Page 40 of Starting Over with You
My safe place.
We’ve always had a connection, so why does that feel different now?
But has it really been different since the moment in the back of that cop car? The second time. The first time, he was raging mad, but that second time, his eyes told me he wanted me. Just like they are now…
Am I making this up in my head? Do his hands feel different because we’re older? Or is his touch truly setting me on fire? Is the look he’s giving me sexier because I know what that look means? Do I want it to mean what I think it means?
Holy shit, am I crushing on Dean Moore?
There is absolutely no way.
I’m coming out of a shit marriage where I wanted so badly to be looked at the way Dean is looking at me right now. Or maybe he’s just looking at me like a little sister, and I’m over here wanting it to be what I’ve always wanted. God, I spent all these years in therapy, and still, I’m making something out of nothing.
I need to stop drinking. Or better yet, I need to stop dancing with him.
But I can’t move when his lips brush along the shell of my ear. “KenniLeigh, you’re thinking entirely too hard. This dance is easy.”
He’s the only one who calls me KenniLeigh, and each time, it causes a shiver to race down my spine. I glance up at him, loving how much bigger he is than me. “Sorry, I think I’m getting tired.”
His brows pull together, concern filling his face. “Wanna take a break?”
Not even a little bit. Thankfully, “Copperhead Road” comes on, and I know that’s his jam. He lets out a loud yeehaw, lifting his hat up in the air, and I can’t help but squeal with excitement. Then we’re dancing. It’s fast, it’s a blast, and we laugh like we’re the only ones in the room. He dips me, lifts me, and spins me around like I weigh nothing, and there is something so hot about a man who can throw you around without getting out of breath. It was never like that with Stratford. We had very vanilla sex, until the point that itdidn’t get either of us off, and then we switched to oral, which was very quick and to the point.
Between Dean’s slutty mustache, his sinful belt, and the way those jeans hug him in all the right places, I’m pretty sure there is nothing vanilla about Dean.
More like spicy red velvet cake.
Mmm…I bet he’d wreck me in all the right ways.
Holy mother of all things holy! Did I just think that?
The song ends, and Morgan Wallen’s “Spin You Around” blares through the speakers. It’s one of my favorite songs, and I feel as if the DJ is plucking songs right from my head. Or maybe I’m sex-starved, and everyone knows it.
“I love this song.”
Dean doesn’t ask. He pulls me into his arms, once more taking my hip and hand in his. I don’t even think about it; I lay my head on his shoulder as we two-step across the floor. His heart is pounding in his chest, and I know mine is just as out of whack. He moves his hand along my hip to the small of my back, pulling me in closer, and I melt into him. When he leans his head on mine, I close my eyes and take a deep pull of his scent into my lungs.
Leather and mint.
Or my version of catnip because I’m two seconds from rolling onto my back, showing him my belly, and purring for him.
“Did you just smell me?”
I snort, but I don’t look up at him. “You smelled me first.”
“I tried to be smooth about it.”
“Yes, running your nose along my hair is so smooth.”
He chuckles against my temple, then whispers, “You smell real nice, by the way.”
“I took a shower.”
His body vibrates as I grin against his chest, loving the feel of this man in my arms.
“Better than the puke you were assaulted with, huh?”
“Eh, it wasn’t that bad.” I look up, giving him a side-eye, and his face breaks into a sheepish grin. “Okay, it was bad.”
