The Road That Leads to Us Page 13

  I rolled her to her back and hovered above her for a brief moment before lowering my head and covering her mouth with mine.

  It felt like it had been an eternity since I kissed her, when in reality it hadn’t been more than twenty-four hours.

  Her body responded beneath mine, her hips rolling against me. A little gasp sounded in the back of her throat and I groaned at the sound of it.

  I took her face in my hands and held her to me.

  I couldn’t get enough of the taste of her.

  So incredibly sweet.

  Her fingers wound into my hair, tugging lightly, and I only kissed her harder.

  “Dean.” She gasped my name breathlessly and I hummed in satisfaction.

  My hips rocked against her and her legs wound around my waist.

  She leaned up and her breasts pushed against my chest.

  My eyes nearly rolled back into my head and we weren’t even really doing anything. That was how crazy she made me feel.

  I nibbled on her plump bottom lip and she moaned, her mouth opening beneath mine.

  My tongue brushed hers and she made this little humming sound at the feel of it.

  I wrenched myself away suddenly and rolled off the bed, flattening my back against the wall.

  I was breathless and so was she.

  She sat up on the bed, her blonde hair wild around her head and her eyes glazed with lust. Her lips were swollen and bruised and like a fucking caveman I felt satisfaction at the sight of them.

  I did that.

  “Why did you stop?” Each of her words came out as a pant.

  I reached up and tugged on the ends of my hair. “I didn’t want things to go too far.”

  Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “So what if it did?”

  “We only had our first kiss last night,” I defended, my arms lifting at my sides. “I want to take things slow.” Couldn’t she see that I was trying to be a gentleman?

  “We’ve known each other our whole lives…so what would be wrong if we had sex?”

  I shook my head and my hair tumbled over my forehead. “I know, but this…us…this isn’t about sex. It’s more than that and you know it too. I won’t ruin us before we even start just because I can’t keep my dick in my pants.”

  She shook her head and drew her knees up to her chest. “Fine,” she huffed, blowing a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. “I see where you’re coming from, but I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

  I closed my eyes and let out a groan. “Don’t say things like that. It makes it really hard for me to be a good guy.”

  My eyes flew open at the feel of her palms on my chest. She’d moved from the bed to stand in front of me and now her hands skimmed under my shirt and over the bare skin of stomach.

  My heart picked up speed and sweat broke out across my forehead.

  It took an incredible amount of strength not to tear off her shirt and throw her down on the bed.

  I grabbed her wandering hands when she reached for the button of my jeans and gently pushed her away.

  “Not yet,” I told her. “Not yet,” I repeated. I hoped she saw in my eyes how badly I wanted this. Wanted her. But I was doing this for the both of us. I wouldn’t let our relationship start out this way. I wanted her to know she was special and I wanted it to be perfect—as cheesy as that sounded. Here, in a dingy hotel that I wasn’t even sure had working air conditioning, was not the place I wanted to have sex with Willow the first time.

  She nodded and I knew she understood.

  I cupped her face in one of my hands and lowered slightly to her height and placed a small kiss on her lips. It was soft and sweet, nothing like the previous times we kissed, but it was still amazing.

  Leaning my forehead against hers, I said, “And now I’m going to go take one hell of a cold shower.”

  “It better be ice cold after what you’ve done to me, Hot Buns.”

  I threw my head back and laughed the kind of laugh that shook your whole body.

  I only ever laughed that hard with Willow, and now…and now that girl was mine.

  Willow

  After we showered we both fell asleep. The bed was small, so I basically sprawled across him like an octopus, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  I kept feeling like it should be weird to be with Dean in a romantic way, but it wasn’t. In fact, it felt so incredibly right that it scared me. My feelings had gone from ‘just friends’ to ‘I want to jump your bones’ so fast I was surprised I didn’t have whiplash.

  Dean rummaged through his bag, looking for a clean shirt, and I took a moment to appreciate the sight of him without one.

