Page 28 of The Ex-Girlfriend Agreement

"Trying to make him back off," I correct, even as my heart rate accelerates at the look in Dean's eyes. "He needs to see I'm serious about you."

Dean's lips curl into a slow smile that sends heat pooling low in my belly. "Well, if it's for the sake of our cover..."

Before I can respond, he backs me against the railing, one hand cupping my face, the other at my waist. His eyes search mine for a moment—giving me a chance to back out—before his mouth descends on mine.

The kiss starts as a performance, calculated and deliberate. But the moment our lips touch, something shifts. Dean's hand slides from my face to the back of my neck, tangling in my hair as he deepens the kiss. My arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer, all thoughts of Chase forgotten as Dean's tongue traces the seam of my lips, seeking entrance I eagerly grant.

A small moan escapes me as he presses closer, his body hot and hard against mine, the railing digging into my back. I can taste salt on his lips—from the sea spray or his own sweat, I'm not sure—and something deeper, richer that's uniquely Dean. My fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on as my knees threaten to give way.

This isn't fake. This isn't for show. This is raw and real and overwhelming.

He kisses like he's starving for me, like he's been waiting two years for just this moment. One hand slides down to grip my hip, pulling me more firmly against him, letting me feel exactly what this is doing to him. The evidence of his arousal sends a thrill through me, a matching heat building between my thighs.

I'm dimly aware that we're on a boat full of my family and friends, that anyone could walk by and see us, but I can't seem to make myself care. All that matters is Dean's mouth on mine, his hands on my body, the solid warmth of him pressing me against the railing.

When he finally pulls back, we're both breathing hard, his eyes dark with desire that I'm sure is mirrored in my own. For a long moment, we just stare at each other, the pretense completely stripped away.

"Is he gone?" Dean asks finally, his voice rough.

I blink, having completely forgotten the reason for the kiss in the first place. I glance over Dean's shoulder to see Chase nowhere in sight.

"Um, yes," I manage, my voice embarrassingly breathless. "He's gone."

Dean doesn't move away immediately, his body still aligned with mine, his hand still at my hip. "Good."

The single word carries more meaning than I'm ready to unpack. I clear my throat, attempting to regain some composure. "So…that worked."

Dean's hand finally drops from my hip, but he doesn't step back. "Was that all it was? A strategy to shake off your admirer?"

The question hangs between us, loaded with implications I'm not ready to face. Because the truth is, I didn't just kiss Dean to make Chase jealous. I kissed him because I wanted to. Because last night awakened something I've been trying to bury for two years.

"I..." My voice falters. "I should go check on Taylor. Make sure she's enjoying her day."

Dean catches my wrist as I try to slip past him. "Always running, Brooke."

I meet his eyes, finding challenge and hurt and desire all mingled together. "I'm not running. I'm just..." I trail off, unable to find an excuse that doesn't sound exactly like running.

"Just what?"

"Confused," I admit finally. "This is all happening so fast. You, me, this whole situation."

His expression softens slightly. "We can talk about it later. When we're alone."

The promise of "later" sends a shiver down my spine—equal parts anticipation and apprehension. I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

Dean releases my wrist but surprises me by leaning in to place a gentle kiss on my forehead. "Go find your sister. But this conversation isn't over."

I slip away, pausing at the edge of our alcove to glance back at him. He stands where I left him, watching me with an intensity that makes my heart stutter.

"Oops," I murmur, more to myself than to him, acknowledging the mess I've created.

But Dean hears me, and his mouth curves in that slow, devastating smile I remember all too well. "Anytime you want to do that again, let me know."

The worst part? As I rejoin the wedding party, seeking Taylor's familiar blonde head among the crowd, I can't stop thinking about how much I want to do it again. How right it felt to be in Dean's arms, his mouth on mine, the world falling away around us.

This is dangerous. We still have the same problems we had two years ago—my life in New York, his in Colorado. One night of passion and a breathtaking kiss don't change the fundamental incompatibility of our lives.

And yet, as I catch sight of Dean rejoining my father, laughing at something he says, I can't help wondering—what if the problems aren't as insurmountable as I thought? What if, just maybe, there's a way to have both the career I've built and the man I never quite stopped loving?

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