“You think?” I hop on one foot, then the other, to peel off my disgusting socks. “I’m serious. I’m not done being angry at you, so you better be waiting for me in my room when I’m out of the shower.”
“What are you going to do, spank me?”
I growl. “Don’t fucking tempt me, babe.”
“Gross,” Summer pipes up. “Please don’t discuss your BDSM sex games in front of your sister.”
I point my finger at her. “Not. Another. Word.” I glance at Tucker, the traitor who was getting so much joy out of my misery. “Please escort Summer to Garrett’s room and figure out a way to lock her inside it.”
Tuck snickers. But he reaches out his hand to her. “Come on, little sis, let’s leave the poor man alone. He’s already taken enough of a beating tonight.”
*
Allie
I’m not too proud to admit when I’ve screwed up.
Tonight? I screwed up royally. Not only did I attack my boyfriend with a paperweight, I then proceeded to call the police, because for a second there I was genuinely worried I might have killed him.
I feel awful. Awful enough that I’m willing to let Dean yell at me for as long as he wants, which is why I’m sitting at the edge of his bed just like he’d ordered.
“Look at that—she listens,” Dean mocks as he enters the bedroom.
He drops his towel and walks toward the dresser. As he puts on a pair of black boxer-briefs, I dutifully wait for a lecture that doesn’t come.
“I thought you were going to yell at me,” I remind him.
He rubs the side of his head, groaning softly. “I changed my mind. My head is killing me.”
Alarm shoots through me. “That’s not good. Should we go to the emergency room?”
“Naah. I’m fine, Allie-Cat.” Guilt continues to twist in my stomach as I watch him rub his temple. “I haven’t been hit that hard in years and I play hockey,” he grumbles. “You’re freakishly strong, you know that?”
“I know.” I offer a sheepish look. “I told you, my dad made sure I knew self-defense.”
“Well, kudos to your dad for making sure you could protect yourself. Followed by a fuck you to your dad for turning you into a deadly weapon.” He groans again. “Jesus. I can’t believe you got the drop on me like that. You’re lucky I love you, babe. If any other girl had done this to me—”
“You love me?” I blurt out.
Dean halts mid-sentence. For a second, he looks genuinely confused, as if he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. As if he doesn’t realize what he’d said.
But I heard it. Loud and clear. My heart skips a beat. He just told me he loved me.
“You just said it,” I tell him, fighting the huge smile that’s threatening to surface.
“I…” He clears his throat. “Well, damn. I guess I did.”
“Did you mean it?” When he nods, my lips start twitching uncontrollably. God, I want to smile so fucking bad right now. “I want to hear it again,” I beg.
He scrubs his fist over his chin, looking adorably uncomfortable. “Aw shit, babe. Don’t make me say it again. It’s bad enough that I said it first. That’s never happened to me before.”
The smile breaks free. It stretches my face from ear to ear. I fly off the bed and into his arms, too giddy to kiss him like a grown-up. My kisses are sloppy and overly eager and Dean is laughing like crazy as I maul him with my mouth.
I abruptly pull back. “Are you sure your head doesn’t hurt?”
“It’s fine,” he insists, and a deep rumble of delight leaves his throat when I smack some more kisses all over his face.
“Okay, good, because I think we should have sex now.” I push him toward the bed and reach for his waistband.
He’s highly amused. “We should? And why’s that?”
“Because you told me you love me, and I love you too, and you know how turned on I get by all this emotional stuff.” I’m already ripping my shirt off. “You have no idea how wet I am right now, sweetie.”
The humor in his eyes is replaced with smoky desire. “Show me,” he orders.
I ease my yoga pants off my hips. Undies, too. I kick them away and move closer. Then I take Dean’s hand and bring it between my legs. He instantly curls it over me, and I cover his knuckles with my palm, grinding both our hands against my damp core.
Dean groans, and this time not in pain. Or maybe it’s a different kind of pain. His erection tents in his boxer-briefs, a hard, long ridge of arousal that I’m dying to feel inside me.