Never Been Nerdy(58)

I scoop him up again, smiling when an older man holds the inner door open for me and bolt upstairs, in time to let myself into the quiet apartment. Dean had left me on the couch to sleep, and I’m assuming he’s in his bed right now, catching up on some Z’s.

I look around for my heels, but they’re not where they’re supposed to be, meaning, sitting beside Dean’s sneakers. I frown and twirl around, giving my stomach a jolt, and pull in deep breaths so I don’t start puking everywhere.

Did somebody say puke?

I worry about the state of my stomach until, out of the corner of my eyes, a giant beast comes lumbering to me, hair all over the place, eyes not seeing me, and roaring until it crashes into me and tumbles us to the floor.





Chapter 17





“Ah, shit, shit, shit. I’m sorry, I forgot you were here!” Dean yelps, pawing at me in the darkness.

“I’m sorry, Kat! Can you breathe?! Want me to get off of you?” he asks, an edge of panic to his voice, like his serious massive weight broke me into a million pieces.

Once my lungs inflate again, I’ll let him know I’m okay. I just need a minute, because holy hell, does this feel amazing, having him on top of me like this. My vagina has officially taken over, even if I need some crazy amount of oxygen right about now.

Dean realizes how very almost-naked he is; I can tell in the dim light coming through the window of early morning. He’s wearing nothing but boxers, and I feel every single inch of him pressed up against me.

While my vagina does the hula dance, or maybe even that dance that Lydia does when Gina Davis and that other Baldwin dude make her float in the air at the end of Beetlejuice, my headspace is all over the fucking place, and I really don’t want him looking at me right now.

I’m a mess, and feel like I’ve been dipped in hot candle wax and peeled until pieces of skin have come off, and then I’ve maybe even rolled in an endless stream of razors. My head’s pounding, and my mouth’s a replica of sandpaper.

“Dean,” I whisper, voice rough from the morning. He squints down at me, and for some reason, places his hand on my cheek, thumb dipping under my chin and tilting my head back so I’m forced to look at him even though it’s the last thing I want to do.

Dean Carter sees things that other people don’t, very much like Sera does. Maybe it’s their constant reading, noses always in books that give them the ability to read between the lines when there are no lines, or when the lines are on someone’s face. To him, I’m an open book, and it’s hands down the scariest place to be – where someone sees all of you.

I wish I could see more of his face, or do something to get him to realize that I’m pinned underneath him – and what the hell is he going to do about it?

It just doesn’t matter anymore. I know I’m too much trouble to chase after, I know what I am. I’m exactly like my mother and I’m going to rip him to shreds. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or five years from now, but I have her DNA running through me and that shit’s real.

I’m going to destroy him with my own selfishness and I can’t do that. I won’t do that.

“Why are you being so cool with me?” I leave my palms flat on the floor, and get puppy kisses on my ear.

“Potter!” Dean’s orders, and the littlest furry prince yips and goes to a place away from where I’m concentrating on the Viking on top of me. Dean sighs, but continues to practically straddle me. Weird thing is, I have no inclination to press my advantage further. I need to turn my ass around, and leave him alone.

“Well, short-answer is ‘cause I’m one of the most awesome people you will meet,” he nods at himself, all high and mighty. My mouth threatens to smile but I tell it to pipe down. It can’t be that easy for Dean to make me smile, not when I feel like this.

“Long-answer’s gonna take some time. Maybe even a whole breakfast and walk around the mountain,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.

He really is beautiful – all broad chest and shoulders, muscles in all the right places. But I don’t deserve to want him – I’m cursed to have all the Liams in the entire world just so we can use each other. Dean is something else entirely, and there’s a very feminine, heroic part of me that wants to find out what exactly that is.

Truth is, I’m fucking terrified of what this means. I know what a shit I am, but I flap my mouth and words come out painted in self-confidence. I show the world what I want it to see of me. They don’t know about my jamming sessions at home where I go a little crazy and usually cry myself to sleep.

My life is nowhere near what I expected it to be.