Page 3 of Lovesick

I exhaled sharply. “Boundaries.”

Dean’s chuckle was low and amused. A sound that curled around my spine and settled deep in my stomach. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to step away. If I moved, he’d win. If I acknowledged the way his presence made my skin feel too tight and my breath too shallow, I’d be right back where I started—with no defenses, no barriers between us.

I would fall right back into his arms.

His fingers grazed over my hip, the touch so light I might have imagined it if not for the way my body reacted. My stomach clenched. My breath caught. I hated that I didn’t pull away. Hated that even now, when I knew better, he could unravel me with so little effort.

Shit…did I actually know better?

“I miss the way you used to look at me.” His words were a whisper against my ear, his breath warm, intimate.

God.

I closed my eyes for half a second, just long enough to push away the memories of his hands on my skin, his mouth at my throat. The way he used to murmur my name in the dark like it was a prayer and a sin all at once.

His lips grazed the side of my neck, his hand moved to my stomach. He pulled me back against his body, and I sucked in a sharp breath as he held me close against him.

“Dean,” I breathed, unable to move.

“Hmm, there it is,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to my skin. “You saying my name like that makes me fucking hard, and you know it.”

I did know it.

That’s why I started calling himsirandMr. Rockwellagain.

“We can’t do this here,” I told him, finally able to push back.

But he didn’t move away. He only tightened his grip around me and held me close. “If not here…where?”

I sighed. “Nowhere. Dean—”

“I have to be honest, kitten. I was enjoying this. Getting the cold shoulder. You trying to stay away from me. But it’s not doing what you hope. It’s only making me want you more.”

Dammit.

I swallowed hard, trying once more to get him to step away from me. “Dean, please. Stop this. It’s not fair.”

“No?” he mocked. His hands moved upward until he cupped one of my tits. He squeezed hard, his two fingers pinching my nipple through my blouse and bra. “I think it’s pretty damn fair. You’re playing games with me, and I don’t like that. I’m the one who plays withyou. It’s not the other way around, and you should know it. Actually,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling my skin. “You do know it. And you like it. You’ve always liked it but for some reason, it’s hard for you to admit. Why is that, kitten?”

Because I was in love with him, and I hated it.

I hated how fast my heart beat for him. I hated how often I thought of him, and I hated how I couldn’t stop my feelings from growing. Even when I decided to pull away, he was still so present in my thoughts. In my heart. In my whole damn being.

“I hate you,” I whispered, my voice cracking. Too many emotions flooded my body and I couldn’t control them.

He laughed harshly, making my body stiffen. “No, you don’t.”

His hand dropped to my hip, and he turned me around in one swift move, pressing me against the counter. His eyes locked on mine, and while he had taken a step back, he was still right there, towering over my five-foot-six frame. He made me feel so small.

His jaw ticked as he let his eyes move all over my face. He watched me intently, taking in every inch before his eyes lingered on my lips. He lifted his hand and cupped my jaw, his long fingers tightening around it. “You can pretend all you want, Emilia, but you can’t hide the damn fact that you want me to keep fucking you. I can see it in your eyes. The longing, the need. You want me. And you better let me have you again, or I will make this hard for you.” His thumb pressed against my bottom lip before he pushed it into my mouth, pressing down on my tongue as he slid deeper inside. “Stop playing around.”

It was a warning. One that sent me spiral out of control. My sense of rationality disappeared instantly.

I wrapped my lips around his thumb, sucking it in more while my eyes stayed on his. He bit down on his bottom lip, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s it. My sweet Emilia.”

Something flickered in his expression. His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek. Then, slowly, he set his mug on the counter to place his hand on my hip. He knew exactly how to get under my skin. He did it all the time, even when he wasn’t touching me.

---