Page 38 of At First Flight (Coral Bell Cove #1)

Despite my sleepiness, I find myself tossing and turning during the night, the sheets nothing more than a tourniquet around my limbs. I should have told him to kiss me. It’s what I want more than my next breath, but I can’t bring myself to demand it.

Knowing the battle against sleep is a fight where I won’t prevail, I slip out of the room and head down the stairs.

“Hey,” Dean calls out as he walks into the kitchen wearing just a pair of boxer briefs.

The higher pitch confirms that he is not expecting to find me in the same room at 3:00 a.m., especially not wearing a pale pink silk camisole and matching shorts.

Thankfully, the glass in my hand doesn’t shatter as I nearly drop it onto the granite counter.

“My God.” I heave a lungful of air and lean forward, pressing my hands onto the edge of the counter.

Walking up behind me, Dean cages me in with his large, muscular arms. “What has you so spooked?”

His eyes widen as I turn around, my chest brushing against his arm until we stand face-to-face.

“Couldn’t put some pants on?” I ask, my eyes darting up and down his bare chest.

“I didn’t expect anyone else to be awake,” he says with a smirk, knowing he’s riling me up. “What brings you down here?”

Dean releases the counter, letting his hands drop down by my hips, his fingertip trailing along the edge of my shorts. Close, but not close enough.

“Wa – Water.”

“I’m a little thirsty myself. Hungry, too.” Dean’s eyes blaze with desire as they stare back at mine.

“I think there are some leftovers in the fridge. Brownies, too,” I whisper, and the sound goes straight between my legs.

Behind his briefs, Dean’s cock hardens, brushing against my torso, not even trying to be inconspicuous about how much he wants me.

His fingers travel up the sides of my shorts and slip under the camisole. His rough fingers feel like a torch against my skin, and I hiss behind my teeth at the contact.

“Dean,” I moan breathlessly.

“What if that’s not what I’m hungry for?” he tells me as he steps forward, pressing his body against mine. I’m pretty sure my pussy is jealous at the contact. I do nothing to hide my sudden gasp.

Leaning forward, Dean presses his lips against my bare shoulder.

His free hand joins his other as he wraps them around my waist, his thumbs close enough to brush the underside of my breasts. It’s a freaking miracle I’m able to hold myself back when every ounce of my body screams for me to take what I desperately want.

“What is it you want?” I murmur shakingly.

“I think you know exactly what I want. What I’ve wanted since I first saw you.

” Dean’s voice is gravel and heat, his lips brushing my bare shoulder, his nose trailing up the soft curve of my neck like he’s memorizing my scent.

His fingers flex at my waist, holding back like he's tethered to some invisible line.

But I’m done pretending.

No more teetering on the edge. No more waiting for permission to want something or someone I’ve already chosen.

“Dean,” I whisper, my voice low but firm. And when he pulls back, eyes searching mine, waiting for me to say something, anything, I rise to my toes, thread my fingers through the thick hair at his nape, and grip tight.

“I’m not asking.” My voice is husky. Steady. “Fuck it. Fuck all of it. Kiss me, Dean. Touch me. Right now.”

Something primal flashes in his eyes. A low groan rumbles from his chest, like the tension in him finally snaps, and then he’s on me. His mouth crashes to mine in a searing, hungry kiss that scorches away any lingering doubt.

Our lips collide, all hot, demanding, and messy, and I honestly can’t tell who moved first. All I know is that I need more.

Dean’s hands grip my waist hard as he lifts me like I weigh nothing and sets me on the edge of the counter. The cold granite bites through the thin material of my shorts, but the press of his body between my thighs burns like wildfire.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, grinding against me with a low growl. His hardness pushes against the very ache he’s caused, and my legs wrap around him like instinct. Like muscle memory. Like I was meant to have him right here.

He pulls back a fraction, his breath ragged, his eyes wild. “You don’t get to say things like that and not know what it does to me.”

“I do,” I say, pulling him closer with my legs. “That’s exactly why I said it.”

His mouth crashes into mine again, rougher this time, all teeth and desperation. And I kiss him back like I’m starving because I am. For him. For us . For every second of this tension that’s been simmering for weeks, finally breaking into flame.

My lips part as his tongue begs for entrance.

He explores my mouth as his hands reach up to cup my breasts.

Dean pauses, just for a beat, before his hands move to my waist, gently shifting me closer to him.

His eyes search mine, dark, heavy with want, but still searching for something. Permission. A flicker of doubt.

Slowly, gently, he gives me enough time to say, "No." His restraint is almost maddening, but I can see it in his eyes, the battle he’s waging with himself. He’s giving me a choice, letting me decide, still holding a piece of himself back.

But I don’t want that space. Not now. Not here. I want every second of this. Every touch. Every word.

I don’t need to say anything. We both know this is what we want. And as his body presses closer, I know I’m not backing away anymore. This is where I want to be.

When I lean farther into his touch, Dean moans as his thumbs brush the peaks of my nipples.

“I want to taste these. Can I, baby? Can I suck on your tits?”

“Mm-hmm,” I utter, lifting my camisole to my neck.

My skin shimmers in the dull light coming from beneath the cabinets. The tips of my breasts a dusky pink against my pale skin. Dean squeezes one of the breasts while leaning forward and stroking his nose against the other.

“God, you’re beautiful. These breasts?” he says as he cups both, his lips brushing against the soft skin of one. “They’re so fucking gorgeous. Are they sensitive, baby?” I jerk as he pinches one of the nipples. “Can I make you come this way?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Hmm. Challenge accepted.”

