One Lucky Hero (7 page)

“Sure. Coffee would be great.”

D
EAN LED HER
down the hallway with his hand still on her hip, enjoying the soft swell beneath his palm. He noticed that she had tried to tame her wild hair and the black smudges under her eyes were gone, and it made him smile. His sisters had once told him that if a woman primped around a man, it meant she was interested.

Wait, isn't interested a bad thing? What happened to not getting involved?

Dean's smile slipped. Since he'd been in Sacramento, he'd hooked up with a few women, but he'd never been concerned that it might get complicated. Mostly because, although there was always an initial attraction, they never did a lot of talking. Those occasions were under more obvious circumstances, too—like at a bar after several rounds.

But with Violet, they'd actually talked a little and flirted a lot. Despite his best intentions, he had a hard time putting her in the same box as other women. He hadn't asked her to come home with him just because she had been interested and available.

It was because of
her
. The undeniable chemistry between them that drew him closer and yet set off alarm bells. Sure, the sex might be fantastic, but what happened when they were done?

Stop worrying about what if, man, and concentrate on what's happening now. Day by day, that's all you can do.

But he liked the way she fit against him, his hand resting on the curve of her hip. He could tell she was nervous, too, but whether it was because she was second-guessing her decision to come home with him or because she was waiting for him to make his move, he couldn't tell.

“How do you take your coffee?” he asked.

“Creamer if you have it, milk and sugar if you don't.”

“You got it.” He released her reluctantly and headed toward the kitchen. “Have a seat on the couch while I make it.”

“Your dog appears to be guarding the couch.”

Dean glanced over to where Dilbert lay on the floor in front of the couch, his tail whacking the ground lazily as he met Dean's gaze. “He's not guarding, he's resting.”

Violet shot him a doubting look, and he sighed. “Come on, Dil.”

The dog grunted at him, his tail thumping harder.

“Come on, dude, I'll get you a bone.”

Dilbert's ears twitched at the mention of a bone, but he still didn't budge.

Dean gave Violet an exasperated look. “Do you see? He's a sloth. Not even food will motivate him. Does that really look like a dog about to rip your throat out?”

Violet sat at the counter, her jaw clenched. “You don't need to make fun of me. Have you ever been attacked by a dog?”

“Yeah, I've been chased by a few of them,” he said.

Violet lifted her leg onto the kitchen counter and turned it. He stepped closer to see the round, pale scars she was pointing at. “This is from a dog attack, so pardon me if I'm a little cautious.”

Dean slid his hand over the smooth, soft skin of her leg, his rough thumb scraping along the way. As his gaze met hers, he tried to put himself in her shoes.

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

At ten years old, he'd been afraid of their basement, but it wasn't the same thing. The fear of being chased, of running for your life and thinking that these might be your last moments was something he could relate to as a grown man, but as a child . . .

Damn, he felt like an ass for making light of her fear. Just because Dilbert was a nice dog didn't mean they all were, that was true. He'd been a heel to not respect her genuine concern.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I shouldn't have brushed off your feelings about dogs. I'll go ahead and crate him for the night.”

Grabbing a bone from the cupboard, Dean called Dilbert over to his large plastic crate. Inside was a plush bed and the stuffed duck that Dean had grabbed during their first trip to PetSmart. Dilbert came to his feet, stretching his back legs and then his front. Slowly, he took a few steps toward Dean, and when he finally walked into the crate, he lay down with a huff. Dean handed him the bone, and the large jaws opened, gently pulling the treat away. As he closed the door, he caught Violet watching them pensively.

“I thought he might try to take your hand off,” she said.

“No, he's got a really soft mouth. Guess it comes with the lazy package.”

“I'm sorry,” she blurted. “You shouldn't have to crate your dog for me. Maybe we should just call it a night. I could call a cab or Tracy . . . ”

Dean stood in front of the sink, washing his hands as he waited for her to stop rambling. When she finally trailed off, he turned to face her, keeping his expression blank, although he was more than disappointed at the thought of her walking out the door. “Do you want to leave?”

Her cheeks turned red as she looked down. “No, I just feel bad.”

“He'll be fine for one night. I don't use the crate as a punishment, so he doesn't look at it that way. Relax.”

Dean turned back to making coffee, and a few seconds ticked by before Violet spoke again. “Did you really mean that whole friends-with-benefits thing, or were you just messing around?”

