A Guy Walks Into My Bar - Lauren Blakely Page 0,39
whole body succumbs to the release.
And Dean’s right there with me, shooting into my hand, on his chest. And, when I collapse onto him, on my chest too.
I can’t think.
I can’t speak.
I can only feel.
And I feel amazing.
Like I knew I would. Because I knew from the second I met him that sex with Dean would be the hottest sex of my life.
We’re both panting, sweating, and I bury my face in his neck, inhaling his scent that drives me wild. I don’t even know what it is. It’s just his soap mixed with him, but my God, does it do it for me. I kiss him, working my way to his ear. “I cannot wait to do that again.”
“Me too, Fitz. Me too.”
He slides his arms around my lower back, and we’re quiet like that for a few seconds, maybe more.
I could get used to this. I could get used to him.
But before we get too cozy, I need to take care of things.
“Be right back.” After I ease out, I head to the bathroom, where I clean up, dispose of the condom, and grab a washcloth. I wet it with warm water and return to the sex-drunk man stretched out on the mattress.
I wipe his chest, his stomach. I dip my face to him, planting a soft kiss on his clean pecs before I return to the bathroom and toss the washcloth on the floor.
Seconds later, I’m back in bed, and I need to feel him against me. I need the contact. So I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close, his back to my chest, and I sigh.
Happily.
So damn happy.
“Stay the night,” I say.
“Was kicking me out previously on your list of options?”
I laugh. “No. I just didn’t know if you would stay. Will you? Spend the night with me?”
He shifts around to look me in the eyes. “What part of all night long made you think I was leaving?”
I shake my head, still a little too blissed-out to think straight. “I dunno. I just want you here, whether we’re screwing or not.”
He doesn’t say anything to that—just gives me that studious once-over. “‘Or not’ . . . what will we do with the ‘or not’ part?”
I wrap my arms tighter around him, nuzzling him. “This. Just this.”
“The things we do,” he says, filling in the dots.
“Yeah, the things we do,” I say, then brush a kiss to his cheek. Even after what we just did, my chest still does some kind of flip just from kissing him.
Dean slides out of my arms, shifting to his other side, facing me. “I never planned to leave.”
And my chest flips again. “God, you make me want to kiss you again.”
I grab the covers, pull them up over us, and get close to him again, kissing him in the way you kiss someone after that kind of sex, that kind of intensity.
Tender, gentle, a little wrung out from the Os.
And hungry for more of him.
Although ravenous is more like it.
In the morning, all I want is to spend the day with him, so I ask in the best way possible if he’ll do just that.
MONDAY
Also known as the day it starts.
17
Dean
On the list of surprises in my life, I would not count this—a middle-of-the-night session with the tireless Fitz.
I absolutely expected it.
Wanted it.
Craved it.
The man can truly go all night, which is a complete unshock.
And though he has the stamina of a pro athlete in the bedroom, I have an equally large appetite between the sheets.
For him.
And for our visit to the three-a.m. club, I pick the position, choosing one I quite enjoy, getting on my hands and knees. It works spectacularly well for both of us, especially when he presses his hand between my shoulder blades, pushing me down to the perfect angle.
And I conk out shortly after.
Hours later, when the sun rises and I stretch awake, he’s there with a “Morning, sunshine” that’s facetious and sweet all at once. He leans in for a smooch, and when I smell his minty breath, I shake my head.
“I don’t think we’ll do that when you smell like springtime and I’m a swamp.” A quick trip to the bathroom, where I brush my teeth with an extra hotel toothbrush and take a piss, and I’m back in bed. Then he gets his morning smooch. “There.” I grab the covers, turn on my side, and yawn. “Go back to sleep, Fitz. I’m sure you’re Mr. Crack of Dawn, but I enjoy