot and sticky, letting the sweat cool on our skin. He kisses my forehead, softer now, thumb stroking my cheek, as he just looks at me. In a way that feels so intimate, like he’s trying to tell me something without having to use words.
“Stay,” I whisper, afraid to ask but needing it.
He still doesn’t say anything, just kisses me again, rough and sweet, and for a little while, I let myself believe he will.
Waking up after a night with Dean is like waking up with a hangover…
every part of me aches, every thought is disordered, and I can still feel him everywhere.
His hands, his mouth, the way he said my name like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
My sheets smell like him, like whiskey and sex.
I just lie there for a second, eyes focusing on the cracked ceiling, my body deliciously sore, and my heart racing.
He’s already gone. But this time there’s a mug of coffee on my nightstand, still warm, and that’s something…right?
I close my eyes, breathing him in. I should be pissed, but I’m not. I’m hooked. Hopelessly, dangerously hooked on this man.
But as the morning wears on, that high starts to fade.
I replay the night in my head. How he looked at me at Maggie’s, the way his hands were unsteady when he touched my face, how intense he got when we finally made it back to my place, unable to keep our hands off each other.
Underneath all the heat and want, there was something else.
A tension…some type of distance, like he was bracing for disaster even as he kissed me like I was everything. It was weird.
I head to the diner, nerves all twisted, my mind spinning.
I can’t stop myself from analyzing every little thing Dean does.
He always sits in the back of the diner, never letting anyone get behind him.
The way he checks the door every five minutes, like someone’s coming for him.
All the times he zones out, and I catch his jaw clenched like he’s ready for a fight.
Regular guys don’t do that. Not here. Not in sleepy, boring Crystal Falls.
I keep telling myself it’s none of my business. I’m not his girlfriend. Hell, I’m not even sure what we are. A one-night stand that lasted more than one night? Friends who can’t keep their hands off each other? A walking disaster waiting to happen?
Gina sees me staring at the door after we open. “He’ll show,” she teases, tossing a rag at me. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, but I’m smiling. I hate that she’s right.
When Dean finally walks in, it’s like the whole room shifts around him. He’s got that dark energy, eyes shadowed, shoulders tense. He scans the place, then relaxes a bit when he sees me behind the counter. I feel it everywhere, like electricity.
He takes his usual booth. I bring him coffee. “Morning, tough guy.”
His lips twitch. “Morning, trouble.”
God, I love that.
It’s like we have our own language, just for us.
I try to play it cool, but I can’t help watching him more than usual today. There’s a bruise on his jaw, a fresh one. Movement across the diner makes him tense; it’s so subtle nobody else would catch it.
But I do.
The fresh bruise on Dean’s jaw is ugly and dark.
Not realizing how bad it really was until being this close.
It twists something inside me. I want to reach out, trace it with my fingers, and ask him what happened.
I know he’ll just dodge the question, so instead, I nod, going for casual, even though I’m anything but.
“Rough night or morning?” I say, trying to keep it light.
He shrugs. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
I grab the cream and sugar, even though I know he takes it black, just needing to do something with my hands.
“You always handle everything alone?”
He goes quiet, and for a second, I see something unfamiliar in his eyes…fear, maybe, or regret. He covers it fast, takes a long sip. “Some things are easier that way.”
Not being able to take it anymore, I lean in. Not letting him off easy. “Are you ever gonna let me in, Dean? Or is this just gonna be coffee and sex and pretending we’re not both thinking about more?”
He looks up at me, his face unreadable. “You sure you want to know more?”
“Yeah. I do. I’m not some na?ve kid, you know?”
He sighs and sets his cup down. “Aubrey, I know you’re not. I just need you to trust me, okay? It’s nothing against you.”
That stings.
I cross my arms, becoming defensive. “I get it, Dean. You’ve got secrets. Everyone does. But it feels like you’re always waiting for something bad to happen. Like you don’t trust anyone. Not even me.”
He shifts, jaw ticking. “Aubrey, I do trust you.”
“Then act like it,” I shoot back, keeping my voice low so no one hears, and narrowing my gaze. “At least tell me why you’re always looking over your shoulder. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
He shakes his head, but it’s too fast, too practiced. “No trouble.”