  He was lean with enough muscle for it to be defined, but not bulky, because let’s be real, Dean didn’t work out. He was too busy fixing cars (which was where he got the muscle he had) and in his spare time he geeked out to his nerdoms as I liked to call them.

  Dean picked up a blue shirt and sniffed it. “Smells clean,” he mumbled before shrugging it on.

  He turned around and my eyes immediately honed in on the sliver of skin above his jeans that his shirt hadn’t covered yet. When it disappeared I nearly whimpered.

  “I think we need to wash our clothes tonight.”

  “Ugh.” I groaned and flopped back dramatically on the bed. “I don’t wanna.”

  Dean chuckled and the bed squeaked when he sat down beside me. “It’s a necessary evil. We have to have clean clothes.”

  I knew he was right, but the idea of sitting around for two hours or so while our clothes were washed was not appealing.

  “Tell you, what,” Dean stood and grabbed his phone off the bedside table, “let’s go out for a bit and find this apparently magical festival, and then we’ll partake in the menial chore of washing our garments.”

  I laughed, which I knew had been his intended effect. “Partake, menial, and garments. You sound like you’re eighty.”

  He shrugged. “I think old people are cool so I’ll take that as a compliment.” He reached down and tapped his finger against my nose and then took my hand, hauling me up into a seated position.

  I grabbed my backpack and we headed down to the lobby where Dean asked the receptionist for directions to the festival.

  The receptionist was a young brunette who kept jutting out her chest and pouting her lips like somehow that would entice Dean.

  Honestly, her behavior didn’t really bother me. I was so used to seeing women check him out that it didn’t faze me anymore.

  Instead, I kept bumping his arm with my elbow and making a face like, “See? You see? She’s totally in love with you and naming your children!”

  When we stepped outside into the afternoon sunshine Dean said, “What the hell was that for? Were you having a seizure or something?”

  I groaned at his complete and utter obliviousness. “Noooo,” I drew out the word, “she was totally making googly-eyes at you and I wanted you to notice.”

  He glanced back at the sliding glass doors. “Huh, I didn’t know.”

  “It’s refreshing that you don’t notice,” I admitted. “Most guys are so egotistical that they eat that shit up.”

  “What can I say?” He shrugged as we headed towards the parking lot. “I’ve always been different.”

  “We both have.”

  Dean and I had never really fit the mold of what was expected of us.

  Dean came from a family that was worth billions thanks to their ammunition company—but like his dad, the society life hadn’t been for him. He wanted to work on cars, play his music, and collect his Pokémon cards.

  I had famous parents and because of that I’d grown up in the spotlight. When you grow up under a microscope people expected a certain kind of behavior from you and I’d always bucked the system. I lived in the moment and took risks when other people thought I should sit back.

  “You’re right.” He flashed a small half-smile and reached for my hand.

  My body hummed at the feel of his hand. I didn’t know if I’d ever
get used to the fact that we were an us now.

  “Milady.” Dean opened the passenger door of the Mustang and bowed.

  I shook my head at him, fighting a smile.

  It didn’t take us long to find the festival, and let’s be honest it was hard to miss.

  Dean parked the car in a grassy area as far away from everyone else as he could get.

  Rubbing the dashboard, he explained, “I don’t want my baby to get dinged.”

  I’d guessed as much.

  I grabbed my backpack and hat from the floor of the car and stepped outside.

  I shrugged the backpack over my shoulder and stuck the hat on backwards.

  “I think that defeats the purpose.” Dean jested as he rounded the car to stand beside me. Before I could retort he reached up and grabbed my hat, flipping it around the other way. “That’s better.”

  I pouted.

  “Don’t worry, Willow. I’ll buy you some lollipops and make it all better.”

  “You better buy all the lollipops.”

