Page 19 of Unwrapped
“Like what?”
“Just about everything.” He cups my jaw with both hands. “Since I’m a doctor, I’d triage my fuckups in order of importance and address the most critical mistake first.”
“And that was?” My shallow breaths give the question a wispy tone, like wind rustling through tall grasses.
He brushes his lips over the shell of my ear and whispers, “Not doingthis.”
I can hardly breathe when Dean presses a kiss to my cheek. My jawline. My neck.
As much as I want to grab both sides of his face and swallow his tongue, I wait. I made my move eleven years ago. Now it’s his turn. The desire burning inside me drowns out the little voice reminding me of my history with his brother, and the fact that he lives in Boston. Associations and distance don’t matter. All that exists in this moment is the sensation of his warm lips peppering kisses on my throat.
“Jesus, Camille.” Lifting his head, he rests his forehead against mine, breathing just as heavily as I am. My heart beats even faster. He pulls back to meet my gaze, stroking his thumbs over my cheeks. “You should have beenmine.”
“You didn’t want that.”
“Yes.I. Fucking. Did.” His nostrils flare with the growled confession.
“Then why’d you push me away?”
“I panicked that night because I was afraid to ruin our friendship, but that’s exactly what happened. By the time I got the balls to confess my feelings, it was too late.” Fire blazes in his eyes. “I wanted you then, and I want you now. Nothing has changed for me. I kept my distance because I couldn’t handle seeing you with him. It broke me apart.” He swallows and rubs the back of his neck.
“Why didn’t you say something?” I whisper, blinking my emotions away before they spill over.
“Because you’d moved on, and I wanted you to be happy.”
“I didn’t move on. I wasn’t happy. It was a lie I told myself to deal with your rejection.” I clutch his shoulders, remembering my juvenile attempt to distract myself with another guy. His twin brother of all people.How could I have been so stupid?
“Camille, I—” He squeezes his eyes shut and tries again. “I’m so sorry.”
“The truth is, he was a shitty substitute. Those eight years were a cruel imitation of what could have been. No matter how much I tried to convince myself he was the next best thing, his behavior highlighted your differences. Iknewhe was wrong for me—you two are nothing alike—but I was really fucking lonely.” I swipe at an escaped tear. “I settled when I should have waited. And look where that got me.”
He meets my gaze, and the raw emotion in his eyes cracks my chest wide open. “You’re breaking my heart.”
“Well, it’s true. He wasn’t you, Dean. He couldneverbe you.”
“You’re right. He couldn’t.” He grips my shoulders and crushes his mouth to mine, seizing my lips in a bruising kiss.
Kind, gentle, cinnamon roll Dean morphs into an alpha male right before my eyes. He shows me no mercy, holding me in place while he takes what he wants. I kiss him back just as hard, moaning when he yanks me into his lap. I knot my fingers in his hair and wrap my legs around him.
Fueled by regret, misinterpretations, and wasted time, it’s a kiss to end all kisses. He urgently slides his tongue against mine and tugs me deeper into his lap. A groan leaves his chest when I grind against his hard cock and tug his hair.
He grabs a fistful of my ass and breaks the kiss. “You keep rolling those hips and I’m gonna fuck you.”
“Maybe that’s what I want.”
“I’ll give you anything you want, sweetheart.” He kisses me again, deeper this time, like he’s pouring his soul into me.
“Need you,” I whimper, dragging my hand down his chest.
He lifts me onto the countertop without breaking the kiss and stands between my parted legs. Just as he’s about to slide his hand beneath my nightshirt, Hudson walks into the room.
Mood Music: “So Caught Up” by The Teskey Brothers
Camille yelps and pulls away from me as Hudson wordlessly saunters through the kitchen. He opens and closes a few random cabinets and drawers, then opens the oven, seemingly oblivious to our presence. Hopefully he doesn’t notice the hard-on tenting my pajama pants.
“What are you looking for, Pierce?” I say, walking over to him.
He doesn’t answer, just continues staring into the empty oven.
