Page 118 of Still Beating

I nod, then lean up on my tiptoes to circle my arms around his neck, pressing my chest against his, my heart against his, my mouth grazing the skin of his throat. I breathe him in, and I feel like I am home.

And holy hell, what is that cologne he’s wearing?

Is it new?

Is it legal?

“Hi,” I whisper, feeling the way he shivers against my lips.

Dean’s arms wrap around my waist as he pulls me closer, his tension draining with mine. He inhales deeply, exhaling his doubts and regrets against my temple. “Hi.”

It’s a hi. It’s a hello. It’s a welcome back—I missed you.

We don’t pull apart right away. We savor the feel of our warm bodies melded together in a way that makes my knees tremble and my belly flutter. I try to memorize the way he feels in my arms, hard and safe, buzzing with heat and energy and undeniable chemistry.

I only step back when my toes feel like they’re going to fall off from leaning up on them for so long. I straighten out my dress, unable to hide the tiny smile that feels permanently engraved into my cheeks. “That was better.”

His smile matches mine as we stand there toe to toe. “Much better.”

“Do you want to go to dinner tonight?”

Oh, hello, word vomit. There you are.

I inch backwards just a step, my face heating up from the bold request.

Dean’s eyes flash with something playful, something almost wicked. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Ew, no. Never.” I look away, pursing my lips, before glancing right back at him. “But do you?”

“Yes.”

I grin. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

We stare at each other, enchanted and bewitched, temporarily speechless as we absorb the implication of my invitation.

A date. With Dean.

We’ve gone from mortal enemies to two people thrown into the black pits of Hell together. We’ve shared tears, trauma, angry words, and a lot of hot, toxic sex. We’ve been through it all, and yet, we’ve never gone on a date before.

Such a simple thing is filling me with a plethora of tiny sparks, like lightning bugs fluttering around inside my heart. I smile up at him—a little shy, a little nervous, a little flirtatious. “Pick me up at seven?”

Dean nods, pacing backwards with a wink. “See you then, Corabelle.”

I watch him turn around and head down the sidewalk once again, but this time, there is a bounce in his step. There is no hesitation.

This time, he knows he’s coming back.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Lily is hogging my hair straighteneras we squeeze together in my tiny bathroom. She has her own date she’s getting ready for… with Lars. The towering tattoo guy from the brewery the night I tweaked out and landed on Dean’s doorstep.

I can see it. He was dark and brooding—a little intimidating, maybe, but Lily can hold her own. I think they would make a sexy couple.

“Okay, so, underwear or no underwear?” Lily wonders, running the wand through her chocolate tresses.

I crinkle my nose. “How frisky are you planning on getting on the first date?”

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