Break for Me (4 page)

She slanted him a look and felt her heart freeze in her chest, for one long, long
moment.

There was something she’d meant to say. The words died, right there on the tip of
her tongue as he took a deep, slow breath that seemed to shudder through him.

She felt it echo through her as well, her skin drawing tight while heat buffeted her.

No … no … no.
Helplessly, she tried to gather up the strength to get up and walk away. This was
no good. She couldn’t do this—

“You got that look in your eyes,” he said, a faint smirk twisting his mouth. He had
the damnedest mouth. She’d had dreams about that mouth. Dreams about capturing his
face in her hands, pressing her lips to his, feeling his body against hers as she
learned how he felt, how he tasted.

Not good. Not good at all.

“It would be easier, you know.” He stared out over the street, that deep, rich voice
of his level and smooth, rolling over her like liquid gold. She felt something melt
deep inside her and she had to bite back a groan. “If I didn’t look at you and sometimes
see the same damn thing I feel. Because I know you feel it. But you ignore it. Ignore
me. That’s what pushed me. I was a fucking asshole, and I know it. That’s why it’s
not cool. So I’m sorry.”

Licking her lips, she nodded.
Get up,
she told herself. Her legs didn’t want to cooperate and even once she managed to
get
vertical, her thighs were all trembling and weak. Swiping her palms down the outside
of her jeans, she darted a quick look at him. “Don’t…” The words tangled on her tongue
as their gazes connected. “Don’t let the thing about my mom get to you. You didn’t
know. It’s okay.”

“There you go,” he murmured, turning his head, dipping it down just a little. The
heavy fall of dreadlocks obscured his face and she had the insane urge to reach down,
fist her hand in his hair so she could see him, see his face. Proud, arched cheekbones,
that fucking sexy mouth, and those intense eyes.

She had no business wanting him. A want like this scared her.

Because it
was
so deep, so strong, she made herself take another step back.

Dean just nodded. “It’s okay, Jensen. I get it. You and me, we’re not going there.
So I’ll…” He blew out a breath. “I’ll just stop.”

The words ripped out of her. “Stop
what
?”

He didn’t answer. Long fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle of Woodford Reserve
he had next to him and he rose. “I hope you can get some rest this weekend. Find some
peace.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

He paused halfway up the steps. “I can’t stop myself from thinking about you. But
I haven’t made much of an attempt to hide the fact that I’m interested. I can do better,
so I will. You don’t want to see it, so I’ll keep it to myself. Sooner or later, it
will fade.”

Will it
?

She stared at the strong line of his back as he crossed the porch, her heart slamming
away in her chest.

A knot formed in her throat.

This … this intensity she felt every time she looked at him.
That
could fade?

It was the most real thing she’d felt since …

She didn’t even realize she was moving until he’d turned to look at her.

Then she was doing the very thing she’d dreamed about.

His skin was warm against hers, the light stubble scraping against her palms. Because
that light touch wasn’t enough, she kept one palm on his face and then drove the other
hand into his hair, tangled it in his dreads. The texture was coarse against her hand
and she shuddered at the thought of feeling him, all of him.

“I don’t want it to fade,” she whispered as she rose onto her toes and pressed her
mouth to his.

*   *   *

He’d had two drinks.

He thought.

That wasn’t going to make him hallucinate.

Right?

And even if it did …

Dean groaned as her tongue danced across his lips and then pushed inside, without
even waiting to see how he’d react.

Fuck, there was no question of
reaction
.

He’d only been waiting half a lifetime, it seemed.

Maybe his entire life.

Sliding one hand down to her hip, he yanked her against him. The feel of her, all
slight angles and delicate curves, was every bit as perfect as he’d imagined.

She jumped up and he caught her, the bottle of whiskey, the glass falling to the porch.

Feeling like the top of his head was about to come straight off, he turned and pressed
her against the wall. She arched against him and through the barrier of their clothes,
he felt the warmth of her—it was a seductive, sweet heat.

This was devastation, and he thought he was going to die if he didn’t get his hands
on her.

Tearing his mouth from hers, he lifted his head and looked down at the upturned oval
of her face. Her breath came in harsh, labored pants. His breathing was just as ragged
and against his chest, he could feel the slight swell of her breasts, rising, falling.
Sliding a hand over the curve of her hip, slipping his fingers under the hem of her
shirt, he said softly, “When a man’s been dying for a taste of something for as long
as I have, it’s hard to think straight, especially in a moment like this. I think
maybe we should–”

She pressed a finger to his lips.

“I think we should stop thinking. I’m tired of it.”

“Jensen—”

*   *   *

The sound of her name on his lips, his normally smooth, rich voice shaking and gruff,
made her nipples draw tight and her knees wanted to just give out.

Fisting her hands in his shirt, Jensen leaned in and pressed her mouth to his neck.
The heavy weight of his hair blocked her and she pushed it back, taking her time,
fisting her hands in the dreads, learning the feel, the texture. His chest rose and
fell against hers, his breathing almost as ragged as her own and his body was shockingly
hot.

The warmth of him seeped into her and she shuddered, reveling in it. She wanted to
fall into him, drown in that warmth, surround herself in it.

“I spend most of my life thinking. Watching. Remembering. Waiting. I hardly ever
feel
. I hardly ever
do
.” She turned her face to his and caught his gaze.

Then, without so much as blinking, she leaned in and caught his mouth.

His mouth opened under hers. His hand came up, tangled in her hair.

“Are you sure?” he growled against her mouth.

She slid a hand down, under his shirt, dragged her nails across taut skin. “What do
you think?”

*   *   *

“I think you want to see me break,” he muttered, dragging his head from hers.

Control melted away, like it had never existed but he possessed enough sense of self
to know two very important things.

They were on the porch.

