Part 40 (1/2)
He disappears into the bathroom, but doesn't shut the door. I catch a glimpse of him unzipping his jeans, then there's a flash of smooth tanned skin, and the sound of the shower door opening and shutting.
I stand there, listening to my heart pound in my chest. I have every intention of practicing restraint, and waiting outside like a decent hormone-infused girl-but I'm sick with need. Those hormones keep reminding my body what happened in the garage-and how amazing, overwhelming, and hot as h.e.l.l it was. My brain keeps telling them to shut up.
The hormones win. The open door and the comforting sounds of the shower running mock me. I start walking to the bathroom like I'm being pulled by a rope. Much too soon, I'm standing in front of the shower, staring at the blurred outline of Dean behind the steamy gla.s.s-enclosed shower. He's definitely naked.
Of course he's naked, dummy! Turn back, turn back!
My pulse is thudding thickly everywhere, making it impossible to concentrate. What am I doing in here? This isn't the time for-should I knock? Should I announce my presence with a loud ahem?
My hand reaches out of its accord, and opens the shower door. I inhale sharply. There's Dean, his hands braced against the tiles, head ducked under the spray of the shower...wet, sleek, so masculine and beautiful...the pure lines of his body, the curves of those gorgeous muscles. He is perfect...everywhere. I am just blown away.
Dean finally notices I'm there. His head comes up and we stare at each other, both of stunned into silence. Then he's reaching for me. ”Come here,” he says in a smoky voice.
I almost walk right in-but stop abruptly. Clothes, Juliet. I nervously s.h.i.+mmy out of my jeans, kicking free of them after a brief struggle. But then...I'm at a loss. Feeling desperately shy, I just stand there. I give Dean a helpless look-making sure I keep my eyes focused strictly on his face.
Understanding dawns on his face. Then before I can make up my mind what I want to do next, he's moving forward, picking me up and lifting me into the shower with him.
”Oh, G.o.d, it's freezing!” I shriek when the spray of water hits my skin.
He chuckles, bending down to adjust some k.n.o.bs. ”Sorry, I needed to cool off.”
The water instantly warms, turning into the perfect temperature in seconds. Dean has me trapped against the wall, with the water raining down on both of us. I imagine steam coming off my skin at the contact.
”Hi,” he says softly, caging me in with his arms.
”Hi,” I squeak. I search his face nervously. ”Um...no s.e.x, okay? Not yet.”
”No s.e.x,” Dean agrees. He lets out a strained laugh. ”Thanks for changing your mind about joining me.”
”Don't thank me yet,” I whisper, gliding my hands over his strong shoulders.
He lowers his s.e.xily sculpted mouth over mine, and I sink into the kiss. Yes, my mind screams. This is what I want to be doing. I could kiss Dean endlessly, and be content to do nothing else.
Um, well, maybe some other things, too.
My s.h.i.+rt comes off, then my bra, and I discover I'm okay with that as long as Dean keeps doing what he's doing with his hands and mouth. I love the way he touches me like he's starving for my skin, aggressive and intense. But I can feel him holding back, all straining muscles and uneven breathing. He's got all the moves, but he makes me feel like I'm the one with all the power. It's an unbelievable turn on.
Long after we're both mutually satisfied, we stay in the shower, just kissing and touching each other. Finally, Dean gets out first, realizing I now don't have anything dry to wear. He offers to throw my clothes in the wash, and I gratefully agree. I'm slightly mortified when I have to slip off my last article of clothing and hand it to him in a crumpled wet little ball. Being Dean, he doesn't say a word.
When he's gone, I turn the shower off, and wrap myself in the ridiculously soft towel he left out for me. I sit on the edge of the tub, feeling dizzy with a rush of emotions. That was mind-blowing-and I don't regret that it happened. But now I feel...ashamed that I couldn't control myself. s.l.u.tty. Confused. Guilty. Is it because I jumped from guy to guy so quickly? Like, I don't know how I can feel this way about Dean all of a sudden, when I was so infatuated with Johnny. They're so different! Johnny is wild and reckless-Dean is ruthlessly controlled and reserved. It's like they each other appealed to different sides of my personality. But with Johnny...I knew I was doing something that was bad for me, but I couldn't seem to help myself.
