Page 53 of Speeding Hearts

This is a bad idea.

I unbuckled my seatbelt.

You can still stop this.

Some part of me knew our friendship could maybe still be salvaged if we didn’t take this any further. But a bigger part of me didn’t care. I might have already lost him. Let me go down doing what I’ve wanted to do since the moment I met him.

Dean pulled open my door and lifted me out of the seat as if I weighed nothing at all. I wrapped my bare legs around his waist, my dress sliding back to my hips and desire running through me in hot, curling waves. He kissed me, his tongue probing my mouth, my name in every breath he took when he pulled away.

“Stella,” he said against my lips. “You’re like sex on a fucking stick.”

Somehow Dean got me to the trailer, slamming me against it, the hard bulge in his jeans pressing hot against me.

“Here,” I said. “Take me here, right now.”

Dean shook his head. “No.”

I pulled my face away. “You can’t say no to me.”

“I just did,” he growled, swinging the door of the trailer open.

I gasped, but the thrill of him taking charge shot through me like lightning.

Dean lowered me to my feet. It was a tight squeeze in here, and only a few steps to the bed. He moved forward, stripping off his shirt. I was forced to take a step backward.

“I already said you looked beautiful. But that’s not all of it. You… undo me, Stella.”

His expression was so serious my heart felt like a bird caught in a cage. My throat was thick with all the words I wanted to say, and all the words I couldn’t.

Then, Dean took me in his arms and kissed me so tenderly that whatever remnants of anger were dancing underneath my need disappeared. For once—for once in my life—I was completely honest with myself.

I loved this man.

I felt alive with Dean. Like I was whole—a filled-up being where, without him, I’d had a notch missing. A cleft only he could fill.

I was in love with Dean Hughes, and that thought scared the shit out of me.

It wasn’t safe. I was honest with myself, but I didn’t know if I could be honest with him. And it may have been clear that he wanted me physically, and at least some part of him wanted more, but I could see how messed up he was. How he didn’t let himself feel.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming tonight?” I asked, this time without the anger.

“When I feel things for people, I mess things up. I make things turn bad. It’s like I can see it happening, but I can’t stop it.” He bent down and drew his lips along my collarbone, sending a shiver over my skin. “I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you—”

There was the tiniest sting at the word care—it wasn’t love. But I wasn’t looking for love. Right? I may have been in love with him, but it could stop there. Maybe it was better.

“You’re my best friend,” he said into my ear, his teeth grazing my earlobe. Electricity shot through me, down my neck and across my back.

“Best friends don’t do this,” I said, needing to bring levity back. My heart ached for it.

He laughed, though his face quickly grew serious again when he pulled away. His pupils flared as he took me in. He lowered his hands to my hips, bunching up the fabric.

“I’ve never seen you in a dress.”

“It’s for you,” I breathed, unable to lie.

“Stella—” he began, but I shook my head.

“Don’t say anything,” I said. I didn’t want to hear him protest anymore. I didn’t want to hear anything. I just wanted him.

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