Dean rested his hands on the counter, weighing exactly how to answer. She hadn't taken him seriously before, but he wanted her. Bad. Their initial jolt of attraction was what made him try to scare her off in the first place, but somehow she'd managed to override all of his common sense. Now, he had her in his house, asking him what he wanted . . .

And there was a good chance she was going to walk out that door anyway, no matter what she'd told him. Still, he owed her honesty.

Slowly he turned around to face her, leaning back against the counter. “Actually, I did mean it. It's all I'm looking for. I don't plan on being in town much longer, and I don't want to hurt you or anyone else when we say good-bye.”

She didn't say anything, just watched him, and he could see the gears in her head turning.

“Would this be a one-time thing, or would we just hook up whenever the mood struck?”

He couldn't believe she was actually considering this. “It's up to you.”

“You're right. How do I know you're even worth a second go-round?”

Dean's jaw hit the floor as indignation shot through him. “I can't believe you just said that.”

“I thought you were all about honesty. And honestly, I'm not sure I'm ready to say yes to
any
kind of relationship until I see what you can do.”

The coffeepot dinged behind him. “Well then, why don't we just see where the night takes us?”

“One last question,” she said. “If we were to enter into a friends-with-benefits arrangement, would we have other friends as well, or just each other?”

This is getting too fucking complicated.

“Why don't we save that question for after your test drive?” He smirked when her cheeks caught fire. “You know, for someone who clearly knows what she wants, you tend to get embarrassed by frank discussions.”

“I may not want something serious, but I've never really considered anything like this, either.”

“Would it surprise you if I said this was a first for me, too?” He pulled two mugs down from the cupboard, already knowing what her answer would be.

“Actually, yes it would. I thought all guys wanted an FWB relationship.”

Dean poured the coffee with a smile. “From what I've heard, it's a lot of work and it's not as easy as it sounds. Despite everyone's best intentions, it's hard to separate feelings during sex.” He turned with her doctored coffee in one hand, still smirking. “Especially great sex.”

“See, if you keep pumping yourself up like that, I'm going to go into this with high expectations. I'll expect God-like endurance and a penis the size of a Buick.”

Dean almost made a joke about being called God during sex, but the last thing he wanted was to turn her off by being crass. “Here you go,” he said, handing her the mug. “Wanna take this to the couch now?”

“Sure, thanks.”

Dean sat down on the couch beside her and took a drink of the dark, bitter liquid. “Well, I can tell you right now, it's not as big as a car, but I think you'll be happy.” He noticed her grimace as she tried her drink. “Too strong?”

“No, it's great,” she said.

“Liar.” He smiled to let her know he was teasing, and she laughed, a rich, husky sound that drew his gaze to the pale skin of her throat. The thought of kissing her as she laughed, feeling that vibration of joy against his mouth, left his dick straining against the front of his shorts, and he twisted around to face her so his hard-on wasn't as noticeable.

When her laughter subsided, a sheepish grin still stretched across her pink lips. “Fine, it tastes like mud with a hint of sugar.”

“Ouch. Already criticizing my culinary skills?”

Violet set the cup on the coffee table and settled back into the couch, her hand resting a few inches from his leg. “Is coffee-making considered a skill?”

Dean shifted his body until the top of her hand touched the khaki of his cargo shorts. Fine, so it was a middle-school move, but it worked. Her hand turned over, and he felt the light glide of her fingers through the fabric.

“Since the rest of my cooking consists of protein shakes and TV dinners, I'm going to count it.”

Her hand stilled on his thigh, and she looked at him doubtfully. “That's all you eat? You never cook?”

“Sometime the guys and I will barbeque some steaks or hamburgers, but otherwise, why go to all the trouble of cooking for just me?”

“Because you can't live on shakes and crap. Cooking is fun, even if it is just you.”

The way she talked about it, her voice filled with excitement and passion, made him want to keep her talking. He liked her animated; it made her shine brighter.

“Do you cook?” he asked.

“Yeah, I can cook.”

“Then maybe I'll just hire you to make me casseroles or something.”

“Ha, or you could take a cooking class and learn to do it yourself,” she said.

“Or you could just teach me.” He was never this easygoing with a woman he hardly knew, but there was something about Violet that was warm and welcoming. Someone he could easily like and admire, on top of desire. It was why he'd suggested the friends-with-benefits arrangement. If it was going to be a frequent occurrence, there needed to be some level of trust to go along with the wanting, and being this comfortable with Violet was definitely a plus.

Just as long as their emotions stayed in check.

