“Allie…” His voice is husky.
“Mmmm?” I rock my hips against our hands.
“I love you.”
Those three syllables send a jolt of heat to my core. I moan. So does he. I know he felt the way my thighs clenched and the rush of moisture that must have coated his palm.
“Jesus,” he chokes out. “This love thing really does make you wet.”
“Told you.” I give him another shove and he hits the mattress, falling back on his elbows. “I’m going to be coming all over you. Like, exploding ovaries and multiple orgasms kind of coming.”
Dean reaches into a drawer for a condom, and I’m on top of him before he even has his dick out. “Love you,” he whispers, then presses his mouth to mine.
The kiss is sweet and gentle, sending flutters of pleasure through my body. His hand trembles as he puts the condom on, and our mouths are still locked when he rolls me over and pushes just the tip of his cock inside me.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and cant my hips, trying to draw him in deeper. It works. With a soft groan, he slips in another inch, then another one, until finally he’s all the way in, stretching me, filling me.
Our eyes lock in a hazy stare as he starts to move. I feel so fucking full. It’s incredible. Dean pushes a strand of hair off my forehead and strokes my cheek, making love to me in a lazy, blissful tempo that has my toes curling.
“Love you,” he says again, and damned if my entire body doesn’t sing with joy.
I hold him tighter against me, welcoming each slow thrust. He slides his hands under my ass and lifts me up so that his pubic bone presses into my clit every time he drives deep. It brings stars to my eyes. Makes me gasp and moan and writhe until my whole world centers on Dean. When my orgasm ripples through me, I have the words “I love you” on my lips.
His green eyes burn with emotion. He lets out a husky groan and sags on top of me, thrusting deep one last time. Then he says, “I love you too” as he trembles with release.
29
Allie
The rest of December flies by. Before I know it, the holidays are upon us, and I’m rewarded with three weeks of downtime, family time, and stuffing-my-face-full-of-holiday-treats time.
I’m spending the break with my dad, but I’ll be in Connecticut with Dean for the first two days. His family is heading to St. Bart’s for a couple of weeks, so this is my only chance to see him until he gets back, at which point he’ll join me in New York for our last three days of freedom.
Dean had asked me to go to the island with him, but as much as I hate turning down a free trip to paradise, I’d rather be in Brooklyn. Who knows where I’ll end up after I graduate—I need to take advantage of every second I have with my dad.
Still, I can’t say I’m not bummed when I have to leave Connecticut. Although Dean had told me his parents were cool, laidback peeps, a part of me had doubted it. I mean, they’re filthy-rich lawyers who own three houses. Hell, maybe more than three. Dean doesn’t have a bragging bone in his body, so for all I know, his family has a house in every country on the globe.
You’d never know it just by looking at them, though. Dean’s mom wore jeans and a flannel shirt the whole time I was in Greenwich, confessing to me that her favorite thing about having time off is ditching the business attire she wears to the firm. Her name is Lori, and apparently she kept her maiden name and practices law as Lori Heyward.
Dean’s dad, Peter, is equally easygoing. He did some paperwork in his office every morning, but for the most part, he spent all his time with his kids, going skiing with Summer, playing two-on-one hockey with his sons on the outdoor rink behind their mansion. Yep, they have their own skating rink.
Dean’s brother Nick is one of the nicest men I’ve ever met. He brought his new girlfriend, a lawyer at another firm, and though she was uptight at first, she was sweet once I got to know her.
And Summer…well, she’s just Summer. No filters, larger than life, contagious laughter. Sometimes I think I love Dean’s sister more than I love him.
As sad as I am to say goodbye to the Heyward-Di Laurentises, I’m excited to see my dad. I decide to splurge and take a cab from Greenwich to Brooklyn, and it’s late afternoon when I roll my huge suitcase into the front entryway and call out for my father.
I find him in the living room, wearing sweats and reading a book called The Physics of Hockey. He greets me with an indulgent smile, then fusses and gripes as I kiss his cheek and hammer him with questions about how he’s feeling. He finally cuts me off to ask about my visit to Connecticut. When I reveal what an amazing time it was, he looks slightly disappointed, which makes me frown.