Slow Burn (62 page)

Everyone’s gonna see that video
—everyone at school, my family…everybody.  Am I ready to deal with that?  I guess I have to be.  Kara could be sending it out right now.  I need to go down to the police station.  But first I need to see Dean.

Where is he?  He’s not answering his phone. 
Though it’s almost completely dark out, I go by his house…but he’s not home.  Finally, I text Johnny to ask him if he’s seen his stepbrother anywhere.  Johnny texts me back seconds later to let me know they’re all over at Ben’s house, and that I should come over.

Ben lives in the neighborhood, so I arrive at his elegant mansion in less than five minutes.  There are a bunch of cars parked out front
, and I pick out Johnny’s, Mack’s, and Nick’s rides among them.  I don’t see Dean’s Pontiac, so I guess he caught a ride with Johnny.

Johnny comes limping out the door as I’m going up the pave
d path in the front of the house.  I walk right into his arms, burying my face into his chest, and absorbing his warmth and comfort.

“I’m so sorry, Teeny,” Johnny murmurs into my hair.  “I should have listened to you about Kara.  You were right along.”

I pull back a little, looking up at him.  “You know about…everything?”

Johnny nods, his face grim.  “
Dean told me.  He’s been so fucked up all week, trying to deal with the shit with Kara.  We had to drag him over here, and get him drunk hoping he’d pass out and get some sleep.”

I frown, looking toward the house.  “He’s drunk?”

Johnny chuckles, his bright blue eyes amused.  “He’s not completely shit-faced, but he’s relaxed enough to let himself have some damn fun for once in his life.”

“I’d better go find him,” I say, shaking my head. 

I start to move past Johnny, but he grabs my arm, stopping me.  I look back at him questioningly.

He’s looking at me with the saddest expression on his face right now.  “
He loves you.  He’d never betray you the way I did.  God, you don’t know how much I regret that night.  I should have treated you better.  I should have told you…”

“Johnny.”  My eyes prick with tears.  “
Please don’t.”

He just stares at me with such longing that I have to look away.  Finally, he exhales, long and slow.  “I won’t.  Go find Dean.  He’s hurting bad
right now.”

“I will.”

Before I go, I give Johnny a fierce hug, holding him tightly.  “I love you,” I whisper. 

He squeezes me back, his gaze lingering on my mouth.  “Not like you love him, but I’ll take it.  Now go take care of Dean.”

“Thanks, Johnny.”

I’ve been in Ben’s house a few times before—enough to know where the game room is, and to assume all the guys are in there.
  Ben has an awesome set-up—a teenage boy’s dream—with everything from a fully stocked bar, three huge TVs, and every kind of game system known to man.  Why is there neon everywhere?  I don’t know, but boys seems to like stuff that glow.

The guys are all sprawled
out on the black leather sofas, surrounded by pizza boxes, chips, and drinks.  They’re so involved in whatever video game they’re playing that no one notices my arrival.

I spot Nick, lying on
the ground with a beer bottle balanced on his stomach.  I don’t know how he can play a video game with his controller sideways like that, but his excited whoops make me think he’s succeeding.  I lean over, and grab the beer off of him.  “Nick,” I say, trying to get his attention.  “Where’s Dean?”

“Hey, Juliet!”  Nick’s eyes brighten when he looks at me.  But then his attention quickly goes back to the violent video game he’s playing.  “Not sure where Dean is.  I think he—oh, shit!”

Someone crows in triumph.  “Suck napalm, Adler!”

“Aw, man!”  Nick groans.  “Cheap shot, dude!”

I’ve definitely lost his attention.  Rolling my eyes, I decide to search another room.  Just then, a flash of movement just outside of the sliding glass doors catches my attention.

The door slides open, and Dean steps in.  He’s soaking wet, his shirt molding to the muscles in his chest and stomach like a second skin
, and his jeans are dripping water in puddles at his feet.  He looks dangerous, sexy as hell—and so lost that my heart aches for him.

His odd-colored eyes seem to glow when his gaze locks on me.  Something like pain flashes across his flawless features, then he starts toward me
, his jaw tightly clenched.

The force of my feelings for this boy hits me like a sledgehammer.  I run to him, oblivious of everything else.  I think I may have stepped on someone lying on the ground
—but I barely notice the loud grunting complaint.  I throw myself into Dean’s arms, and he staggers a little under my enthusiasm.  That’s how I know he’s drunk—he’s usually as steady as a rock.

I don’t care that he’s soaking wet and cold.  I wrap my arms around his waist
, and sink into him.  He smells like hard liquor, chlorine, and shampoo.  Did he fall into the pool?

“You’re here,” Dean says, sounding incredulous.  His arms tighten around me. 

I wiggle away so I can check him out.  “Are you okay?”  I ask, looking him over.  When I see his hand, I gasp.  His knuckles and bloody and swollen.  “What happened?!”

Dean glances down at the hand I’
m now cradling.  “I hit something,” he says, sounding confused.  “I got you all wet.”

“Hells, yeah!” a deep voice crows,
followed by perverted cackles.

I glance around self-
consciously, but loud explosions are coming from the game playing, and the guys start shouting excitedly.  Shaking my head, I turn back to Dean.  “What did you hit?” I ask him, gently brushing my fingers over his knuckles.

“I don’t know.”

He doesn’t flinch under my exploration of his injuries, but just stands there, staring at me like a big lost puppy.  I release a chest-heaving sigh, and give his wrist a tug.  “Come on.  Let’s find a bathroom, and get you cleaned up.”

I lead him toward the game room bathroom, but just as I reach for the handle, the door opens and Ben steps out.  He grins when he sees me, adjusting his shirt before I surprise him with a hug.