“Now?”

“Now what?” He'd been distracted by his deep thoughts and the adorable freckles on her nose.

Now her hand rested just above his knee, and she looked confused. “You want me to teach you to cook now?”

His arm stretched along the back of the couch and his fingers itched to dance along the smooth skin of her shoulder. “Nah, I don't even think I have anything besides frozen burritos.”

Before he could make a move, though, Violet wrinkled the bridge of her nose and stood up. “Gross.” Dean gaze followed the swing of her hips as she walked over to the kitchen. When she opened the fridge, she studied his shelves and tsked. “This is a travesty. All of your meals are liquid.”

“But they're healthy. The green one is kale.”

Violet made a disgusted face. “No one likes the taste of kale.”

“They add lemon to mask the flavor.”

Next she checked his freezer and pulled out one of his TV dinners with a laugh. “How is Marie Callender's chicken pot pie healthy?”

“Hey, it's got vegetables in it!”

She shut the freezer door with a thud and came back to the couch. This time, she sat down closer, and he adjusted so that the sides of their bodies met and pressed together.

Her hand cupped the side of his face, and he turned to look into her warm brown eyes.

“Just for future reference, if there is a next time, I like to eat real food. I'll even include a cooking lesson if you provide me with ingredients.” Her hand dropped, but his cheek still burned from her touch. The only tasty thing he was craving was her mouth. “All contingent on how the first time goes, of course.”

Dean hoped like hell he wasn't misreading the invitation in her eyes, but then he stopped thinking as he cupped the back of her neck with his hand.

“Speaking of firsts . . . ” he murmured.

V
IOLET
'
S HEART SLAMMED
, sputtered, and vaulted as Dean's mouth dipped down, covering hers with lips as soft as cotton. She opened under him, and his tongue swept inside, deepening the kiss until her toes actually curled.

Her hands slid over his back, digging into the muscles before she looped her arms around his neck. Every nerve ending was going haywire as Dean's hands slipped down her back until he was cupping her ass, squeezing her cheeks as he stood up, lifting her with him. She yipped in surprise against his mouth and pulled away, gazing down at him as his hands supported her, pressing her to his body like he wanted them to fuse together.

“Wrap your legs around me.”

She did so, squeezing him with her thighs. Dean nipped the column of her throat, the graze of his teeth like a shock.

“I want to taste every inch of you.” His deep, rich voice was rough and utterly delicious as it vibrated against her neck.

“Oh . . . ” A breathy moan escaped her before his mouth was back over hers. Violet returned his hungry kisses, opening one eye as he started moving. He carried her down the hallway to his bedroom, and she hardly had time to study her surroundings before he set her on the bed.

“Lights on or off?”

Violet stared at him towering above her, his hands gathering the bottom of his T-shirt. He brought it up and over his head, revealing washboard abs and a chest that would put The Rock to shame. Violet forgot what the question was, what she had for breakfast . . . Hell, that body would make any woman forget her own name.

“I don't know.”

“On it is.”

Dean dropped to his knees in front of her, spread her knees, and slid his hands under the legs of her shorts, pushing the fabric up. Bending his head, he placed his mouth on her inner thigh and sucked hard.

Violet had never imagined that sucking could be hot. Anytime her past boyfriends had ever tried, she'd been too worried about hickeys or other visible marks. But the quick, intense pressure of Dean's mouth on such a sensitive place made her back arch and her inner muscles clench. He released her flesh, kissing the spot softly before he sat back with a grin and reached for the button of her shorts.

It took Dean just a few seconds to slip her shorts down over her hips and thighs, tossing them aside with a flick of his wrist.

Waiting for his next move, Violet trembled with anticipation. When he crawled between her legs once more, she gripped the bedspread in her hands, staring up at the ceiling as his mouth traveled higher on her thighs. At every pull on her skin, she wanted to beg him to never stop the soft, feathery kisses sending lightning bolts of pleasure through her body.

As the heat of Dean's breath burned her through the cotton of her panties, she started to sit up and tell him he didn't have to. She had never enjoyed having a guy go down on her and usually just lay there, waiting for him to get bored. But when he hooked her underwear to the side and put his open mouth on her, she stopped breathing. Because his tongue was doing something amazing, sweeping up until it met her clit and pressing in with hard, fast flicks.

“Oh, wow . . . ”

She hadn't even realized that she'd said the words out loud until he lifted his head, his lips glistening.

“You liked that?”

