Page 49 of The One for Me
“The only nightmare I’m having is you right now.”
“Sweetheart, I’m a wet dream.”
I swear to God. “You’re a terror.”
“You say terror, and I say angelic.”
“If you’re an angel then I’m a saint.”
Sean grins. “And we know that’s not possible.”
“Oh please!” I scoff. “I’m far more holy than you are. I’ve gone to church every Sunday since . . . well, ever.”
Sean leans back in the couch, tossing his heels onto the ottoman without a care in the world. “Women scream out to the heavens when they’re with me. Want to see God, Dev?”
My jaw drops as I stare at him. “Are you a complete idiot?”
“What?”
What? I swear men are so stupid. I slap his chest. “First, you’re telling me about the other women you’ve slept with, which is never a good idea when you’re attempting to woo a girl. Second”—I drop my voice to mimic his—“‘Want to see God, Dev?’ Was that a pickup line? Or are you really that much of a jackass with an overinflated ego?”
Sean shifts forward so fast that I jerk back out of reflex. “First, I wasn’t telling you about anything. I was merely making a joke, but if you’re curious about whether I’m exaggerating, I’m more than happy to show you. Secondly, I’m not a jackass, and you know that. In fact, I’m quite desirable.”
By the time he’s done talking, I’m almost lying down and he is most definitely on top of me.
My heart is beating so hard it might bruise, and each breath feels like it could be my last. The heat of his body and the scent of his cologne are making every cell in my body come alive with want.
“Sean,” I say as both a warning and a plea.
“What do you want, Devney?” His gaze flicks to my lips and then back to my eyes.
I want him to kiss me.God, not again.
I shake my head.
“Do you want my lips?”
Yes.I keep my mouth closed, unwilling to say anything that might lead to a mistake.
“Say the words,” he urges. “Tell me that you want me.”
The dizziness is so heavy that my mind and heart are warring with each other. I want him. He wants me. It should be such a simple thing, and yet, there is still something holding me back.
“I-I don’t . . . I don’t know.”
“Close your eyes,” he commands.
I close them, and my other senses heighten. “Now what?” I ask with my hands plastered to the sofa. I can’t touch him. If I do, I know exactly what the hell I’ll say.
“Feel.” His voice is low and coaxing.
Seconds pass, the anxiety of what’s to come next building inside me. The emotions stacking up like bricks with each tick of the clock.
Then, right as I’m about to open my eyes because I can’t take any more, I feel his lips just graze mine. The kiss is so soft, so light, that I’m almost afraid it isn’t real, but it is. He hovers there, our breaths mingling, growing faster as the ache inside me deepens.
I crave him.
I want this and us and whatever we could be.
