Never Been Nerdy(45)

"I didn't ask you to."

Dean grunts, the rumble vibrating through his skin to mine. Just like that, I want him again.

"Then why are you being like this?"

"I'm not being anything."

"Kitten, just tell me what's going on in that head of yours. I just basically just dropped the epic "I am your father" line, and you have zero reaction."

I try to fight the grin, but I fail miserably. He knows how to get to me.

"I told you it wasn't going to work, and now I'm going to want to have sex with you on the regular, and you had to put a label on it."

"You still don't get it, do you?"

I push up, ignoring the way his hand tries to put pressure on my head to keep me where I am.

Not today, bucko.

"What am I not getting? You deserve better than what I can give you. I can't say those words back. I won't say those words back."

He just smiles at me. Where's a fork when you need one? "I don't want you to say them back when you don't need them."

I narrow my eyes. "Why aren't you worried? We are basically friends with benefits."

"Nah, I'm not the benefit. You're the one I've been waiting around for. I've been waiting for you to catch up. And when that day comes, well, I'm hoping you do me the honour of marrying me, but since that's a touchy subject we don't have to talk about that right now."

"Dean-"

"I'm a grown man  –  most of the time. I know what I'm getting into. I know what your deal is, and I'm going to try and help you fix it, get through it, whatever you want to do. Why do you think I said yes that day, kitten? Why did I say I wanted to hang out with you when all you caused me was misery?"

"Because I'm hot?"

Dean laughs, getting crinkles at his eyes. "Yeah, baby. You're beautiful, no denying that. You're also fierce, and strong, and an incredibly hard-worker. But you hide behind a wall, scared to death of living, of loving. That might just be a job for Carter-man! Cheesy, I know, but let's see this through?"

"You really love me?" I ask him, incapable of understanding. This was never meant to be for me, this relationship shit, love, it just wasn't meant to be. And I was okay with that, until I ended hitting a Viking with a car. Until he did something to my heart and made me want to live again.

"Guess you're stuck with me for the next little while, then."

"That's my girl. Now, what do I have to do to get you to make me a sandwich, or maybe seven of them?"

"You know, I was going to introduce my lips to your cock, but then you had to go and open your mouth and say that. Junior here looks mighty disappointed."

Dean's eyes open wide, his nostrils flare as my hand creeps closer and closer to his dick. I move back a little, and turn my head towards his stomach, watching my progress, watching every single nuance of muscle contract and pull in a way that has them arrowing towards my destination. Dean's getting harder by the second, his entire length slowly standing at attention for me.

My teeth nip a piece of skin on his ribs, making his entire body jerk just about the same time I get my hand wrapped around him. His hips roll, up and down, moving his length in opposition with the movement of my hand.

I grin.

I squeeze him on the way down, increasing pressure, increasing speed as his legs start contracting, the ropes of muscle in his quads standing out.

"Kitten, torture is not nice," he groans, moving in my hand. I watch him move, feel the answering ache between my legs, scissoring them to get some sort of relief.

"I told you you were going to pay."

"Fuck, if you do this to me every time, I'll never stop telling you I love you."

I start twisting my hand, his hips start moving faster, tighter movements as he groans, and says my name like it's going to make me stop. I don't want to stop.

"Katie," he groans, pulsing in my hand, his body pushing him harder to get what it wants.

He's so gorgeous like this, hips grinding into my hand. I'm burning just by looking at him. I push myself up, looking down at the entire length of his body, his face a mask of sweet agony as I stroke him towards what he needs.   





 

When he comes, his muscles tense for a whole minute before he lets them go, his entire body one taut string that's about to snap. He relaxes briefly, green eyes lost and hazy. Dean looks at me with such conviction that I can't help but have a sliver of belief that I may be able to tell him I love him, too.

Just not today.

Who knows about the future?