She nodded slowly, unsure how to answer. She'd had few lovers, and they'd never asked what she liked.

Violet watched him grab the sides of her panties and slide them down her legs. When they were off, he pressed her legs open wide, but she tried to close them, feeling too exposed.

“Don't.” He ran the rough skin of his palms over her knees until they splayed over her inner thighs, pressing them back. “You're beautiful. I want to watch you come.”

Violet hardly had time to process that before his mouth was back with a few of his fingers, and for the first time, Violet understood the difference between being with a boy and being with a man. As Dean hooked his finger, rubbing it over a place she hadn't even known existed, she cried out, and his words rushed over her.

“That's right, baby. Tell me what you like.”

No man had ever touched her like this, and as his mouth closed over her clit, sucking it between his teeth and lightly pulling the hardened bud, she realized that this could become an addiction. This floating, tingling,
oh-my-God-I'm-going-to-crumble-into-a-million-pieces
feeling was too good to give up.

And as a thousand body-humming sensations rocked through her, she forgot about all her stress, all the pain of the past. She lost herself in Dean's touch, his mouth, the deep murmurs racing across her sensitive flesh. It was like a bubble had formed around them, blurring the rest of the world in a distant haze.

A safe place where nothing but pleasure existed.

Dean's other hand closed over her breast, and even through her shirt and her bra, it was amazing. Suddenly, the next flick of Dean's tongue and swipe of his finger had her crashing, crying out loudly, sure that her limbs were going to fall right off her body as they tightened and quivered violently.

Before she had even recovered, Violet heard a drawer open and close and the sound of a wrapper.

“Take off your top,” Dean said roughly.

Violet lifted her head and watched him slide off his boxers, his long, thick cock springing free. She had never been so eager to watch a man strip down, but Dean was beautiful, like a statue sculpted by God as a reward for mere mortal women. As he ripped open the condom wrapper with his teeth, she remembered the sharp sting of them on her neck, and the memory raised gooseflesh over her skin.

“Violet, you're killing me, baby. If you don't get that shirt off, I can't guarantee its safety.”

Understanding dawned on her, and she carefully pulled her shirt over her head. She didn't want it ripped in his eagerness. Although, the thought of a man so turned on he would rip her clothes off her body? Really hot.

Her hands were behind her, fussing with the clasp of her bra, when he picked her up and moved her to the head of the bed. One of his hands joined hers, and in seconds, he had her bra unsnapped and was sliding it down her arms.

“Should I be terrified that you can undo a bra with one hand? 'Cause that takes some serious skill,” she said.

“My best friend and I used to practice in high school.”

The image of a younger version of Dean sitting in his bedroom with another kid, trying to open a bra over and over made her giggle.

The giggle ended in a choking noise as Dean took her nipple in his mouth, sucking on her hard and fast. Violet cupped the back of Dean's head between her hands, holding him against her as she felt his hard cock, his hips rocking. Soon she was whimpering in frustration, wanting him inside her, yet wishing that this would never end.

Then Dean shifted over her and reached down between their bodies to adjust himself against her opening. As he pressed forward, she winced and her muscles stretched to take him in. She'd never been with anyone quite so big, and it had been so long since she'd done it anyway . . .

His body stilled over hers, and his lips brushed her lips, her cheek, before finally grazing the shell of her ear.

“Relax. We have all the time in the world.”

I
T WAS KILLING
Dean not to move, but Violet was so tight around him, it had to hurt. And the last thing he wanted to do was hurt this sweet, beautiful woman.

Sweat broke out along Dean's forehead as he pressed a little more and then pulled back until only the tip remained. He clasped his mouth against her neck and sucked, hoping to distract her as he slipped further in again, a little more easily this time.

Dean felt her muscles relax around his dick, and her hands swept down his back and shoulders, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Everything about Violet affected him, marking him. He wanted to please her. Wanted to take care of her.

“It's okay,” she whispered. “It's better now.”

Dean took her at her word and started to move, slowly at first with long, gentle strokes as his body protested, dying to drive into her like a battering ram. When her hips began to chase him, Dean lifted up on his arms, watching her face as he thrust inside her hard and fast, sheer lust ripping through him as her eyes rolled back and closed. Her pink, full lips opened, and a raspy moan escaped as he did it again.

And then he stopped thinking, stopped worrying as he lost himself in Violet. In the fiery mass of her hair spread out across his bed. In the sweet scent of her perfume and the heat of their bodies as they moved in sync, as if she was made for him.