Like a starved man brought to a world-class feast, Dean swirls his tongue around one point.

It stiffens with each pass. I squirm on the countertop, rubbing my silk-covered pussy against his boxer-clad cock that perfectly aligns at our heights.

My desire intensifies as he latches onto my nipple, sucking the peak into his mouth and gently brushing his teeth against the tip.

“Oh,” I moan, and he quickly shifts to the other breast, giving it the same amount of devotion as the other.

My fingers curl tighter in his hair, holding on like it’s the only thing binding me to earth. My body trembles, unraveling under his touch, the pressure mounting until it crests in a wave I couldn’t hold back if I tried.

“That’s it, baby,” Dean murmurs against my skin, his voice low and rough. “Good girl. Let go for me.”

His words fall like embers, each one lighting another fuse inside me. I cry out his name, the sound broken and breathless, my forehead dropping to his shoulder as I cling to him. Every inch of me pulses with aftershocks, my heartbeat echoing between my ribs like a drum.

He doesn’t move away. Doesn’t rush. Instead, his arms wrap tight around me, holding me through every quiver and quake, grounding me.

He whispers against my temple, kisses scattered along my jaw and neck.

Soft, reverent, addictive. His teeth graze the delicate skin beneath my ear, and I shiver again, a fresh ripple of heat curling in my belly.

When I finally lift my head, I find him watching me.

His eyes are nearly black with want, pupils blown so wide they eclipse the chocolate brown I’ve come to crave. His lips are kiss-swollen, red from mine. His hair, thick and tousled from my grip, falls over his forehead in a way that should be illegal. He looks utterly wrecked.

And it’s because of me.

The thought sends another shiver through me. His chest rises and falls in deep, measured breaths, but I can see the restraint it takes. He’s still hard beneath the thin fabric of his boxers, the sight enough to have my mouth go dry.

Dean lifts a hand, brushing hair back from my damp forehead before gently tugging my camisole into place. He cups my face in his palms, thumbs stroking over my cheekbones, tender and full of worship.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

More than okay. I feel worshipped.

I nod, unable to speak just yet, my body still humming with the afterglow. And as he leans in to press a kiss to my forehead, I already know I’m in trouble.

Because this wasn’t just a release. This was falling.

“That was so hot, baby. I could watch you come a million times, but next time it's going to be in my bed and on my cock.” His words cut through the quiet, that familiar blend of confidence and tease curling around me like a warm blanket.

The edge of arrogance that once caught me off guard now feels like an anchor, something steady and unmistakably him.

My core throbs with the image, but before I can even formulate any response, a distraction in the form of a three-and-a-half-foot-tall child wanders into the kitchen rubbing his eyes. “Daddy? My tummy hurts.”

“I’m sorry, kiddo. Let me get you a glass of water, and I’ll come sit with you for a little bit, okay?” Dean tells Oliver, who nods and heads back toward the stairs.

Not giving me a chance to slide down from the counter, Dean steps back in, his broad frame surrounding me, one hand braced beside my thigh while the other hovers just inches from my waist. I feel caged, yet not in a bad way.

More like bound to something real for the first time in a long time.

His body heat sears through my skin, and the look in his eyes makes it clear he’s not ready to let this moment slip away.

“Give this a chance, Lila,” he says, voice low and full of something raw. “A real shot. What just happened tonight? That wasn’t just passing time.”

I know he’s right. My body still trembles from the way he touched me, like I mattered. Like I was everything. And that’s what terrifies me the most.

“I know,” I breathe, my voice softer than I’d like. “It was… incredible. I just—” I pause, searching for words that don’t make me sound like I’m trying to talk myself out of the one thing I want. “I’ve been guarded for so long, I don’t know how not to be.”

His hand brushes a few stray hairs away from my cheek, the tenderness in the gesture making my throat tighten. “You have every right to be, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Just… remember how good this can be.”

I swallow hard. I want this—him. Not just the kisses and the electric touches that make me forget my own name.

I want the connection, the emotion that settles deep in my chest like an anchor.

I cross my arms out of habit, trying to hide the chill of the fabric against my flushed skin, only for his gaze to follow, dragging slowly across my chest.

I lift my chin and meet his eyes. “We take it slow,” I say, stronger this time. “Not because I don’t want you, because I do. Probably more than I should. But I need to feel like I’m walking into this with my eyes wide open. No regrets. No second-guessing.”

The tension in his shoulders shifts, and something primal flickers in his gaze. And when his lips curl into a slow, satisfied grin, I know I’ve just rewritten the rules of this game, and we’re both all in.

Dean silences me with a kiss once more, nibbling at my lower lip with his teeth.

“We can go as slow or as fast as you want, baby. Just don’t overthink it. No need for regrets. Now, I’m going to go cuddle a kiddo for a while.” Grabbing my glass of water from earlier, Dean downs the liquid and steps back from the counter.

My eyes dart down to the erection barely contained by the boxers.

“Guess I should go throw on some pants. I don’t want to traumatize the poor kid.”

I don’t waste any time getting back to my room, though every ounce of my vagina begs me to head to Dean’s room instead.

It’s unfortunate that my brain tends to override what my body is already screaming for. I buzz with desire whenever Dean’s close. It’s like being next to a Tesla coil.

Maybe it’s time to hang up my lab coat and let my body take control for a while.