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Dean shakes his head, leaning his forehead against mine. "I want to, believe me. I want to, but you're not ready."
"Dean..." I whine.
He silences me with another kiss, only breaking it when I’m well and truly breathless.
"Just sleep." Dean pushes me back down and drapes the blanket over me. I watch, a little dazed, as he goes upstairs and then comes back down. I hadn't noticed the pillow or blankets before.
"I'm going to be on the floor. I'm not leaving you."
"You can't stay on the floor all night," I protest.
"Watch me."
The finality in his voice leaves no room for argument. Dean lies down and pulls the blanket over him, and the two of us lie there in silence for a long moment.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay down there?"
"Delia, if you don't shut the fuck up and go to sleep, I'm going to do something to keep your mouth occupied."
Heat flushes through me at his words, and I bite my bottom lip to keep myself from making a sound.
"Goodnight, princess."
I turn and face the couch, squeezing my eyes shut. "Goodnight, Dean."
Despite my exhaustion, it's a long time before I'm able to sleep.
4
DEAN
Delia's scent clings to the blanket. It surrounds me, and no matter how hard I try, I can't sleep. I should go back to my own room, but the idea of leaving her makes something inside of me sit up and roar. Delia makes me possessive as fuck...makes me want to have my eyes on her at all times.
My eyes, my hands, my mouth....fuck. I want to be all over her. I want to own her in every way a man can own a woman, and that possessive part of me is sure that I will. It's just a matter of time.
She's too sweet for her own good.
I can't help replaying last night over and over again. The way her body moved with mine when I kissed her. The taste of her skin. She's fucking addictive, and if I don't get a grip on myself, I'll ruin everything.
I've got to play this carefully. She's too young and innocent, and the last thing I want is to be an asshole about this. But dammit, she makes it hard. She makes everything hard, my cock included.
The light in the kitchen flicks on, and I push myself up to a sitting position. "Delia?"
Her soft voice comes from the other room. "Hey, sorry, didn't mean to wake you."
Standing, I stretch, pacing through the house to join her in the kitchen. "It's alright, princess. What's up?"
"Can't sleep," she admits. “We’ve still got like an hour before dawn, but…”
“Don’t worry,” I assure her. "Me either."
She leans against the counter, staring down at me, and I stare back, taking in every line of her face, her body. She's wearing a pair of shorts that leave nothing to the imagination and a thin T-shirt that's not covering nearly enough. I don't even know when she changed or what time it is.
"So it’s morning?"
She suppresses a yawn. "Barely. I started coffee. I hope you don't mind."
"Of course not. Come sit with me."
