Page 142 of The Fractured

“I promise this is far from being anything likethat,” I whispered back. “I want to be with you and take things slow.Andcontinue celebrating your birthday.”

Dean’s face fell serious — as serious as it could get while under the influence — and he took his mask back, pulled it on, and swiftly bent forward. His shoulder came to my stomach, and his arms wrapped around my thighs before I was lifted from the ground and slung over his shoulder, laughing the entire time. He then headed straight for my bedroom, one arm pinning me in place while his hand rested high on the back of my leg.

“Keep it down now, kids,” Kira called out as Dean nudged the door shut with his boot.

He crouched to place my feet on the floor and ever so slowly skimmed his hands up my legs as he stood, lifting the hem of my dress in the process, but not removing it yet.

“Vuoi che tenga la maschera?” His voice. The accent. I had no clue what he said but fuck.

Hot and bothered, I shook my head. Throat bobbing. “Sorry?”

He chuckled. “Want me to keep the mask on?”

I paused and blinked. “I—well.”

Crossing his arms, he tipped his head back and stepped closer.

Dean was already dripping in self-confidence, but the mask gave him more.

“I’ve seen the books you read, Lily.”

My calves backed into the mattress, and I sat down.

He leaned over me, bringing the mask closer to my face while his fists sank into the mattress beside my hips, locking me in place. His biceps flexed beneath his shirt, and the tone of his voice softened. “We’re gonna take this nice and easy, remember? If you get overwhelmed, tell me. If you wanna stop or go—”

“I’ll tell you.” I lay back on the covers, stretching my arms above my head.

I waited for the panic or feeling of dread to come, but none did. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was because I knew I finally had a healthy outlet for the bad memories in the form of therapy. For now, in my room, I felt untouchable.

“So, what’ll it be?” he asked.

“Keep the mask on.”

His fingertips glided lazily along my bare back.

I was on my stomach with my arms crossed under my head. The drunken buzz from earlier was slowly fading, but I was high on something else and unable to wipe the pleased smile from my face.

We had had drunk, ultra-slow sex earlier that seemed to last for eternity before we finally dragged ourselves into the shower.

Beside me, Dean was slowly falling asleep. I could feel it with the way his fingers slowed. He was on his back with the sheets sitting low on his hips.

I rose to my elbows and moved closer to him, admiring his peaceful state before I brought my lips to his collarbone and trailed light, lazy kisses up his throat, to his jaw, and then his cheekbone.

The corner of his mouth curved up until a sleepy smile appeared. His arm, already beneath me, curled around my waist.

“Happy birthday,” I whispered, and kissed the corner of his mouth.

He hummed back.

I settled my head on his chest, listening to his heart.

In a week, everything would change, and moments like this would be nothing but memories.

Dean’s hand smoothed along my back, and he murmured sleepily. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me… Which sounds unbelievably fuckin’ depressin’ now that I’ve said it out loud…but it’s true. I don’t know who I would be without you.”

Chapter 47

Dean