Page 22 of Wrapped Around My Heart
Finally righting myself, I smooth my hair down and glare at said witness.
“Some guard dog you are, letting me almost wipe out and not even moving a muscle to attempt to scare off whoever is here.”
Cora yawns at me before resting her head back on the pink blanket she claimed earlier.
It isn’t until I open the door and find Dean’s smiling face that I realize how late in the day it is. The sun has almost finished its descent, casting the sky in a beautiful cotton candy collage. After their flight was delayed twice, I tried telling him that I would drop Cora off tomorrow morning so he didn’t have to drive all the way out here after traveling all day. He was adamant that hewould come, but when he didn’t respond to the picture I sent of Cora and me curled up and cozy, I assumed he was going to leave her here for the night.
But here he is, holding a box of pizza and my favorite bottle of soda, with an infectious grin spread across his face.
“Hi,” I say, internally cringing at the breathlessness of my voice. Clearing my throat, I open the door wider and motion for him to come in. “I seriously could have kept her for the night.”
Dean shrugs, slipping his shoes off neatly beside mine.
“I promised pizza. Plus, I couldn’t wait to see my girls.”
Ignoring the way my heart jumps at the way he says “my girls” with a cheeky smile, I’m offered the distraction of Cora prancing into my entryway. She does another little bark. The blanket she was curled up in is hanging off her back half and doing nothing to hide the excitement of her tail wagging when she spots Dean.
“Ah, look who finally got up,” I tease, moving around Dean to snatch the blanket from her before reaching out to take the pizza box so he can say hi to his dog.
Watching them reunite is so insanely cute that I have to walk away before I come off as a creep for staring too long.
Passing through my living room, I drop Cora’s blanket back in her spot before heading to the kitchen to pull out a couple plates and cups for us. Dean joins me, his pup hot on his heels.
“How was the flight?” I ask, already suspecting the answer.
Dean groans, dropping into one of the barstools at my island. He runs a hand through his messy curls and it’s then that his exhaustion becomes plain as day. While he tells me about his brutal travel experience, I serve us both two slices, grab the bottle of ranch dressing from the fridge, and take the seat beside him.
“You should have stayed home. I seriously wouldn’t have minded bringing her to you if you just asked,” I tell him while dipping my slice into the dressing, then take a bite.
He nudges me gently with his shoulder, forcing me to look his way. There’s a seriousness shining in his eyes that makes my breath catch, that damn smile on his face light and natural.
“That would have meant waiting another sixteen hours before seeing you, though.”
Well, shit, that is a smooth line.
I could be normal, maybe blush at the comment or deflect with some cute and witty comeback. However, neither of those things happens.
“I mean, if you wanted me to take my clothes off for you, asking would have also worked.” And before he can respond, I’m pulling my crop top off and dropping it onto the floor behind me. “Apparently, lines like that do the trick too.”
Dean’s slice of pizza hits his plate with a gentle thud before he turns to face me completely as his gaze slowly trails down my chest.
“Ya know, for as much as I enjoyed the red on you,” he starts, pushing from his seat and walking to the kitchen sink. He washes and dries his hands and continues, all while keeping his eyes on me. “Green might be my new favorite.”
I grab my napkin, wiping the pizza grease off my hands before resting my elbows on the countertop and leaning forward with a smirk.
“Then you’re gonna love it when I tell you it’s part of a matching set.”
The sound he makes sends a shot of excitement through my whole body. Dean stalks back to my side of the island, his darkened eyes never leaving me. I twist in my seat to keep him in my sights as well, ending up trapped by him with my back to the counter.
He leans forward, placing a hand on each side of my body, and smirks.
“You know, I didn’t come here tonight with the intention of getting you to remove your clothes.”
Swallowing thickly, I drag a finger slowly up the length of his muscular arm.
“Do you want me to put my shirt back on?” I bat my eyelashes, pushing my chest out so it brushes against him.
“Fuck no.”
