Page 74 of At First Flight
“I wish you’d ask me to kiss you.”
Dean’s voice is rough silk, laced with something deeper. Something that clutches at the base of my spine and doesn’t let go. His gaze roams my face, not with amusement or that teasing smirk I’ve come to know, but with a reverence that steals my breath. There’s weight in the air now. A slow-burning intensity that simmers between us, quiet but undeniable. Like he’s a man on the edge, gripping the frayed rope of his own restraint, holding back just for me.
It’s heady, this sense that I have the power to undo him. That I could tilt the world on its axis with just one word. I’ve never felt so seen, so desired… so in control.
But then he looks away, his throat working as he swallows. “Not tonight.”
The cool air suddenly feels colder against my cheeks, which flush with heat that’s got nothing to do with the temperature.
I turn my head, pretending to look out at the darkness so he doesn’t see the sting behind my quiet, “Oh.”
I don’t mean for the word to sound so small, but I can’t help it. It’s hard not to take his rejection personally, even when I know better. Even when everything about the way he’s touching me says it’s not rejection at all.
“Lila, look at me.” His voice is softer now, but commanding. His hand lifts, warm and careful, fingers brushing beneath my chin as he coaxes my gaze back to his. “I want to kiss you more than I want to take my next breath.”
The raw truth in his eyes nearly unravels me.
“But with you,” he continues, his thumb grazing along my jaw, “I’m learning the beauty of restraint. I don’t want you to wonder if I want you. I want you toknow. I don’t want to steal a kiss in the shadows and leave you questioning it in the morning. When we cross that line, it’s going to be because youaskme to. Because youwantto. And when you do, Lila…” He leans in slightly, his voice dropping into something intimate and full of promise, “I’ll be ready. I’ll be yours.”
I don’t know how to respond. How could I? My heart is pounding like it’s trying to leap into his hands. I want to memorize every word. To fold them up and tuck them into the deepest, most wounded parts of me, the parts that have never been given this kind of patience. This kind of care.
God, whoisthis man?
I lean in on instinct, pressing my lips softly to his cheek. Right near the corner of his mouth. It’s not a kiss—not really. But it’s something. A promise of more.
His eyes fall closed at the contact, just for a second. And when they open again, I see it. That same devotion, that same longing still burning like a slow fire behind them.
“Good night, Dean,” I whisper.
“Sleep well, Lila,” he murmurs, the words brushing against my skin like a vow.
And as I turn and walk away, I can feel the weight of his gaze following me. Not possessive. Not demanding. Just…waiting.
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.