  I reached up and adjusted the baseball cap so that it wasn’t crooked and then tugged on the hem of my tank top. It was loose and exposed my floral bikini top underneath. It was scorching hot and I’d wanted to wear as little clothes as possible. And also everything else was dirty. Dean was right about us needing to do laundry.

  Dean took my hand again, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and we started towards the entrance.

  We had to stop and buy an admittance pass before we could explore.

  The grounds were huge. Boasting booth after booth of different vendors, and beyond, I saw a carnival set up with a Ferris wheel and other games.

  I couldn’t contain my grin and skipped around with excitement.

  Letting go of Dean’s hand I spun around, tilting my head up towards the sun. “This is so cool. The greatest festival ever.”

  Dean chuckled from somewhere to my left. “We’ve only passed three booths, I don’t know if you can adequately make such an observation yet.”

  I ceased my spinning and wobbled a bit. Dean was there instantly, steadying me with a firm grip on my arms. “Thanks, Hot Buns.”

  He groaned at the stupid nickname and shook his head. Waves of brown hair tumbled over his forehead, momentarily hiding his green eyes.

  Continuing, I said, “I have seen enough to decide it’s the best. I know these things.”

  “Uh-huh.” He nodded.

  He opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off with my shriek of excitement. “Look!” I pointed, jumping up and down. “Face painting!”

  Dean grumbled something unintelligible but followed me anyway.

  “Hi,” I said excitedly to the woman working the booth. “How much for me and my Hot Buns?”

  “Willow!” Dean admonished and I swore his cheeks turned pink.

  “What?” I batted my eyes innocently. “You’re the one that said boyfriend was weird and I should pick a new name. I chose Hot Buns. Deal with it.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

  He groaned and shoved his fingers through his hair so that it stuck up wildly around his head. “You really shouldn’t take anything I say seriously,” he grumbled.

  I shrugged. “Too late.”

  The woman watched us with barely contained laughter. When I met her gaze she busted out into a full-blown laughing fit.

  Wiping tears from her eyes, she said, “You two are too adorable for words.”

  “Eh, he’s just okay.” I shrugged and then tossed Dean a wink over my shoulder. “So…yeah. Face painting?” I pointed to my face like the woman didn’t know what she was supposed to do.

  “Of course. Price depends on what you want. I can do anything.”

  Beside me, Dean gasped. “Can you do Bulbasaur?”

  “Bulba-what?” She asked, her brow wrinkling in confusion.

  “It’s from Pokémon.” He hastened to explain. He pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly typed it into the search engine. “Him.” He pointed to the image of the green creature—Dean would be horrified if he knew I called it a creature.

  She studied the image and nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  “Yes!” Dean chanted and I had to laugh at his enthusiasm. If Pokémon was involved Dean always got excited.

  “And what do you want?” She asked me, tucking a piece of vibrant—too vibrant to be natural—red hair behind her ear.

  “Pinkie Pie.” I declared with a nod.

  “Ah, I know who that is. My five-year-old is obsessed with ‘My Little Pony.’ Come on around here.” She motioned for us to step behind the booth where chairs waited for us to sit down.

  She gave us the price and once we paid she started.

  Dean insisted I go first. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be a gentleman, or if it sucked he was going to bail on getting his face painted. If he tried to weasel out of it I’d tackle him so fast he wouldn’t see it coming.

  “Are you guys from here or visiting because of the festival?” She asked us. “Oh, I’m Rachel, by the way.”

  “Dean and Willow.” He pointed to himself and then me like that was necessary or something. “We’re on a road trip and stumbled upon this festival when we couldn’t find a place to stop last night and people kept explaining it was because of this. Figured we couldn’t miss it.” From the corner of my eye I saw him shrug.

  “Ah, yeah,” Rachel nodded, “places book up for miles around here for this thing. It’s a big deal.”

  “So we gathered.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and paced the booth restlessly.

  “Did y’all find a place to sleep last night?”

  “Nope,” I told her, “he got to be my snuggle bunny in the back of the car.”

