Getting Played (Getting Some, #2)(43)

“I was . . . busy.”

“No one is that busy.”

I was working two jobs, trying to save up for a place I could afford on my own. My parents never gave me a hard time about living with them, but I knew it wasn’t how they wanted to spend their retirement years. They’d raised their kids and when I had Jason, they had to start all over again. And babies are bossy. You’ll see.”

Dean takes his glasses off and sets them on the counter. Then he gazes down at the bump between us—but there’s nothing tender or paternal in his expression now.

His eyes are heated. Possessive.

I know that look, I remember that look. I saw it above me, behind me—it’s the expression he wore when he couldn’t wait another second to push inside me. To have me, take me, make me his.

He scrapes his teeth across his bottom lip and my own lips part in answer. His eyes drag up over my breasts, my neck, settling on my mouth.

“What are your plans the rest of the night?”

I try to play it cool even though my muscles are strung tight and every cell in my body is reaching towards him.

“I’m going to get changed, get into bed . . .”

“I like where this is going . . .”

I smile. “And then I have some videos to edit. Sketches for the nursery to finish.”

Dean inches even closer. So close I can feel the heat of his chest, sense the ripped muscles hiding beneath his shirt, smell the seductive scent of his skin.

If I lift my chin and lean just a bit—I could kiss him right here, right now.

He touches me with the tip of his finger—just the tip—dragging it along my collarbone, and that soft brush of a touch is almost enough to make me moan.

“Want some company, Lainey?”

Yes. God yes. Please, please, yes.

The words are right there on my lips, waiting for breath. Because I want his company—in my bed, in the shower, here on the kitchen counter—I know firsthand how blissful Dean Walker’s company can be.

“I . . .”

My heart thrums quick and hard, and I lick my lips . . . but then I shake my head.

Because I have to be smart about this. We have to be smart. Adult. Responsible.

No matter how much it sucks.

“Dean, I think it would be a mistake for us to get involved romantically.”

His brow furrows. “Again, I’m going to go with ‘a little late for that, don’t you think’ for $500, Alex.”

“Jeopardy?” I raise my eyebrows. “Cute.”

“I can be adorable when I want to be.”

“I’ll rephrase—I think it would be a mistake for us to get involved romantically now.”

“Ah, I see.” He mulls that over. And he shrugs. “We can just fuck, then.”

My pelvic muscles clench—and my vagina thinks this is an amazing idea.

The last inches between us disappear as Dean presses his forehead to mine, stroking his thumb along my chin and across my bottom lip. His voice is a plea and a promise.

“I’ll make it good, Lainey. It’ll be so fucking good.”

And I know it will be.

I close my eyes. “You could do that? Stay unattached. Just make it physical?”

I feel his nod. “I could do that. You won’t regret it, I’m an awesome fuck buddy.”

I open my eyes—and stare into the scalding blue waters of Dean’s gaze.

“I’m not. A fuck buddy, I mean. I was telling the truth when I told you I don’t do one-night stands. I’ve had sex with four people in my life and you’re number four. I’m a relationship kind of girl. I get emotional when it comes to sex.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

“I don’t know. And that’s the problem. You literally just decided to do this with me, Dean. We’re going to be involved in each other’s lives forever—and we’re just starting out. To bring sex into that mix now is . . . not smart.” I press my hand between us, on my stomach—the feel of the firm bulge helping me focus on the right things. “It could end up being a disaster for all of us.”

Dean closes his eyes a moment, then he straightens up and steps back, tilting his head to the ceiling and blowing out a deep, frustrated breath. He scrubs his hand over his face, like he’s trying to wake himself up.

“Okay, I see what you’re saying. You’re right.”

He turns toward the door—but then changes course and spins back around to face me.

“But I’m putting this on the table . . . anytime you feel like being not smart, I’m your guy. You change your mind and want to hook up, for one night . . . or ten . . . I am up for that.” He gestures to his groin. “Literally, up for it. Just say the words.”

A giggle tickles my throat. “What words?”

“Yes, Dean. Please, Dean. Now, Dean. Supercalifragilisticexpiali-fuck me, Dean. Any combination of those will work. Don’t be shy—I’m a sure thing. Okay?”

And now I laugh—not just because it’s funny, but because being around Dean already makes me happy too.

“Okay.”

“Good.” His movements are tense and quick—horny—as he takes his glasses off the counter and slides them back on his face.

Then, smoothly he reaches over and kisses my cheek. I savor the feel of his firm, full lips—and he seems to linger there just a second longer, breathing me in.