“What’s with the tone of voice?”
“Nothing. Just not used to not having to talk you into us. This is a whole new level, even above having sex and sleeping together.”
“Oh.”
“Also not sure anyone has ever known me well enough to call me their person before.”
I blow a raspberry. “You’ve hardly told me any of your stories.”
“And you’ve hardly told me any of yours,” he returns. “But we’ll get around to it.”
“I know you.”
He laughs softly. “That’s my point. We already know what each other is capable of. Who needs the rest?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I wouldn’t kill anyone who didn’t need killing.”
“That makes me feel so much better.”
“Shut up. What I mean is, I’d be happy to never have to do it again. To never be in that position.” I hold on to him tighter. “Say the thing.”
“What thing?”
“You know what thing.”
“But you just told me to shut up. So how can I say the thing?” he asks. “Besides which, need I remind you that the last time I said it, you were very unhappy at me. And in case you haven’t noticed, that is the opposite of how I like you to be.”
And enough of his bullshit. Seriously. Seems I was right the first time. He should stop talking. I shrug off the towel and rise up on my knees, all the better to turn and face him.
He takes one look at my face and says, “You’re supposed to be resting. ‘Get her home, get her cleaned up, and get her to bed’ were the orders.”
“And here we are on the bed. I’ll have you know, I am excellent at following orders.”
“You’re the worst at being told what to do. Avan didn’t mean ‘bed’ like this, and you know it.”
For all of his fine words, Dean doesn’t fight me when I push him back onto the bed. Nope. His back meets the mattress without much of a fuss at all. I undo the buckle on his belt andhe watches me all the while. As conflicted as he might be about going against medical orders, he doesn’t make any move to slow things down or stop my hands. I can’t remember the last time I undressed someone. Though I am thoroughly enjoying this experience.
It’s like each time I touch him, I give him more of myself and take more of him for me. The button on his jeans and then the zipper. I push up his tee to expose more of his body. Such a handsome bastard. Naomi was right about me wanting to write him bad poetry. His beauty outshines the sparkling night sky. Yeah. Emphasis on the “bad” in bad poetry.
He’s wearing another pair of dark gray boxer briefs. I slide the palms of my hands over his stomach. Just reveling in touching his skin, so hot and smooth. He’s so very alive and vital to me in ways I am still trying to understand.
There’s a treasure trail of dark hair leading down from his belly button. I grab the waistband of his underwear and his jeans and shuffle them down some. Give myself room to work.
“Fine. Whatever,” he says. “Be irresponsible. Disregard medical advice and distract yourself with my dick. See if I care.”
I just give him an amused glance. “You called me your wife again.”
Nothing from him.
Seems as if his cock is thicker and longer this time than the last. Not sure how he’s doing that. Man magic or something. But the veins are engorged and almost angry looking. And raised up on his elbows, Dean watches what I am doing with such interest. With so much hunger in his gaze.
I crouch beside him on the bed and wrap my fingers around his hardening cock. He has a salty, musky taste. And the noise he makes when I drag my tongue over the wide head is so very good. I am going to be hearing it in my dreams forever.
I tighten my fist around him. It’s hard to say what he prefers more: me sucking on the head of his cock, or tracing the crown with the tip of my tongue. We both love me teasing him and taking him deep. However, his size presents certain limits. When he’s good and hard, I stop and give him a smile.
“Is there something you want to say to me?” I ask.
“Why did you stop, you evil harpy?”