  She laughed at that. “You guys can stay with me tonight if you need a place.”

  I was shocked by her generosity towards us, two virtual strangers.

  “Thanks,” Dean spoke up before I could, which was probably a good thing considering she was painting my face and I was supposed to keep still, “we managed to find a place for the night and we’ll head out in the morning.”

  “Ah, okay.” She nodded. “What made you guys decide to go on a road trip?”

  “She was supposed to go with her friends, but they bailed so I stepped in.”

  “Knight in shining armor right there.” I pointed at Dean and he bowed.

  “If I’m a knight,” he started, his brow furrowing, “then where’s my sword.” He stuck his hands on his hips and looked around.

  “Ooh,” Rachel cried, “there’s a guy here who sells homemade swords.”

  Dean’s whole face lit up. “Like a real sword that could cut a watermelon in half?”

  Watermelon? I mouthed.

  “Uh…” Rachel chuckled. “Sure. I guess.”

  “Sa-weeeet,” Dean said dramatically, and rubbed his hands together. He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “We have to find that booth before we leave.”

  I started to speak but Rachel quickly shushed me, so I merely nodded instead.

  A few minutes later she sat back with a pleased smile. “Finished.” She declared before handing me a mirror so I could see for myself.

  I squealed when I saw myself. I was definitely a sparkly Pinkie Pie.

  Dean sat down then so she could start on him.

  It didn’t take her as long to paint his face since Dean actually kept quiet while she worked.

  We thanked her and then continued on through the festival.

  “I swear this place looks like it goes on for miles,” I commented, my head on a constant swivel as I tried to absorb every little thing.

  “Maybe it does.” Dean shrugged and reached down for my hand.

  I smiled up at him and pulled out my phone. “Smile!” I told him.

  We took a few normal pictures before we switched to making silly faces. I sent one to my mom. Dean noticed.

  “Your dad’s not going to see that, is he?”

  I laughed. Dean bein
g afraid of my dad was hysterical. My dad might try to act all big and tough but he was really a big ole softy.

  “Maybe.” I shrugged and stuffed my phone in the back pocket of my shorts. “What’s the big deal?”

  “We’re holding hands,” Dean hissed, and held our hands up as if to prove his point.

  “Yeah, so what? You can’t see our hands in the picture.

  “But he’s your dad,” Dean groaned, almost in a whine, “he’ll know.”

  I busted out laughing and patted Dean’s chest with my free hand. “It’ll be okay.”

  He mumbled something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like, “No, it won’t.”

  A moment later my phone buzzed with a response.

  “My mom says, ‘Aw, cute. Glad you guys are having fun!’ I should tell her to make sure she shows the picture to my dad,” I jested.

  “Hell no.” Dean plucked my phone from my hand and stuffed it in his pocket.

  “That wasn’t nice.” I mock-pouted.

  He lowered until his lips were only a breath away from mine.

  “When you pout those pretty pink lips it only makes me want to kiss you.”

  I gasped, overcome by the sudden need to have him kiss me.

  He paused, waiting for me to respond.

  When I didn’t pull away he pressed his lips to mine. They were soft against mine, a stark contrast to the stubble on his cheeks. I pressed into him, my palm landing flat on his chest as I deepened the kiss.

  It ended all too soon.

  I closed my eyes and laid my head against his chest as I gathered my breath.

  I couldn’t believe how I’d never thought of Dean as anything but my friend until now. Us, together like this, felt as natural as breathing.

  “What are you thinking about?” He asked, removing my hat and putting it on me backwards like I’d originally had it before he changed it.

  “You. Us.” I shrugged. “How did I not notice before? This thing between us feels too big to be ignored.”

  He stared at me seriously for a moment. “Sometimes the most important things stare us right in the face, waiting until the perfect moment to be noticed. This is our moment.” He reached out and grabbed a piece of blonde hair that swirled by my shoulder from a gust of wind.