Chapter 35
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
DEAN
I can’t tear my eyes away from her.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” The words come out unplanned. “Stunning.”
A rosy blush blooms on her cheeks. “You clean up pretty nice, too.”
The image of her in that dress is branded in my consciousness. No matter what happens between us, I won’t forget this moment, how she looks in that dress, how she makes me feel.
How she looks at me, like I’m worth something, like she wants me.
I can’t stop staring.
“Who is John Brandon?”
Jealousy surges before my senses reclaim my brain. “It’s me. It’s a light cover. Not my real name.”
“Oh, that’s good. Dean Evans is your real name, right?” She fiddles with the slit of her dress, exposing more smooth thigh. I inhale, stepping closer.
“Yes.”
“Good. That would be really awkward, if I’ve been fantasizing about you and I didn’t even know your real name.” She grimaces, and I chuckle.
“That right, princess? You’ve been fantasizing about me?” I want her. I want to run my hands across that smooth skin, explore every inch of her.
“I’m the one asking questions,” she says, arching an eyebrow.
I snort. “As you wish.”
“Is this what you wanted to do, growing up?” Her eyes are narrowed, that intelligent focus all homed in on me.
I have to fist my hands at my sides to keep from touching her. She needs this. I’ve waited this long. I can wait longer.
I exhale.
“Yes. I wanted to save the world. I wanted to help people. It didn’t turn out like I wanted, like I expected. But I like to think I’ve made a little bit of difference.” My voice breaks a little, and I step towards her. The curve of her breast rises as she inhales, her breath coming faster.
Good. I want her to want me as much as I need her.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were discharged from the Marines?”
“I wasn’t. Not really. I left because they didn’t trust me anymore, not after Fiona.” It doesn’t even hurt to say her name, not like it used to. “I didn’t think you needed to know.”
The scent of lemongrass and vanilla curls off of June, intoxicating.
Every fiber of my being wants to throw her down on the bed and rip the fabric of that dress straight off her, watch her flush red as I fuck every last bit of hesitation out of her.
“Pierce is just the tip of the iceberg, isn’t he?”
She’s brilliant, the way her mind works, how she pieces together information quickly and with only a few details.
“Yes.” I can’t help myself. I run a rough hand down her side, my callouses catching on the fine silky weave of the gown. “You look incredible. You are incredible.”
She blushes again, and I’ll never get tired of bringing that color to her cheeks.
I want to do it every day, as long as she lets me.
“Ask me anything.” My other hand reaches her hair, where she’s shaped it into loose curls.
It’ll look damned good against the white pillows while I make her come, again and again.
I make myself wait.
The distance between us is nothing. We breathe the same air, both our chests rising and falling rapidly.
Standing.
Waiting.
I’m not sure who will break first.
“Dean?”
“Yes?” I pin her with my gaze, letting my need show.
“How hungry are you?”
Hope wells, followed by a surge of pure lust.
“Depends on what’s on the menu.” I meant it as a joke, trying and failing to maintain control. Her face falls though, and she looks down. “Are you hungry?”
“I had a sandwich. On the cutter.”
“Are you trying to tell me something?” I can be fucking patient. Her needs come first. Always.
“Do you think we could order room service?” Eyes heavy-lidded, she steps closer, putting her hands against my chest, her thumbs somehow finding my nipples. I groan as she rubs against them. “Later?”
“Yes. Fuck, yes, June.”
“Good,” she whispers, her hot gaze pinning me in place. My entire body stands at attention, waiting to see what she’ll do next. She traces the ridge of my abdomen, and she’s walking a fine line.
My control is good, but I’m on the edge.
The black lace panties were a bad idea. Seeing her ass in them, her pussy, is the only thing I can think about.
“Why?” I have to ask it. Have to make sure we’re on the same page. “Why do you want to order room service?”
She breaks away from me, and the loss of her warm body against mine is one of the worst things I’ve ever felt. The bed creaks slightly when she sits on it. She crosses her legs, the silk fabric of her skirt falling away from her body.
I want to kiss every inch of those legs. I want to spread them around my face and fucking feast on her.
“Because you promised to make me scream, over and over again, and I’d like to think you’re a man of your word.”
“I’m a fucking man of my word, princess. You want to scream? I’ll make you scream.” I kneel next to the bed. Her breathing’s gone ragged, her eyes wide and vulnerable despite her confident little speech. This woman. This woman will undo me.
And I’ll savor every moment of it.