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His thumb stroked along her bicep to her shoulder and back down. The reality of Jillian in his arms asking, offering… he was a weak man when it came to her and that was just reinforced last night.
She wasn’t lying. He’d seen her in a bikini every summer for years. He’d touched her, held her, hell, they’d even kissed when they were kids. But none of that mattered. Every caress, every kiss was completely different. Not only because she was naked, because that sure as hell helped, but because he had the chance to pour every drop of his emotion into the actions.
Jillian stirred beside him again, this time picking up her head and offering a sleepy smile. Just before the color drained from her face and she scooted back on the bed, clutching the designer sheets to her chest. “I…”
Dean sat up, his arm shot out to grab her arm. “Don’t.” If she said she was sorry, if she said she regretted it, he wasn’t sure his heart could handle being shredded that deeply.
Her pale complexion regained its ivory tone and then morphed into a crimson shade. She shook her head slightly. “I loved last night. I just…” She gripped his hand in both of hers and finally brought her eyes up to meet his. “Promise me that nothing will change. Dealing with all this shit with my family has just…I need to know that I will always have my best friend. No matter what.”
She had the power to rip him in half with only a few words. But she was also the only person who could somehow stitch him back together.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Even to his own ears, his tone was slightly more vehement than he’d intended. He tempered the statement with as cocky of a smirk as he could possibly muster. “Plus you made a damn good argument to the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing. Keep that shit up and Tanner is going to hire you.”
She rolled her eyes and stress he didn’t even know he was holding evaporated from his shoulders. Everything was back to normal and he was annoying her as much as ever.
Dean bit the inside of his cheek, wanting to see exactly how far he could push it. And how much temptation he could endure before he picked her up and carried her into the shower with him. “Go get a shower. We’ve got a full schedule.”
Which was probably a mistake of the most epic proportions when she shot him a challenging glare and stood, the sheet falling from her body and taking all the oxygen in his lungs with it.
“Sure thing, Sparky.”
Even if he tried there wasn’t a chance in hell he could stop his eyes from tracking every sway of her hips and perfectly round ass as she walked away with more confidence than should legally be allowed. As soon as the door clicked closed behind her he flopped back against the pillows and scrubbed his eyes with a groan.
What in the hell was he doing?
He sprung up from the mattress and snagged the boxers that somehow were hanging from the lamp on the dresser on the opposite side of the room. He slid them on, needing a barrier of some kind in place so he didn’t run into the shower and join her. The water spray echoing from the luxurious bathroom was tempting as hell. Especially when his mind began creating images of drops tracking from one delicious little freckle to the next.
He grabbed the suitcase that was still sitting right beside the door where he’d dropped it last night and plopped it onto the sofa in the living area of the suite. The room seemed like a waste for one night, but Georgia had insisted they needed at least some time away.
And then promptly berated her husband for expecting Dean back at work Monday morning.
He rooted through the luggage until he located the jeans and casual shirt he’d packed. An irrepressible grin took over his face. This sort of “honeymoon” would probably be shot down by ninety percent of women, but it would be something Jillian would love.
Dean balled up his clothes and tucked them under his arm, resting his shoulder on the frame, waiting for Jillian to appear. She pulled the door open and jumped slightly, resting a hand on her chest, bare above the knot holding the towel wrapped around her.
He quirked a brow with a blatantly mischievous smirk, his gaze traveling up and down her barely covered body. Crossing that line with Jillian was either the smartest or stupidest decision of his life.
She smacked his upper arm and crossed the room to fish out clothes from the suitcase he’d left open on the chair. “You’re impossible.”
Dean just laughed and whistled a random tune as he closed himself in the bathroom. Somehow the steamy space managed to retain the light, airy citrus scent that defined Jillian despite her use of the hotel provided body wash.
He forced his mind to anything but her as he scrubbed himself clean and quickly dressed. He had a plan and he was impatient as hell to put it into action.
By the time he emerged from the bathroom, she was dressed in denim capris and a white top with blue and mauve stitching and cut out shoulders. It was the quintessential bohemian look she’d mastered early into her freshman year of college.
“Ready to go, Mrs. Monroe-Carlisle?” Maybe a little cheesy, maybe a little pathetic, but he really liked how that sounded.
Jillian tilted her head to the side and her gaze went from amused to stormy to something he couldn’t read in under five seconds. “What exactly do you have planned?”
He grabbed the suitcase from the chair with one hand and snaked the other arm around her waist pulling her firmly against his body. “If there is one benefit to fake marrying your best friend, it’s that he will for real know exactly how to show you a good time.”
***
Jillian
Present Day
The naked gray building looked more like a warehouse than anything else and gave Jillian exactly zero clues about what was contained inside. She tilted her head and gave Dean a quizzical look as he threw his tiny sports car into park. She had been fairly impressed that the car his parents had bought for him as a graduation gift remained as spotless and immaculate as it had when it left the showroom floor.
