Hannah
Sun creeps between the slats in my curtains, sending little waves of sunlight through my tiny space.
A warmth against my back catches me by surprise until I look down at the arm draped over my stomach.
The familiar tattoos against corded forearms brings a sense of comfort that with any other man who spent the night would have me sprinting for the door.
I run my fingertips along his skin before peeking over at the untamed man beside me.
In his sleep he looks approachable. The lines on his face are softened, making him look like a kinder version of the man most people see as a self-centered dick.
His brown hair has fallen over his forehead and the scruff on his chin seems to have grown overnight.
I’m shocked at how unbothered I am that he slept in my bed all night.
It should feel too intimate, too domesticated, too close to breaking rule number two.
There is no denying that I like waking up next to him, so maybe, just maybe I’ll be flexible with rule number two, for today.
My eyes zero in on his mouth, his full lips that aren’t turned downward in a scowl.
I thought last night he would finally kiss me, give me the thing that I’ve been trying to deny wanting more than anything.
He fucks like a God, but all I want is a kiss?
Shaking my head, I pull my attention off his face and turn onto my back, running my hands down my face.
With a gasp I look at my nails, the pink nail polish I applied the day before chipped at the tips.
Suddenly filled with a sense of vulnerability, I slip out from under his heavy arm tucking a pillow in my place.
I watch as he sleepily pulls the pillow into himself, then sneak into the bathroom.
After I dig my nail polish out of my bag, I take a seat on the couch in the living area, just down the two steps from the bed.
From here I can see his back rising and falling, the design of his ink taking up every inch of skin before it disappears below the sheet falling loosely around his hips.
Mountains run along the tops of his shoulders, the peaks touching a sky dotted with clouds.
His lower back is a perfect representation of a wide open field dotted with wildflowers, a river running along his lower back.
I need to get him on his stomach more often so I can see the rest. Shaking my head, I turn away and dip the brush into the bright pink polish.
A few moments later, my nails look good as new.
Blowing on them to get them to dry faster, I look around my little space that I’ve called home over the past couple years.
I’ve spent holidays and birthdays in here, but no memory can top that of last night.
Despite the rules I put in place, something shifted last night.
It wasn’t a quick hookup, he didn’t leave me naked in bed, slipping out as soon as we finished.
It’s too complicated for me to try and work out in my post sex haze.
Tapping my nail on my lip to test if it’s dry, I notice Dean’s chaps lying on the floor.
Glancing back at the bed, I stand and tip toe over to them, turning them to face upward.
I stick the brush back in the polish and do something I hope won’t get me punished—too roughly at least—when he finds out.
As quietly as I can, I put the polish away and slip back into bed beside Dean.
I should wake him up, put some distance between us, but the draw to be close to him is too strong.
As soon as I pull the covers over me he reaches out and pulls me into him as if I’m weightless.
His chest warm against my skin, and I cuddle in closer.
“Mornin’, darlin’.” His voice is coated in a sleepy drawl, making his accent even thicker. His beard scratches against my skin, his hands pull me against his hard body. Before I can get lost in him all over again, there is a soft knock on my door.
“I have no idea who that is,” I whisper quietly into Dean's chest.
With a gentle squeeze and quick kiss to my head, he slips out of the bed, his black briefs doing nothing to hide his incredible body in the early light.
I’m stuck staring at him as he crosses the space and opens the door, mumbling something to the person on the other side.
A few moments later, he slides into the seat at the table, placing a couple paper bags on the linoleum surface.
The smell of bacon and fried egg fills my trailer, and my stomach growls in agreement.
An amused look graces his face, setting two cups of steaming coffee down before pulling out the food from the grease stained bags.
“You comin?” he asks around a mouthful of food.
“How did you…” I start, motioning to the food in front of me as I slip into the seat across from him.
I jump when my bare feet graze his. Meeting his eyes, I give him a shy look.
His eyes are filled with humor, looking back at me.
In a heartbeat, he stretches his long legs under the table up onto my seat, caging me between them.
“I was up a few hours ago. Figured we’d need some food before we head out.
” I feel the content look on my face melt right off.
It’s not that I forgot we have places to be, a whole summer of events that will pull us away from each other, but the sudden realization that our time is ending, for now at least, stings a bit.
“Gonna miss me.” There isn’t a note of humor in his voice.
It’s a statement, an honest one at that.
Biting my lip, I look up at him from under my lashes, twisting the wrapper of my breakfast sandwich between my fingers nervously. Rule number two, Hannah! Rule number two!
“Not in the slightest,” I lie, taking a huge bite before I admit that I want to throw the rules out the window and give us a real shot.
Dean Wilder is a paradox. One that I’m not sure how I’ll ever get figured out.
One day, the thrill of being with this man, a man who is so sure of himself, such a mystery to everyone including me, will wear off.
It’ll be a story that I relive when I feel lonely.
One day, I’ll see him at events we’re both in, smile and wave, and think he was a good time.
But that’s all this can ever be. I can’t do that to my heart again, can’t let someone close.
Can’t take the risk that one moment I’ll wave them goodbye not knowing it’ll be that last time. I don’t think I’d ever survive it.
We don’t talk while we eat. Every now and then our eyes meet, he’ll give me a wink, nudge me with his toes, and I’ll giggle back.
It’s comfortable, easy. So I tell my rationale to fuck off and force myself to just be content in the moment.
For once in my life, I let go of trying to have it all planned out.
If there is one thing I take away from my escape underneath, or on top of, hopefully, Dean Wilder is to embrace the wild. Get hung up, even for a moment.
The food is gone far too soon—not that I’m not full.
Dean ordered an obscene amount of food. I didn’t realize how much this man needs to put down to fuel a body of his size.
He towers over me by at least a half dozen inches, and I’m not short.
But I feel empty as I watch him gather his clothes, sliding his black jeans over his inked thighs.
It shouldn’t make me wet to watch him get dressed, but I feel warmth flood my veins.
I should want the opposite. I drink him in, still tucked in my spot at the table.
Resting my chin on my knee, I follow him as he steps back up to my bed, bending down and tucking something in his pocket before walking back over to me.
“Where you headed tonight?” he asks as he leans down and kisses the top of my head.
He’s done that so many times in the past few days, but every time it hits me that such an intimate gesture does weird, twisty things to my insides.
The heat from his chest so close to me is intoxicating, and it takes me a moment to respond.
Standing, I follow him to the door. “Tucson,” I say breathlessly as he grabs his hat from the spot he left it last night and tips it onto his head.
He bends over to grab his chaps, and I cross my fingers behind my back and bite my lip, hoping he doesn’t notice the pink heart I drew on them with my nail polish this morning.
“You?” I ask, silently praying it distracts him enough to not look close enough at the leather.
“Scottsdale.” He opens my door and the early Arizona heat is already unbearable. Turning to look up at me, I unashamedly let my gaze trail slowly over his bare chest. I want to tell him I’ll miss him, or that Scottsdale isn’t that far from Tucson and we could meet up later tonight.
“Goodluck,” is all that comes out instead. I smile at him, but it feels out of place with how my heart feels. Dean steps down on the bottom step, putting him at eye level with me. My breath catches in my throat at the intensity burning in those gray eyes.
“No, darlin’,” he says just above a whisper.
If I thought it was hot outside, my trailer is sweltering.
“I don’t need luck, I already got you.” The way those eyes seem to cloud over with lust has me clenching my thighs together, remembering how it felt to have him look at me like that when he was between them.
The moment doesn’t last long enough before he turns and heads across the parking lot to his truck, those long legs I want to climb between covering the distance in no time at all.