Page 41 of Starting Over with You
Our eyes lock, and it’s only him and me. The music is gone, the crowd has disappeared, and all I feel is his body pressed to mine. Then his blue eyes flash with something I think I can identify, but surely can’t be real. I take in the darker ring of blue around his pupil, and the tilt of his lips. My nipples strain against the soft fabric of my bra, and I’m entranced by him.
I can’t even blame it on the whiskey.
It’s all Dean Moore.
He is a beautiful man.
I lick my lips, and I swear he tracks the movement. My pulse picks up as we move to the beat, and I’m breathing harder now than I was when we were doing the “Copperhead Road” dance.
I need to step away.
But instead, I ask, “Why aren’t you married?”
He seems taken aback by my question, but only for a second before that sly little smirk moves across his lips. “Haven’t found the one yet.”
“After Skyye, I thought it’d be Missy.” I don’t know why I’m bringing up Missy. I know for a fact that neither of them wanted the other. It was a drunken mistake, but I think I need to hear it from his lips.
Something moves in his eyes as he shakes his head, sureness in his blue depths. “Missy was never the one for me.”
His words make me feel like he knows who the one is, but how? Wouldn’t he have locked her down by now? I blink up at him and then watch as his eyes drop to my mouth. He licks his lips, and everything goes haywire in my brain. I know how his lips feel—or better yet, I know how fourteen-year-old Dean’s lips felt, and now I want to know how adult Dean’s lips feel.
Jesus above, please let him kiss me.I can blame it all on the whiskey if I need to, but I really don’t want to blame it on anything but my pure need for the man who holds me. Wait, can I kiss him? Should I kiss him? I’m in no shape for a relationship, but what if he doesn’t want that? What if he only wants right now?
I don’t know what I’m doing.
My eyes shift up to his just as he’s reaching over to tuck my hair behind my ear. “You look like you’re ready to go.”Ha. If you’re taking me to your place, yes.“Let me drive you home.”
Damn.
I blink. “I can walk.”
He waves me off. “Not if I’m here.”
Dean takes my hand, threading our fingers once more before going to the bar to close out our tab. I watch him, unsure how to handle what I’m feeling. I want this man. After all this time, I still want him, and that can’t be good. He laughs with the bartender before tucking some twenties back into his wallet. He tips his hat, dripping sexy cowboy energy all over the place before turning to me and pressing his hand to my back.
“Ready?”
“I can walk,” I try again, hooking my thumb behind me. “It’s only a block.”
He shakes his head again, his lips set. “You can either ride with me, or I can walk with you.”
I arch a brow. “I’m a big girl, Dean August.”
His eyes make a small perusal of my body, and his lip quirks, making his mustache look even sluttier. “I can see that, KenniLeigh, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you go anywhere alone.”
Once more, the need to roll over and purr for the man strikes me. I try to roll my eyes, but he just laughs as he guides me to the door. Against my ear, he urges, “Come on, darlin’.”
I’m in a little lust cloud of Dean Moore when the door shuts behind us. A truck comes to a wild stop right in front of us. Dirt and gravel are kicked up before my sister rolls down the window of her F-150 and pouts. “Shit, are you done? I snuck out!”
I laugh, and I don’t miss the way Dean’s hand falls from my back. “Yeah, I’m beat. We tore that dance floor up.”
Missy’s eyes move to Dean, a small smile on her face. “Thursday nights are his favorite nights.”
I look up at the man who has captivated me all night. Is that remorse in his eyes? “You come here a lot?”
He shrugs. “I get two Thursdays off a month, and I spend them here.”
“To get the ladies,” Missy singsongs, and Dean rolls his eyes.