When Violet's muscles spasmed around him and she dug her nails into his arms, he gritted his teeth, willing his body to hang on just a little longer.

“Oh, God, God,
God
.” The last word hit such a high pitch that it nearly shattered his hearing, and then she was trembling beneath him, her body tighter than a bowstring. He let go, yelling with his release as he came. Two more thrusts until he was spent, the tension draining from his body, and he lowered himself onto his elbows, resting his lips against her neck and trying not to crush her. Their rapid breathing caused her breasts to press against his chest over and over, leaving him still hard and aching inside her.

“I think you killed me,” he said. Soft, breathless laughter made her clench down on his cock, and he groaned, reflexively jerking his hips. “Don't laugh, or you
will
kill me.”

“Then stop making me.” Her lips brushed his shoulder, and then she bit down, hard enough that he pulled back. “Didn't you . . . go?”

“Yeah, I went,” he said.

“Then how come you're still . . . ”

“Hard?”

“Yeah.” She seemed concerned, and he laughed.

“Because you feel so damn good, I don't want to stop.”

A devilish twinkle in her brown eyes accompanied the sweep of her hand from his shoulders down across his ass.

“So don't.”

“You have no idea how bad I want to, but I have a feeling you might be sore in the morning if we go another round.”

A sharp slap on his ass made him yelp. “Don't worry about me. I'm a big girl. I can decide whether I want another round or not.”

Kissing her on the forehead, he climbed off her. “I'll be right back. Just going to get cleaned up.”

Dean ignored her pout and reached under her to pull the covers of the bed down. “Here, climb in. I don't want you getting cold.”

Violet did as he asked, and he brought the blankets back up over her.

“Thanks,” she said.

She looks good in my bed.

The thought rushed through unbidden, and Dean shook his head as he turned his back on her. He didn't need to be thinking like that, especially since he was still reeling from the amazing sex they'd just shared.

Disposing of the condom in the trash can, he couldn't get Violet's expression out of his mind. Lips parted and glistening. Her eyes closed, her neck arched, her skin flushed a rosy hue. He'd never seen a more beautiful sight, and he wanted to see it again.

And again. Hell, if he wasn't careful, he was afraid he might become addicted to watching Violet come.

The point of this scenario is to
not
get addicted.

And he wouldn't, not really. Just because their situation needed to be uncomplicated didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it.

Dean grabbed another condom from the box in the cupboard and as an afterthought brushed his teeth.

By the time he walked back into the room, he thought that Violet might be asleep. She was curled up on her side facing him, her eyes closed and the blanket rising slow and steady. The blue of the comforter set off her red hair, which was spread out over his pillow in a fiery tangle. Her pale skin was scraped raw from his whiskers, and he hated to admit it, but the visual mark of him on her got his motor running again.

He flipped off the bedroom light, and the beam from the hallway lit up the room enough that he could still watch her as he climbed under the covers. He slid his arm under her head and started to pull her toward him when she moved. Curling her body against him with her head on his shoulder, her eyes popped open.

“Finally ready for another go-round?”

Dean's laugh turned into a choke as her hand slipped down and her long fingers wrapped around him, sliding up over the head of his length and back down slowly. She repeated the motion again, speeding up every time, and Dean closed his eyes, giving himself over to her ministrations until his hips started chasing her motions.

Finally, he grabbed her hand and stalled her. Using his other hand, he ripped open the second condom with his teeth just before she took the package from him and rolled the condom down his cock at a torturous speed.

“You done playing with me?” he groaned.

“Almost.” Her breathless whisper traveled up from under the blankets as she disappeared from view, and he felt the pressure of her mouth smoothing the latex down.

It was his breaking point.

He pulled her roughly up and over his body until they were nearly nose to nose. “You wanted another round?” Gripping his cock, he pushed into her until he was completely encased in her warmth and placed his hands over her thighs with a smile. “Then ride 'em, cowgirl.”

The smile that spread over Violet's face was nothing short of breathtaking. She started to rock on him, and he used his hands to pull and push her back and forth as he listened to the hitches in her breath, waiting for them to dissolve into soft moans. And all the while, Dean watched her above him, her small, full breasts swaying with the flow of her body, her lashes fanned over the paleness of her cheeks. Every once in a while she would bite her lip, only to release it moments later, as if she couldn't contain her pleasure.

Dean liked that. He didn't want her contained. He wanted all of her, free and open with him.