Page 123 of Where We Stay

I shatter. My pussy clenches around him, pulsing, soaking his cock. He groans into my neck and follows right after, burying himself deep as he comes. We stay locked together, breathing hard, sweat-slicked skin pressed close.

His hand slides from my mouth to my cheek. He kisses me softer this time, slower. I kiss him back, still trembling. And somewhere in the back of my mind I realize this already feels like more than just sex. It feels like something I’m not ready to name yet—but I don’t want to stop.

By the time he finally settles beside me, my heart is still hammering.

“Still like teasing me?” he murmurs.

I turn my head toward him.

“Absolutely.”

He laughs. “Fuck, I’m in trouble.”

Yeah.

So am I.

* * *

I lie on my side, tracing lazy circles over Dean’s chest while his fingers move slowly up and down my back.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

“That depends.”

Dean chuckles. “See, you always do that.”

“Do what?” I ask, frowning up at him.

“Make me work for every answer.”

Well. Shit.

“I do not.”

His raised brow says otherwise.

Dean’s fingers continue moving against my skin. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but you never talk about your family. The only thing I know is that your childhood was shitty.”

And there it is.

The dreaded question about my past.

I release a slow breath. “There isn’t much to tell. My parents weren’t exactly great role models. I don’t remember a time when one of them didn’t have a drink in their hand.”

Dean’s expression softens, but he doesn’t interrupt. He just keeps running his fingers along my back, giving me the space to continue.

It should feel dangerous.

Instead, I’m beginning to believe I can trust him.

“We lived in a trailer park outside the city,” I explain. “It wasn’t great, but I made some decent memories with the other kids there. When I turned sixteen, I moved into the city with an older girl from the trailer next to ours.”

“Sixteen?” Dean’s hand stills against my back.

I nod. “No one tried to stop me.”

Something shifts in his expression, but thankfully, it isn’t pity.