And there was enough light around that anybody who happened by could see them. Keeping
his arm banded around her, he kept her tucked against him as he fumbled the door open.

Inside, he didn’t turn on the lights, didn’t do anything but flip the locks on the
door and then flip her around, putting her back up against the door before he bent
his head and caught her mouth with his.

Hot
.

She was hot and sweaty and she shoved her hands into his hair, tugging him down to
meet her with a greedy, demanding hunger that just about took his head off.

Working one arm under her hips, he boosted her up and tucked her between him and the
door. That, he thought, was just about perfect. He angled his hips against her and
swore, his eyes all but crossing as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She arched
back, sending jolts of electricity sparking through him as she started to rock and
ride against him.

He caught her hip in one hand. “You keep that up, I’m going to come before I even
put my dick inside you.”

“We can’t have that.” She grinned against his mouth, her eyes bright in the darkness.
“You’ll just have to control yourself, Dean. I’m having…” A hot little whimper rose
in her throat before she managed to say, “Fun.”

“Fun.”

He leaned back and caught the hem of her shirt. “If this is fun, let’s see what else
I can do to entertain.”

*   *   *

Jensen thought he’d take her to the bedroom.

She’d expected a slow, lazy seduction.

Something sweet and easy and maybe she could have a chance to catch her breath.

What she got was
heat
.

Everything inside her seemed to melt as his hands raced over her. Long, agile fingers
grabbed the hem of her shirt and before she had a chance to steady herself, he stripped
it off. Two seconds later, her bra followed. She blinked, dazed, and looked down just
in time to see him trailing his fingers down the midline of her torso.

“So damn pretty,” he mused, his voice low and dark and smooth. It sent shivers down
her spine and she found herself mesmerized by the sight of his hands on her. His hands,
beautiful and so dark against her flesh, slid up and cupped her breasts.

She could feel a blush rising up to stain her cheeks red. She’d never been terribly
self-conscious but in that moment, she was. Her body was what it was—strong, capable,
not overly female.

“Look at me.”

Slowly, she lifted her head and found herself staring into his eyes.

“I think I’ve imagined seeing you naked about a thousand times now,” he said. “I didn’t
even come close.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. Fortunately, she didn’t have to. He dipped
his head. She curled her arm around his head, gasping as his mouth closed over her
nipple, hot and hungry. The rough texture of dreadlocks against her arm, the silk
of his mouth, the heat of his body. Everything else in the world spiraled away and
she lost herself to just the sensations and the pleasure.

Her feet hit the ground and she snarled as he let her go.

But all he did was reach for the waistband of her jeans. “You’re overdressed.”

Falling back against the door, she stared at him in drugged, hungry fog. A few seconds
later, cool air kissed her flesh as he came back over her, his elbows rising to bracket
her in against the wood at her back. “There aren’t enough hours in the night for what
I want to do to you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her neck, her shoulder. “But
that’s not going to stop me from trying.”

She hummed under her breath as he moved lower, pressing a line of kisses down her
torso, along her belly. The muscles there quivered and she hissed a little. He smiled
and flicked her a decidedly devilish smile. “Ticklish, baby?”

“No.” She probably put more force behind that than she should have.

He laughed and trailed his fingers across her abdomen, watching as she jumped.

“Don’t!”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I got other things on my mind. For now.”

A second later, she groaned and fisted her hands against the door. Her knees threatened
to give out underneath her.

His mouth pressed against her core and the blistering heat threatened to drive her
insane.

His tongue parted her flesh and the pleasure was a whip against her senses. Her knees
tried to give out and then his hands were there, bracing her at her hips while the
pleasure ripped through her. She caught his shoulders, stared down at his head, pressed
so intimately against her.

This was …

It was too …

She bit her lip, trying to resist the urge to close her thighs as he—

Oh
 …

She tensed and tried to pull away.

Dean caught one thigh, steadied her. “No. I don’t think so, Jensen. I just got here.”
He nuzzled at her entrance and she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from shrieking.

He shot her a look. “Now why you have to do that? I want to hear what I’m doing to
you.”

She bit the fleshy pad of her palm and despite the awful, amazing intimacy of the
situation, when he slid his tongue across her, over her,
inside
her, she couldn’t help but roll her hips against him, like she was desperate for
more.

And she was . Oh, how she was.

That felt so good …

Barely aware she’d moved her hand, she reached down, tangling her fingers in his dreads
and arching closer.

“That’s it … yeah, come on, baby,” he muttered against her, the words muffled and
raw and thick. He flicked his tongue against her clit and that felt so good, she heard
herself shriek again.

Then she groaned and tensed, because he slid two fingers inside her.

He slid them inside and pressed,
right there
—

*   *   *

She climaxed against his mouth. Right like that.

Braced between him and his front door, Jensen Bell climaxed, and it was even hotter
than he’d hoped it would be.

And Dean was determined to watch it happen again.

Again. And again. Next time, though he planned on being inside her.

Savage hunger tore through him, tearing greedy bites out of his sanity and he shot
to his feet, slanting his mouth over hers and kissing her hungrily. She went to reach
for him and he jerked away. “Stay there,” he ordered.

He had to get a rubber.

There was a box in the bathroom. He thought.

There had better be or he was going to die.

Just curl up in a miserable ball, and die.

Fortunately, death wasn’t going to happen today. There, tucked in a drawer in the
back, he found the box, one he’d picked up who knows how long ago—a quick check at
the date on the side assured him they were still good. He tore it open and grabbed
one condom out, tossing the rest of the box onto his bed as he passed by his room.

If he was lucky, they’d make it there on the next go.

If not … well. They’d have to be lucky, because he wanted to see Jensen in his bed.

His heart did one hard bang when he first walked into the living room, because he
didn’t see her—