Page 51 of Secret Surrender (Harlow)

Twenty-Four

Night came and Sarah leaned against her open front door. She made a show of eyeing Dean slowly up and down as he took the few steps up to her porch. Her TV blared in the background, announcing the football game he’d come here to see, though football would likely be the last thing on her mind.

“I’m surprised you made it.” She turned for the living room, leaving space for him to enter, trusting he would close the door. She battled an internal debate over why she’d agreed to watch a game, rather than just sticking to the easy limits of this being a purely physical relationship.

“Why’s that?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She peered at him from over her shoulder, not even bothering to hide her smirk. “I figured Ally would have you tied to a bed by now, all while she had her wicked way with you.”

He gave a slow shake of his head, even though he smiled. “Your mind is even more sordid than I thought. Ally hasn’t got it for me as bad as you think.”

He kicked off his shoes.

“She’s paying you personal visits, kissing you on your landing…” She stood over him while he sank back into her couch, both arms outstretched across the back and near spanning the entire length. She tried to sit too, only finding enough space to perch on the edge farthest from him, a dull pull in her gut indicating she didn’t quite know how to feel about his clear comfort in her home. “Sounds like a done deal to me. You might just have to marry her now.”

The deflection seemed right, given her thoughts on “comfort,” not just his, but hers too.

He reached for the remote and cranked the volume, yet another sign of his ease around her. “It’s a crush. Ally will get over it.”

She grabbed a cushion and swatted at him lightly, her silent way of telling him to make room for her on her own damn couch.

He moved to the right a little, and she huddled in beside him. “You’re right. She just needs to see you hoard all the curly crisps and couch space once, and she’ll know any future between you two is sunk.”

“Is that why we’re having popcorn tonight?” He tipped his chin toward the white ceramic bowl on her small wooden coffee table.

She shrugged. “I figured you needed some variation in your diet.”

A slow smile grew on his face, those scintillating dimples making a welcome appearance. “So considerate of you.”

That hot look in his eyes, that analyzing stare paired with his deliciously wicked smirk, spun a warmth within her belly that turned her everyday thoughts about kissing him into a burning need to actually do so.

Because of that need. Because of the cold fear setting roots within her, she turned away from him and feigned a sudden urge to open the two beers also on her coffee table. “Seriously though, be careful with Ally, okay?”

An overly long silence dragged out before he tossed the remote to the table and spoke again. “Like I said, I’ll do my best.”

I killed the spark bringing Ally up again. He knows I’m holding back.

She nodded to herself and handed him the bowl of popcorn as a peace offering.

“Thanks.”

More silence, so she peered up at him looking her over a little too closely. “You didn’t have to dress up for my sake.”

She focused down at her loose, pink-and-black striped pajama pants with the tattered hem because they were just a bit too long for her. She’d paired those pants with a pale orange, baggy t-shirt.

A laugh shot past her lips. “Hey, I’ve been pouring beers all day, and this is comfortable. Shoot me.”

The smoldering look returned to his stare, and his gaze paused at her chest. “Oh, I’m not complaining.”

She should have taken the hint and had her wicked way with him, should have launched herself into his lap. But she groaned and played up her fatigue, flopping back against an armrest and propping her bare feet onto his lap.

Way to kill the mood again…

With every encounter, something changed between them, and even her evasion spoke of that change. The natural ease, despite all her prickly edges, those prickly edges mostly about everything but him.

He let her wriggle out of anything too deep. Never pestered her into being more than she was. The fact that he did only deepened the needling guilt taking up space in her body.

Her gloomy thoughts disintegrated at the heat of his large hands engulfing her feet, feet that hadn’t stopped all day. His strong thumbs pressed and ran over her tired arches, his strength channeled to nurturing.

---