Page 44 of My All American Girl

Clay shook his head like she was a fool. “It’s cumulonimbus. Sarah, thank God. Tell your best friend she couldn’t tell the difference between a storm cloud and a loud fart.”

I didn’t think they had noticed how long I was gone. I hoped not. I felt different. Changed.

“Don’t be gross, Clay.” I waved him away and refilled my glass from the fresh pitcher of beer, suddenly feeling very parched.

Clay grabbed Rolley to get his opinion. I took a long drink and casually glanced behind the bar. I didn’t see Dean. The way he’d kissed me, the feel of his hands on my body—it was something I would be thinking about later once I was alone.

I shut down the ridiculous cloud argument once it was clear feelings were getting hurt. Clay was nearly in tears he was so frustrated. I asked them what they thought of the course we’d done this morning, which elicited groans, but they perked up when I told them how I had overcome some of the obstacles. What approach I took and what techniques seemed to work for me. That led to another spirited discussion about whose methods were best.

It was a fantastic evening.

As the night wore on, I couldn’t help but glance toward the bar, hoping to catch another glimpse of Dean. But he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was avoiding me, or maybe he was just as shaken by our encounter as I was.

Eventually, Rolley declared we needed to get back to base and get some sleep before tomorrow’s meat grinder. I had a feeling Dean was going to be extra tough on us after what happened. He was going to want to drive home the point he was my superior and there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it.

We got back to our room and I collapsed into bed. I closed my eyes and I saw Dean’s face again, when he stalked toward me. I could still feel the rough scrape of the brick wall against my back. I didn’t mind if I had a few scratches. It had all been worth it.

As I drifted off to sleep, my body was still humming. I could still smell him. Taste him.

“Dean, please,” I moaned into his mouth.

“I’ve got you,” he replied with his hands sliding down my thighs.

My dream was consumed by flashes of reality and fantasy. I wanted the fantasy.

Dean was there, his gaze as intense as it had been under the streetlight. Only this time, there were no restrictions, no fear of the consequences. Here in my dreams, he allowed himself to lean into me, pulling me tight. Our bodies met with a force that held a promise of pleasure.

“I can’t resist you, Sarah,” he confessed, his voice husky with hunger. “You’ve got me wrapped around your little finger.”

“Good. Now kiss me.”

He did as he was told, his tongue swooping inside my mouth. His hands ran over the curve of my hips, igniting a fiery path wherever they touched. My fingers played with his hair, delighting in the feel of it between my fingers, coarse yet surprisingly soft.

“I should stop this,” he murmured against my lips, pulling away slightly. “We should stop this.” But his eyes betrayed his words, burning brightly with a passion stronger than any sense of duty. His hands sliding under my shirt and unhooking my bra didn’t match his words either.

“Stop trying to fight it,” I pleaded, tugging him back toward me. The scent of him was intoxicating and I breathed him in greedily. “We don’t have to deny ourselves this. I want it. You want it. We are consenting adults. Quit denying what we both want.”

“Sarah,” he breathed, his voice catching in a gasp as I tugged him even closer. His lips moved back to my neck, kissing and nipping along the sensitive skin there. I arched into him, my body seeking his instinctively.

His hands tracing a heated path down my side, slipping beneath the hem of my shirt. My muscles clenched under his touch, every nerve screaming for more.

“Take me,” I whispered into his ear, nipping at the lobe and causing him to groan in response. His hands quickened their pace, exploring more of my body. Every touch set a new part of me on fire.

His hand snaked up my shirt once again, rubbing my breasts and flicking his thumb over my hard nipple. His fingers continued their tantalizing exploration. I slid my hand between us, rubbing over his chest. I jerked his shirt up, wanting to see him. The moment it was over his head, I groaned with pleasure once again.

His body was finely toned, muscles rippling under the dim light. His skin was tanned and hot under my touch. My fingers traced the hard planes of his abs and the subtle outlines of his pecs. His breath hitched at my touch, his hands spanning over my hips and drawing me closer to him.

As I ran my hands over his chest and down his abs, he gasped, a low moan escaping from deep within. His fingers dug into my hips as he leaned down to capture my mouth once again. I pushed against him, wrapping my legs around him.

He was so hot. Pin-up quality. He deserved to be on billboards modeling underwear. This was a body that women deserved to see. They could look but not touch. I was claiming this man. I ran my hand lower, reaching around to grab his ass that was just as firm and muscular as the rest of him. His body was a work of art, honed to perfection by years of grueling physical workouts.

His skin burned under my touch. His scent filled my senses, a potent mixture of sweat and the unique musk that was purely Dean. My lips trailed down his chest, tasting the salt on his skin. He groaned in response, his fingers knotting into my hair.

“I want you,” I whispered against his skin, letting my tongue trace down his abs and over the waistband of his jeans. His muscles clenched under my touch, his breath hitching in anticipation. I looked up at him and found his gaze burning with pure desire.

In one swift movement, he lifted me off my feet and carried me to the bed, laying me on the soft sheets. I smiled up at him, reaching out to pull him to me. He leaned down, his lips capturing mine again in a searing kiss.

His hands moved over me with a sense of anticipation that sent shivers down my spine. He undid each button of my blouse slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. His fingers moved possessively over the lace of my panties, tracing the outline and making me gasp with anticipation. He slipped his hand under my panties, touching me and sending bolts of heat through me.

Just when things were about to get really good, I heard my alarm. I groaned, still feeling flushed and wet and way too turned on to face the day.