“Bullshit, Dean. You’ve got a bruise that was not there last night, and it sure as hell didn’t come from falling out of bed. The way you flinch every time a truck backfires. That’s not nothing.”
He leans in, voice low and hard. “You really want to know? I’ve got a past, Aubrey. A bad one. Some of it is still chasing me. That’s all. Now let it go.” His gaze is stern and final.
I swallow. My heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest, but I’m too stubborn to back off. “Are you in danger? Am I?”
Still holding my gaze, he says, “I’d never let anything happen to you. That’s a promise.”
There’s an edge in his voice that makes me shiver. I want to believe him. God, I want to crawl across the booth, straddle his lap, and kiss him until he forgets about whatever it is chasing him. But I can’t ignore the fear in my gut.
“Dean,” I whisper, “I just want you to be honest with me. I really do care about you. And this…” I gesture, waving back and forth between us, “…it’s real for me. But I’m not stupid. I know you’re hiding shit.”
He looks away and rubs the back of his neck. “You ever think maybe you’re better off not knowing?”
“Maybe,” I say. “But I’m done pretending I don’t notice things. You don’t have to tell me everything. Just… be honest.”
He laughs bitterly. “I’ve never been a good liar, Aubrey.”
“Okay…well, that’s a start.”
Outside, rain starts to tap against the windows, and the diner hums with the usual noise of forks against plates, the coffee machine hissing, and low voices. But between us, the air is thick, heavy with things unsaid.
After a minute, I slide into the booth beside him instead of across. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him, the smell of his skin…soap, leather, trouble.
“I don’t scare easily, Dean,” I tell him, laying my hand on his thigh. “And you don’t have to protect me from whatever it is you’re running from.”
His jaw works. He cups my cheek. “You’re too good for my world, Aubrey.”
“Maybe I want it anyway,” I whisper, eyes locked on his. “Maybe I want all of you. Even the fucked-up parts.”
He breathes out slowly, like I’m killing him. “You’re going to hate me when you find out who I really am.”
I grin; my nerves now shot to hell. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”
He kisses me, like he’s sorry for wanting me but can’t help himself. His hand slips under my shirt, fingers digging into my skin, like he’s desperate for the closeness.
I pull him into me, needing to feel him, needing to rid him of the doubts. The booth is hidden but not soundproof. “Back room. Five minutes,” I breathe against his mouth.
He grins. “Can’t wait that long.”
We sneak away, hearts pounding. The storage room is cold, crowded with bags of flour and coffee, but we don’t notice. Dean has me pressed against the wall, his mouth on mine, as his hands work fast to get my jeans down.
He doesn’t waste any time dipping his rough fingers into my drenched pussy. “Yes…Please, Dean.” I grip his forearms, nails digging, as he gives my sweet spot a ‘come hither.’
“Fuck, Aubrey, you’re so wet,” he growls, his lips brushing my ear. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“Show me,” I gasp, tugging at his belt.
He doesn’t hesitate, lifting me, so my legs wrap around his waist. Every thrust is a promise and a warning. I want to drown in him, lose myself, and forget all the questions, all the fear.
After, we’re spent and breathless, clothes half-on, half-off, clinging to each other in the dark. He buries his face in my neck. “I don’t want to fuck this up.” His voice is muffled.
“You already did,” I tease, tracing circles on his back. “But I’m still here.”
He lets out a shaky laugh. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going anywhere.”
He’s silent for a long time. Then, he gently kisses my forehead. “One day, I promise I’ll tell you everything. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s all I can give you right now.”
He’s right. It’s not enough. But it’s something.
When we walk back into the diner, no one’s oblivious to what we’ve been up to. Gina winks at me but leaves it alone. Dean heads out, but not before squeezing my hand.
My heart twists as I watch him leave. I want him so bad. I want the truth. I want it all, even if it rips me apart. I have to figure out who Dean Michaels is, no matter how many walls he throws up. Because that’s who I am.
I’m stubborn, and I can’t let it go. Not when I’m this far gone.