With Dean-I don't know. I didn't know I had all these feelings for him, doing a slow burn inside of me-until it ignited, and I almost exploded with the force of them. I shouldn't have gotten into the shower with him. It's too soon. What must he think of me?
My body is still tingling from the experience, but my mind and heart are plagued with self-doubt. When Dean comes back with one of his s.h.i.+rts for me to wear, I make him leave the bathroom so I can put it on. I'm mortified to be naked underneath, but I just cannot go commando in jeans. The seams, you know.
Dean's soft gray s.h.i.+rt smells like him, and is long enough to be a modest dress on me. Feeling mildly ridiculous, I make myself leave the relative safety of the bathroom. I wonder if Dean knew I was going to be this easy. Probably most girls are easy for him. That doesn't make me feel better.
”Hey,” I mutter, forcing myself to meet his eyes. I offer him a hideous smile.
”Hey, yourself.” He shakes his head at me. ”You think too much.”
”I do,” I admit, standing there awkwardly.
Dean pulls me over to his bed where we sit down side by side. ”Tell me,” he says simply.
And I do. I blurt out everything-my fear and confusion, the shame I feel about not being able to control myself. About Johnny and Nick. I hate bringing them up to him, but with Dean...I don't want to hide anything.
He stays quiet while I verbally puke out my angst. Only when I'm finally out of words, crimson with embarra.s.sment, does he say anything.
Dean speaks slowly, carefully. ”What happened just now was pretty intense. Maybe you're not ready for those feelings yet.”
I make a face. ”I'm seventeen, not twelve.”
A hint of a smile plays about his lips. ”Seventeen's still pretty young.”
”You're the same age,” I point out. ”And don't say it's different for a guy.”
He shrugs. ”I was thirteen when I first had s.e.x-with an older girl from town. Thought I would feel like the s.h.i.+t. I didn't. I felt nothing.” He looks up. ”It was the same thing with all of them. Once, I ran into a girl the day after I slept with her-I didn't recognize her. She cried.”
I unconsciously s.h.i.+ft away from him. ”I don't blame her,” I say honestly.
Dean nods once. ”I'm careless with people, sometimes. So I try not to get involved.”
”No, you're not!” This time, I reach over and take his hand, squeezing it for emphasis.
His light-filled eyes are unreadable and mysterious as he holds my gaze. ”Not with you. You're different.”
”Oh,” I say, and melt like b.u.t.ter. I'm such a sucker. To hide the stars in my eyes, I think of something to ask him. ”Do you regret having s.e.x at such a young age?”
Dean seems to mull this over. ”Yeah,” he says finally. ”I don't think I knew what to do with all the s.h.i.+t that was running through my head at the time, so I tried to deal with it in the wrong kind of ways. Then s.e.x became this meaningless thing I did to pa.s.s the time.”
”So...been having any meaningless s.e.x lately?” I ask casually, trying not to stiffen up to give away my sudden tension.
He pulls my hand over to his lap, turns it over, and rubs small circles in the center of my palm with the rough pad of his thumb. ”I don't want meaningless s.e.x anymore...I haven't in a while. I'd rather wait for this girl I know. She's not ready yet, but I'd rather not have s.e.x with her than be with a hundred different girls whose faces I wouldn't remember in the morning.”
”Hm. Well, I don't know if that's incredibly hot, or incredibly disturbing.”
”It's true. I have a hard time with faces.”
There is a small self-deprecating smile on Dean's face right now. I kind of want to kiss it off of him. Then I realize, I can. I lean over, and press my lips to his. He immediately deepens the kiss, pulling me toward him, until I feel myself falling into the sweetest sunlight.
I draw back, laughing. ”Why did you wait so long?” I blurt out. ”To talk to me again...to tell me how you felt?”
He doesn't react right away to my blurted out question. ”Shortly after I came back, I looked you up. I saw you around a few times, but I didn't know if you'd want to talk to me. I heard your parents got divorced.”
”Yeah,” I say with a sigh. ”It happens.”