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Her laugh disappears when I drag my mouth along her jaw.

“Dean.”

Fuck. The way she says my name.

I pull back just far enough to look at her.

Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen and her hair already a mess from my hands.

But all I can think about is Aspen curled up in her lap twenty minutes ago.

Blair standing in my kitchen.

Laughing at my table.

Like she belongs here.

The thought should scare the shit out of me.

For once, it doesn’t scare me enough to stop.

So, I kiss her again.

Twenty Four

Blair

Dean kisses me like he’s been waiting hours to do it. Which, judging by the way his hands tighten around my thighs, he probably has.

My legs lock around his waist as his mouth moves against mine, slow for all of three seconds before whatever patience he had disappears.

“Dessert, huh?” he murmurs against my lips.

I smile. “You remembered.”

“Baby, I haven’t thought about much else.”

His mouth moves to my jaw, then lower, the scrape of his stubble against my neck sending heat straight through me.

He grinds his already hard cock in between my legs, creating just enough friction to send me fucking insane.

“Dean.”

“Quiet.” His lips curve against my skin. “Pen’s asleep.”

“Then maybe stop doing things that make being quiet difficult.”

He lifts his head, eyes dark.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

Oh, fuck me.

Actually—

“Maybe it is.”

I take control, pulling the hem of Dean’s shirt up, taking it clean off. He comes back toward me, putting his lips to my neck while my hands explore his body. Jesus Christ, are all mechanics this well-built? Suddenly I feel insecure, but the feeling flees quickly and is replaced by something else. Not desire. Not lust. Safety.