Chapter 27



"Hey, Dad," I say, leaning in to kiss my father's cheek. He gives me a smile, and grabs my hand to kiss it. He's sitting in his favourite chair, a beat up La-Z-Boy that's older than I am back home in the house I grew up in. As always, he's sitting in front of the TV, watching a Juventus game and swearing whenever he thinks they don't so something right.

My childhood home was too big for the three of us, and we had a cleaning lady when I was growing up who became like family. I should track Lucia down, see how she's doing. Try to make amends for the brat I was during my parents' divorce.

"Cara, how are you? It's been a long time since you've come to see me."

Yeah, Dad, I think we both know why. You haven't left the house since the day your divorce was finalized. I got my pride from you, and I want you to take it back.

"Yeah, I've been really busy at work."

Dad nods like this makes sense. I'm sure he knows I'm only partially telling the truth  –  he always was wily. I'd like to think I got my brains from him. "You put in the work, you'll get the reward. Keep going, it's going to be worth it in the end. Then I won't have to worry about you marrying well enough that I can die in peace," he gives me a tight-lipped smile.

My heart hurts at the thought of him being alone without me to come visit, or dying in any circumstance without me being able to say goodbye.

I hate coming here, I hate visiting him because while I hid my hurt in work, and anger, Dad never got over the betrayal. He can't even stand to take a walk outside; he's convinced himself that everyone knows how my mom humiliated him for years before opening her stupid mouth and asking for a divorce.

"Dad, I want to talk to you about Mom."

Dad nods like he's been waiting for this day for a long time. I look away from him, see the floor's strewn with his dirty laundry, the way his hair sticks up at odd angles because of the way he's slept on it, the greying beard that's coming in patches along his cheeks. My dad's gotten older without me realizing it.

"How about I make you some hot chocolate, eh Dad? I'll start the milk heating, alright?"

I move into the kitchen without him giving me an answer, getting familiar with my mother's kitchen again, finding everything I need. Once the milk's on the stove, I look up startled to find him in the kitchen with m.

Whenever I'm over, he never comes in the kitchen. It probably has to do that I'm a carbon copy of my mother when she was younger, and he can't stand to look at me and not remember what she did.

"I'm really pissed off at you." The island is separating us, a generation of DiNovros, and about a Grand Canyon's worth of pain. "You know, I didn't want to get married, I didn't even want to be in a relationship because of what happened between you and Mom." My voice doesn't crack, and I think I deserve a Dean high-five for it. Only he's not here and this is something I have to do alone.

"That's a stupid reason, Katie. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"What? How can you say that to me?" The truth bubbles up inside me, and damn if that asshole isn't going to want center stage. "I knew about Mom and him, and I didn't say anything. I knew about it, I kept quiet about it for three years, Dad. Three long fucking years."

Dad's eyes look even more sunken now, and I hope it's my imagination, but he's gone Casper-the-friendly-ghost-white, and looks like he's having trouble breathing.

"Cara, I don't want to talk about the past."

"Really? Because it seems like it's the only thing you do! You just sit here, in front of that stupid screen without watching, without feeling anything, and you go over it and over it in your head. Do you think I don't see the way you look at me, the way you hate me because I look like her?"

"That's just not true."

I glare at him. "Dad, come on! Don't lie to me." Don't lie to me. Not you, too.

"I knew about her affair, Katie. I knew about it after a year that she was with him."

Ice trickles its way into my veins, and my heart gives a feeble thump like it's going to give up any second. "What? How could you know? Did she tell you?"   





 

"It wasn't hard to figure out. She started dressing more nicely, putting on more make-up to go to work. Late-night meetings, spending more time at the office. And she was happy, cara, so much happier than I could make her."

Anger incinerates the ice in my veins, and I curl my hands into fists.

"How could you stay with her after that? How could you even make yourself sleep in the same bed?" Pressure builds behind my eyes, and that damn ticking eyeball starts. Tick, tick, tick.

"Because I …  I loved her."

"You loved her," I snap, slamming my fists on the counter. "So you stayed when you knew she was getting her kicks with someone else?"

Dad's eyes are lost when he looks at me. Does he see me, or her?