Hannah
I listen intently as Dean recounts what happened following Mallory's attack. To say I’m shocked is an understatement.
But I can’t ignore the dark side of me that wishes I could have joined in.
Mallory. Sweet, innocent Mallory. I’m beginning to comprehend that when it comes to the people we care about, Dean and I may not be too different.
He pauses to run a hand over his chin and down his bare chest.
“Well, obviously you’re here so…what happened next?” I ask, letting my fingertips trace the letters of the words Hell Raiser inked into his pec.
He watches my fingers skate over his skin for a moment before he speaks, “The woman, Donna. Walked up to us and handed us a wet rag to clean our hands.” He eyes his swelling knuckles for a moment before tucking them back behind his head.
“The man with her didn’t say a word, just walked behind us, picked up that piece of shit, and took him away.
She took the rag, gave us each a pat on the cheek.
” He laughs lightly. “Then disappeared back into the bar.” His eyes find mine and he turns to face me, bruised knuckles stroking my cheek so tenderly it hurts.
I hum a response, tilting my chin to look up at him, his heartbeat beginning to race under my ear. “Tell me about your family.” For a moment I’m stunned, his voice laced with a rare vulnerability that catches me off guard.
“What do you want to know?” My fingers resume their leisurely path over his inked chest.
“Everything.” He sighs, settling back into the pillows, his fingers running through my hair.
“They were-everything.” I’ve kept memories of my mom and dad buried deep, but for the first time in a while I let those memories poke through the surface.
I lose track of how long I ramble for, I tell him all about our rides through green hills and open skies, how my dad would cheat at cards when I got older and he couldn’t beat me like he did when I was a kid.
He laughs at the stories of my mom and I sneaking away from church early to get a Sunday morning ride in, coming home in muddy boots with my dad waiting on the back porch.
When the memories come to an end I pause trying to put into words how much I miss them.
Dean doesn’t fill the empty space, he just holds me, letting me know that he’s got me.
“My parents showed me what true love is, what it’s like to live a life worth being proud of.
” I swallow my tears, begging my heart to let me talk about them without falling apart.
“I would give anything for another five minutes with them. People don’t understand how important family is, not until they are gone.
I’d go back and have stupid fights with them over and over again if it meant that the next morning I’d get to wake up and find them on the couch waiting to forgive me and start fresh.
” A rogue tear slips down my cheek, Dean’s thumb catches it and wipes it away.
When I peek up at him, he’s looking down at me, his own eyes clouded over with emotion.
Taking a deep breath I close my eyes and allow myself one last replay of that night.
“Just before my event I was told my parents were killed in a car accident. Queen took off before I could stop her.” I see it so clearly, feel that pain and fear so vividly it’s as if I’m back in that moment, flying through the air waiting for the impact.
“And that’s when I picked you up.” It’s a statement not a question. Like he’s putting all the pieces together.
“Yes.” It comes out as a whisper, more tears spilling onto his chest.
“I’m sorry, darlin’.” His mouth opens like he wants to say more but he closes it, giving me a soft smile before pulling me close again.
At some point, my eyes grew heavy and I slipped into a peaceful sleep.
The weight of Dean’s body around mine grounds me, making my wild heart slow down.
And for the first time in a long while, I’m happy to be trapped in one place.
I wake to the sound of the shower running in the adjoining bathroom, the mid-morning sun painted the room in a perfect golden hue.
Flipping back the covers, I stepped out of bed and padded softly across the rug towards the hallway.
Our room was tucked in the back corner of the house.
A hallway ran down to my left, opening up to the rising sun, so I took it.
As the light grew brighter and my eyes adjusted, I peeked around the corner into a massive living room.
Even though this house was just a rental for the week, every detail screamed Dean.
The floors were a beautiful dark wood, covered mostly by simple area rugs.
In the living room an oversized leather L-shaped sectional around a gorgeous wood coffee table.
The edges are uncut, rough and jagged; much like the man in the other room.
Everything about this space felt peaceful, it felt like a home.
I make a mental note of all the small characteristics I’d add to my home one day if I ever chose to settle down.
I take my time getting to the attached kitchen, every few feet hangs a large black and white photo.
One in particular catches my eye, and I have to step back a few feet just to take it in all at once.
In the photo, a woman stands in front of a brick wall, a cowboy hat tipped low, covering her face with her denim vest unbuttoned.
Her stomach peeks out between her arms and I can make out the outline of her breasts.
Not only is she feminine and beautiful, but wild at the same time.
Smiling, I make my way to the fridge, running my hands through my unruly curls.
The moment Dean steps out into the living room, his eyes find mine.
I stand behind the large kitchen island, a steaming mug of coffee paused midway to my lips.
His sweats hang low on his hips, and over the brim of my cup, I drink in every exposed inch of him.
Which is a lot. He’s conveniently left his shirt in the bedroom, but I can’t complain.
Regardless of how many times I see this man shirtless, he still takes my breath away every time he leaves it behind.
I watch eagerly as those long legs carry him across the rug and onto the tile of the kitchen floor.
He doesn’t stop and pick up the mug I’d filled for him sitting on the other side of the island.
Instead, he passes right by it, his feet stopping only when his hands sink into my hair at the nape of my neck and pulls me against him.
His kiss is tender but carries a gentle reminder of what he can offer if I just open my mouth and let him in.
Just as his tongue brushes against me, he pulls back, leaving me breathless.
With a smirk, he doesn’t walk away until he slides a hand under the hem of his shirt that hangs down to my thighs.
That rough palm that handled me with so much affection squeezes my ass, and I let myself fall into his chest, melting against his bare skin still hot from his shower.
“Thanks for the coffee, darlin’,” he mumbles, kissing the top of my head.
Just as I expected him to, this man drinks his coffee black.
Not a drop of cream or sugar is added, and it fits.
We eye each other from opposite sides of the island as we sip in silence.
Typically, I don’t do well in silence. It’s too much time to think, to remember.
But with Dean the silence between us feels blissful.
With him, my mind isn’t spinning to fill the space.
I’m not trying to impress him or hide my true self.
He’s seen all of me, and hasn’t left me.
Yet. I remind myself of our rules. Rules which are quickly becoming blurred.
“So,” I say, pulling myself out of my spiraling thoughts, “what do you want to do today?” I don’t have to be in Colorado until this Friday, which gives us a whole five days before I need to pack up and hit the road.
My skin heats as he lets his eyes boldly trail over my body.
I raise an eyebrow at him when he brings those stormy eyes to mine.
Gone is the dark rage from last night—today they are clear more blue than gray, and they pull me back into their safety.
“Thought we’d go for a ride.” Resting both forearms on the island, I watch as his muscles flex, his brown, wavy hair falling slightly over his forehead as he leans down to look up at me through his lashes.
Leaning in as close as I can with the granite top between us, I raise my eyebrows at him and whisper, “What kinda ride, cowboy?” In an instant, he rounds the island.
And just when I think I’ve darted out of his path, he catches the back of my shirt, pulling me back roughly until I slam against his chest. His arms cage me in, his fingers splayed across my stomach, one hand dipping lower.
“You keep callin’ me cowboy, and I’ll give you the best ride of your life, darlin’.
” My body trembles at the brush of his lips on my neck, the thrill of his promise sinking into my soul.
“Better make it last more than eight seconds.” I let out a childish giggle as he picks me up in his arms and carries me back to bed.