Page 83 of On the Ropes
Tabitha
The next morning, I woke to the sound of a steady, comforting thump.
I nuzzled closer and was rewarded with Dean’s hand, caressing my hair, and his arm banding more tightly around my waist. I splayed my palm over the center of his chest. His muscles twitched beneath my touch.
Thump…thump.
I opened my eyes as I realized I’d fallen asleep to the sound of Dean’s heart beating, our limbs entwined and peaceful like we’d been lovers for decades.
My brain fired off a flurry of SOSmessages. It wasn’t that I’d stayed the night—I didn’t usually have a problem falling asleep in other people’s beds, even if I’d carved clear boundaries and limits into our relationship. It was that we hadn’t done that. I hadn’t subjected him to my usual speech filled with terms and conditions, all the little ways I could control the situation so no one got hurt.
Instead, I’d let this foolishly soft heart of mine open a fraction of an inch, and the first thing I did was cling to Dean all night long like he was a raft and I was a shipwrecked sailor.
I attempted a subtle morning stretch while still trapped against Dean’s delicious body. My own was eager to remind me of all we’d done last night. I touched my swollen lips, the tender skin of my throat. Felt a burn between my legs and an ache in my hips. On the floor were the discarded remnants of Dean’s fantasy—the stiletto heels and lingerie set I’d bought in a hurry to make his dreams come true.
The man had fallen to his knees in front of me with a look of true astonishment, had used those strong shoulders to hold me up as he licked me like he’d never, ever get enough.
My ear vibrated, slightly, at the sound of the contented rumble coming from his chest. Then he turned onto his side, toppling me slightly. His dark eyes blinked open, focusing on me for a second of confusion. And then recognition.
And then that same expression of astonishment rose on his face, sending a burst of affectionate pleasure through me.
“You’re still here,” he said.
I brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “I had to see for myself how adorable you are first thing in the morning.”
One side of his mouth lifted in a sleepy grin. “What’s the verdict?”
I pulled back an inch to peruse him—mussed curls, gravelly voice, stubble on that strong jaw of his. The bed sheet twisted around his waist, displaying the breadth of his shoulders; the rugged planes of his chest; those strong, confident hands currently sliding up my thigh.
“If there was a Sports Illustrated magazine dedicated solely to being cute, you’d grace every cover, Mr. Machine.”
His reply was to pin me with his dark gaze and thread his fingers through the mess of my hair, moving it from my face until he was cupping my cheeks. Holding me still as he set his mouth to mine for a firm, commanding kiss that turned me liquid in seconds. His lips moved against mine leisurely, tasting me, with seemingly no destination in mind. I grabbed his wrists, needing to anchor myself as I let him control every breathless second.
It brought back every single minute of last night, the way he’d handled my body with a confidence that was never cocky but reverent. His teeth on the back of my neck and his deep, deliberate strokes.
The way he’d growled You’re the fantasy, Tabitha like I meant so much more to him than just a hot fling. Eric’s words from the other day barreled through my hazy, lust-drunk thoughts. It was different between the two of us. I recognized that from the very beginning.
Those frantic SOSmessages cranked up louder, even as I arched into Dean’s touch like I’d never, ever get enough.
When he finally released me from the kiss, I was dazed while he appeared composed.
“Someone’s in a good mood,” I said.
His grin was as mischievous as I’d ever seen on him. “I’ve got a thing for trench coats. And gorgeous troublemakers.”
I smiled, humming under my breath. We turned more fully onto our sides, facing each other. He reached for my leg and hooked it over his waist, pulling me flush against him. “I know it was technically your fantasy, but there was a point last night where it felt like my body had ascended onto like an astral plane. And I was levitating and orgasming all at once.”
He laughed, low and teasing. “I don’t know what an astral plane is, but I think I was there too.”
I thought he might lean in for another sexy kiss. But he merely pressed his lips to my forehead, held them there for a few seconds. The sweet, tender gesture did surprising things to my heart rate, had me yearning for a closeness I often ran from.
“My cuteness research not withstanding…it was okay with you that I stayed last night?” I asked quietly—the barest tiptoe up to those rules and boundaries.
His eyes dropped away from mine. The glimpse of vulnerability there had me nervous until he refocused. “It was very much okay with me.” He paused. “And…you were okay too?”
“Totally,” I said, with way too much excitement given the early hour. “Cuddling is a fun activity, right? And it was certainly spontaneous. Fits our work hard/play hard plan to a T now that I think about it.”
“It does,” he said slowly. “And I had fun too. A lot of it.”
