The pad of his thumb gently circles my clit, sending a hot shiver racing up my spine. He rubs and teases until I’m swollen, aching, and my hips involuntarily hitch forward, seeking deeper contact. He chuckles again.

“Dean…” It’s a warning.

“Allie.” It’s a taunt.

His hand moves lower, the calloused palm scraping my pussy on its descent. One talented finger slips inside me. A cross between a breath, a sigh and a groan escapes my lips, but it’s instantly cut off when Dean presses his lips to mine.

I kiss him back hungrily, helpless to resist him. Dean Di Laurentis is in my blood now. I didn’t expect the intense sexual chemistry between us, but it’s here, and it’s addictive, and I don’t know how I can ever give it up. He grinds the heel of his hand against my clit, and the delicious pressure has my thighs clenching together. Pleasure gathers between my legs, making my entire body tremble.

I’m far too aware of the sounds we’re making. Our heavy breathing. The wet glide of his finger moving inside me. I pray to God that Beau isn’t a light sleeper.

“I always know when you’re getting close,” Dean whispers.

“How?” The methodical thrust of his finger is distracting. I start to squirm, my inner muscles bearing down on him as the pleasure intensifies and dances along my heated flesh.

“Your cheeks turn bright red, and your eyes…they glaze over.” His warm mouth skates over my jaw before traveling down my neck. “Your pulse throbs…right here—” He licks the center of my throat “—and your pussy squeezes me so fucking tight, like it’s trying to trap my finger inside of it.”

My breaths go shallow. My mind is foggy. His deep voice and magical hand are all I’m able to focus on, but when he curves his finger and starts moving it faster, my brain shuts down completely.

“That’s it,” Dean says hoarsely. “Come for me, baby.”

I close my eyes and let the sensations take over, gasping softly as the pressure finally releases and I float away on a cloud of bliss. Sighing, I rest my cheek against his pecs, while lingering flutters of pleasure sweep through my body.

“You guys know I’m awake, right?”

Beau’s wry voice triggers a rush of horror mingled with the burn of embarrassment. I bury my face against Dean’s chest, too mortified to look over at the armchair.

“And now I’m hard as a rock,” Beau adds in a jaunty voice. “So I’m just gonna go ahead and ask—any chance of a threesome?”

My head lifts in indignation, but I can’t help but laugh when I see the intrigued gleam in Dean’s eyes.

“Don’t even think about it,” I order, jabbing my finger into his chest. I sit up to fix Beau with the same stern look. “Erase that idea from your pretty head, Maxwell. Because it’s not happening.”

His smile is downright saucy. “Tonight, or ever?”

“Ever.”

“Give me one good reason why not,” Beau challenges.

“Because a) I don’t want to, and b) picture this—it’s ten years from now. I’m a Hollywood A-lister, a three-time Academy Award winner, the most sought-after actress ever to grace the silver screen…and then the latest issue of People magazine hits the stands. And you know what the headline reads?” I move my hand through the air as if I’m spelling out the headline—“Celebrity debauchery exposed. Allie Hayes, college threesome queen.”

Beau spells out his own headline. “Super Bowl champ Beau Maxwell quoted as saying, ‘best night of my life.’”

I sigh and turn to Dean, who’s clearly trying not to laugh. “And now it’s time for bed. Say goodnight to your friend Beau, sweetie.”

“Good night, Beau,” Dean says obediently.

24

Allie

Dean and I arrive back at campus at noon the next day. Since the team bus leaves at one o’clock for their game in Burlington, he should be hightailing it out of the parking lot if he wants to go home and change first. But he stays rooted in the driver’s seat.

“What’s wrong?” I can’t decipher his expression.

“Can I see you tonight?” His voice is husky, and there’s an inexplicable chord of…something…in it.

“I have rehearsal, so it depends on when Steven lets us out. Call me when you’re back from Vermont and we’ll see where I’m at?”

He nods. Still doesn’t move.

“Do you mind helping me with my suitcase?”

Another nod.

I fight a pang of uneasiness as we get out of the car. There’s no one in the parking lot to see us unload my bag, but that isn’t what’s making me apprehensive. It’s the intensity Dean is radiating. It’s like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how to broach the subject.

“Everything okay?” I ask lightly.

Those green eyes sweep over me so intently I feel self-conscious. I know my hair is a wavy mess, and I’m pretty sure there’s a tiny zit forming on my chin. I hope that’s not what he’s staring at.

“All good, baby doll,” he finally says, snapping out of whatever deep thoughts he’d been having. “C’mere and give me a good luck kiss. We desperately need to win this game today.”

My gaze flits around the lot. A slight frown touches Dean’s lips¸ and seeing it triggers a flash of guilt. We just spent three days together. We fooled around in front of Beau, for crying out loud, and I’m afraid to kiss him in an empty parking lot?

I bridge the distance and lean on my tiptoes to brush my lips over his. “Good luck,” I whisper. Then I slip him a little tongue and smile when his breath catches.

He groans softly. “Tease.”

My smile widens as I take a step back. “Thanks for the ride. And the night out.”

“And the dirty, dirty sex,” he reminds me.

“One dirty would’ve sufficed.” Except nope, I’m wrong. What we did this weekend requires at least two dirties. Four would probably be the right amount.

“You sure you can manage that thing?” he asks as I roll my overstuffed suitcase toward the path.

“I’m fine. It has wheels.”

“What about the stairs?”

“It’s fine,” I insist. “Go, Dean, otherwise you’ll miss your bus.”