marathon.â
âAh, you got a thing for Shemar Moore?â
Dean tucked her hair behind her ear, shaking his head. âNah, not my type. Yours?â
âActually, Iâve always had a thing for Reed,â she said.
Deanâs eyebrows shot up in surprise. âThe skinny kid?â
âWhat? Heâs like a lost puppy. You just want to snuggle him,â she said, teasing.
âIf heâs a puppy, what does that make me?â he asked.
âA kitten.â
Dean laughed again, the sound rough. It didnât happen very often, so he was out of practice. âYou think Iâm a kitten?â
âMm-hm, is that a problem?â
âUsually kittens are small and fluffy.â
âBut you can cuddle kittens, too.â
âAre you saying you want to cuddle me?â he asked, surprised.
The small, sexy smile that played across her lips was flirtatious and teasing, sending a beacon of lust straight to his cock.
âLetâs eat first and see where things go,â she said.
Sounds good to me.
Chapter Six
B EING WITH D EAN in a crowded park was one thing, but alone in his home, sitting adjacent to him at the kitchen table . . . he seemed bigger. Not that she was worried about him , not when his massive black and white hell hound was in the room.
Dean had finished his first taco and let Dilbert back in when heâd scratched at the door, assuring Violet that heâd give her a wide berth. Violet chewed the last bite of her burrito, watching Dilbert as he sat next to Deanâs leg. The dog never took his eyes off his masterâs second taco, and if she hadnât been waiting for the dog to lunge for the foodâand his hands by extensionâshe might have been amused. As it was, she was like a big bucket of nerves exposed to an electric prod: jumpy and jittery as hell. Not because she was scared, at least not of Dean, but because she was waiting for what happened next.
Being that this was her first casual encounter, she could only imagine how things were supposed to progress. Did she sneak off to use his mouthwash or chew some gum after dinner? What if he didnât and he had onion breath?
Oh, God, what if she went through with this and he was horrible in bed? What if he was so small that she had to lay there and fake it? The few lovers sheâd had were okay, nothing mind-blowing, but sheâd been satisfied.
If he screws the way he kisses, everything will be fine. Relax. Maybe you need another drink.
Violet wasnât going to ask for that, though. She didnât want him to think she was an alcoholic; heâd already looked at her funny about the Breathalyzer.
She just needed to catch a break. After all the bad shit sheâd been dealt, she just wanted one night of forget-about-everything-else-except-this-guyâs-body-on-hers sex. Was that too much to ask?
She wiped her hands on one of the napkins and swallowed. âWhere is your bathroom? I want to wash my hands.â
âFirst door on the left.â He set his taco down and stood.
âWhat, are you going to follow me in there?â
âNo, I just wanted to make sure there was a towel for you to dry your hands on.â
âOh. Thanks.â
Violet followed Dean as he walked down the hallway and pulled a black hand towel from the linen cupboard.
âHere you go. Just hang it over the towel rack when youâre done,â he said.
âOkay.â As she stepped into the bathroom, she closed and locked the door behind her. Leaning back against the cold wood, she closed her eyes.
Why is this so awkward?
Then again, it didnât seem like it was awkward for him at all. In fact, he appeared completely at ease, while she was sweating buckets.
Going to the mirrored medicine cabinet above the sink, she stared in horror at her wild hair and the black smudges under her eyes.
âOh, God, I look like shit.â She opened the cabinet to block out the reality of her
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