Part 49 (1/2)

”I don't know.”

He doesn't flinch under my exploration of his injuries, but just stands there, staring at me like a big lost puppy. I release a chest-heaving sigh, and give his wrist a tug. ”Come on. Let's find a bathroom, and get you cleaned up.”

I lead him toward the game room bathroom, but just as I reach for the handle, the door opens and Ben steps out. He grins when he sees me, adjusting his s.h.i.+rt before I surprise him with a hug.

”I have to talk to you, but not right now,” I tell him with a significant raise of my eyebrows.

”Yeah, sure. But, uh, I wouldn't go in there.” Ben puts his arm across the doorway, blocking me. ”I had some bad tacos for dinner.”

He waves a hand around theatrically, but his efforts are spoiled when the door opens further to reveal Katerinka, the foreign exchange student. She appears startled to see us all standing there, and quickly slams the door shut. I give Ben a disgusted look. Bathroom s.e.x? Really? And with Katerinka?!

”That is not what it looks like,” Ben says, smiling shamelessly. He clears his throat. ”Use the bathroom upstairs. More privacy.”

I smile my thanks, and pull Dean away. He allows me to, remaining silent behind me. I hope he doesn't pa.s.s out on me, not before I can get him cleaned up.

I've never been upstairs before, so I pause at the landing, unsure where to go. Dean takes the lead, placing a hand on the small of my back as he guides me to the first door on the left.

I take a second to admire the bronze and gold theme of the bathroom, with tile that looks like stones, and a tub that looks big enough to comfortably fit a family of four. I should be used to rich boys and their beautiful homes by now, but I can't help the stirrings of envy when I compare my bathroom to Ben's.

Shaking my head of that shallow thought, I turn back to Dean. He's leaning against the counter, watching me with a guarded expression. I find a clean washcloth in a linen closet, and run it under the warm water in the sink.

”Are you okay?” I ask as I clean the blood from his knuckles, as gently as possible. ”These cuts don't look too bad, but we should...what's wrong?”

Dean suddenly shakes his head. He pulls away, running both hands through his wet dark hair, and locking them behind his head as he stares at me. The movement makes the muscles in his chest and arms bulge, and his damp s.h.i.+rt rides up in the front, revealing a sliver of his abs. My mouth goes dry. Given the circ.u.mstances, I should not be l.u.s.ting after him right now. But, d.a.m.n. Wet drunk Dean is hot.

”I thought you were gonna run,” he says, letting out a humorless chuckle. ”I was sure you'd never want to see me again.”

I set the washcloth down on the sink, and turn back to him. ”I thought about it,” I admit. ”That video was awful! I felt so violated. I can't believe someone was watching while we...I don't even want to think about it now.”

”I'm sorry.”

”It's not your fault, Dean.” I sigh deeply, and look up at him. ”We need to talk.”

He suddenly pulls me close, his hands on my hips. ”Later,” he says, lowering his head to mine.

”But-”

He swallows my words up with his kisses. Deep, pa.s.sionate ones that have me clinging to him like a life preserver. He turns us around so my back is against the counter. I entwine my arms around his neck and press my body closer to his. I can't get close enough, and it makes me growl in frustration.

”I need you, Juliet,” Dean whispers, trailing kisses along my neck. His hands move under my skirt, sliding slowly up my thighs. ”Right now.”

”I...”

I pull back a little and look into his eyes, seeing the torment in them. The raw intensity of his desire is scary, yet thrilling. My body responds helplessly. But it's not the restless ache, or my own wild desire that has me reaching for him. This isn't about s.e.x as much as it is about comfort and need. I would do anything to drive out that look of pain and uncertainty lingering in his face.

Dean's hands are paused at my thighs, waiting for me to decide. ”Okay,” I say softly.

That's all he needs. His grips me under my thighs, and I'm lifted onto the counter with a forcefulness that has my nerves singing with excitement. He moves to stand between my legs, and cups my face in his hands.

”This is going to be fast and hard,” Dean warns me, breathing hard.

I lick my lips very deliberately. ”Just try to keep up with me.”

His answering grin is so full of dark promise that I experience a tiny bit of maidenly terror. Eek. I should've kept my big mouth shut.

Despite his warning, Dean takes the time to make sure I'm ready for him. When he discovers that I'm all set, he seems to lose control. b.u.t.tons go flying and underwear is ripped-and I am so completely turned on that all I can think is ”more, more, more!” I thought I would let him take charge, and hold on for dear life-but I find myself desperate to consume as much of him as possible...demanding, taking...begging. I want to hold on to these desperate lovely feelings, but Dean's got me hurtling to the edge at breakneck speed.

”You own me,” he breathes in my ear, and with that one push, I go flying.

After, we stay joined together, trying to catch our breaths. My ears are ringing, and I can't see anything. I'm hoping these are temporary aftereffects, but if not...so totally worth it. Dean says something, but I don't catch it.

”What?” I ask uncertainly.

”Are you okay?” he repeats.

”Yeah, I think so.” I giggle weakly, playing with the black cord around his neck. Seeing him wear the necklace I got for him makes me smile all over.

”s.h.i.+t.” Dean bows his head. When he looks back up, his face is serious. ”I didn't use a condom.”

”I know.”

I give a little shrug. He knows I'm on the pill, and we've discussed our s.e.xual health and histories-and we both got clean bills of health from recent doctor visits. Also, it's the wrong time of month for me to get pregnant-I keep track with a handy app on my phone.

”I've never done it without a condom before,” Dean says, watching my face carefully.

”Hm. How did it feel?”

He exhales a husky laugh. ”f.u.c.king awesome.”

Sober Dean would have never said that. I smile at him, shaking my head. But my amus.e.m.e.nt is short-lived when I take stock of myself. My bra is ripped in half, and most of the b.u.t.tons on my (wet) blouse are missing. I don't even know where my panties...oh, there's part of it, stuck to Dean's pant leg.

”I can't go out like this,” I whisper, mortified.

”Sorry,” he apologizes, not sounding sorry at all.

”Well, what am I gonna do? Do you have a jacket downstairs, or something?”

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but then glances down at me with a frown. He takes my right hand in his, holding it up to the light. ”What the h.e.l.l happened to your hand?” he growls.

Oh, now that I see my bruised and swollen knuckles-it hurts! Taking my hand back, I wince. ”I hit something,” I say, repeating his words. ”I'll explain later. Right now, I just want to get cleaned up.”

Dean studies me for a few seconds, then gives a curt nod. ”I'd offer you my s.h.i.+rt, but it's still pretty wet. Why don't you get cleaned up, and I'll ask Ben if you can borrow something?”

”Okay,” I agree with a wince. ”Be discreet!”

He smirks at me before slipping out the door. I lock it after him, then with just one longing look at the tub, I clean myself up as best as I can. I dump my bra and panties in the urn-like wastebasket, then throw a bunch of toilet paper over them to hide the evidence. I cannot believe I had bathroom s.e.x! I wait for the shame to hit me, but really, all I feel is a little embarra.s.sed. And very satisfied. In fact, I can't keep the grin off my face.