“I have to talk to you, but not right now,” I tell him with a significant raise of my eyebrows.

“Yeah, sure.  But, uh, I wouldn’t go in there.”  Ben puts his arm across the doorway, blocking me.  “I had some bad tacos for dinner.”

He waves a hand around theatrically, but his efforts are spoiled when the door opens further to reveal Katerinka, the foreign exchange student.  She appears startled to see us all standing there, and quickly slams the door shut.  I give Ben a disgusted look.  Bathroom sex?  Really?  And with Katerinka?!

“That is not what it looks like,” Ben says, smiling shamelessly.  He clears his throat.  “Use the bathroom upstairs.  More privacy.”

I smile my thanks, and pull Dean away.  He allows me to, remaining silent behind me.  I hope he doesn’t pass out on me, not before I can get him cleaned up.

I’ve never been upstairs before, so I pause at the landing, unsure where to go. 
Dean takes the lead, placing a hand on the small of my back as he guides me to the first door on the left.

I take a second to admire the bronze and gold theme of the bathroom, with tile that looks like stones, and a
tub that looks big enough to comfortably fit a family of four.  I should be used to rich boys and their beautiful homes by now, but I can’t help the stirrings of envy when I compare my bathroom to Ben’s.

Shaking my head of that shallow thought, I turn back to Dean.  He’s leaning against the counter, watching me with a guarded expression.  I find a clean washcloth in a linen closet, and run it under the warm water in the sink.

“Are you okay?” I ask as I clean the blood from his knuckles, as gently as possible.  “These cuts don’t look too bad, but we should…what’s wrong?”

Dean suddenly shakes his head.  He
pulls away, running both hands through his wet dark hair, and locking them behind his head as he stares at me.  The movement makes the muscles in his chest and arms bulge, and his damp shirt rides up in the front, revealing a sliver of his abs.  My mouth goes dry.  Given the circumstances, I should not be lusting after him right now.  But, damn.  Wet drunk Dean is
hot
.

“I thought you were gonna run,” he says, letting out a humorless chuckle.  “I was sure you’d never want to see me again.”

I set the washcloth down on the sink, and turn back to him.  “I thought about it,” I admit.  “That video was awful!  I felt so violated.  I can’t believe someone was watching while we…I don’t even want to think about it now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Dean.”  I sigh deeply, and look up at him.  “We need to talk.”

He suddenly pulls me close, his hands on my hips.  “Later,” he says, lowering his head to mine. 

“But—”

He swallows my words up with his kisses.  Deep, passionate ones that
have me clinging to him like a life preserver.  He turns us around so my back is against the counter.  I entwine my arms around his neck and press my body closer to his.  I can’t get close enough, and it makes me growl in frustration.

“I need you, Juliet,” Dean whispers, trailing kisses along my neck.  His hands move under my skirt, sliding slowly up my thighs.  “Right now.”

“I…”

I pull back a little a
nd look into his eyes, seeing the torment in them.  The raw intensity of his desire is scary, yet thrilling. My  body responds helplessly.  But it’s not the restless ache, or my own wild desire that has me reaching for him.  This isn’t about sex as much as it is about comfort and need.  I would do anything to drive out that look of pain and uncertainty lingering in his face.

Dean’s hands are paused at my thighs, waiting for me to decide.  “Okay,” I
say softly.

That’s all he needs.  His grips me under my thighs, and I’m lifted onto the counter with a forcefulness that has my nerves singing with excitement.  He moves to stand between my legs, and cups my face in his hands.

“This is going to be fast and hard,” Dean warns me, breathing hard.

I lick my lips very deliberately.  “Just try to keep up with me.”

His answering grin is so full of dark promise that I experience a tiny bit of maidenly terror.  Eek.  I should’ve kept my big mouth shut.

Despite his warning, Dean
takes the time to make sure I’m ready for him.  When he discovers that I’m all set, he seems to lose control.  Buttons go flying and underwear is ripped—and I am so completely turned on that all I can think is “more, more, more!”  I thought I would let him take charge, and hold on for dear life—but I find myself desperate to consume as much of him as possible…demanding, taking…begging.  I want to hold on to these desperate lovely feelings, but Dean’s got me hurtling to the edge at breakneck speed.

“You own me,”
he breathes in my ear, and with that one push, I go flying.

After, we stay joined together, trying to catch our breaths. 
My ears are ringing, and I can’t see anything.  I’m hoping these are temporary aftereffects, but if not…so totally worth it.  Dean says something, but I don’t catch it.

“What?” I ask uncertainly.

“Are you okay?” he repeats.

“Yeah, I think so.”  I giggle
weakly, playing with the black cord around his neck.  Seeing him wear the necklace I got for him makes me smile all over.

“Shit.”  Dean bows his head.  When he looks back up, his face is serious.  “I didn’t use a condom.”

“I know.”

I give a little shrug.  He knows I’m on the pill, and we’ve discussed our
sexual health and histories—and we both got clean bills of health from recent doctor visits.  Also, it’s the wrong time of month for me to get pregnant—I keep track with a handy app on my phone.

“I’ve never done it without a condom before,” Dean says, watching my face carefully.

“Hm.  How did it feel?”

He exhales a husky laugh.  “Fucking awesome.”

Sober Dean would have never said that.  I smile at him, shaking my head.  But my amusement is short-lived when I take stock of myself.  My bra is ripped in half, and most of the buttons on my (wet)  blouse are missing.  I don’t even know where my panties…oh, there’s part of it, stuck to Dean’s pant leg.

“I can’t go out like this,” I whisper, mortified.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, not sounding sorry at all.

“Well, what am
I gonna do?  Do you have a jacket downstairs, or something?”

Dean opens his mouth to reply, but
then glances down at me with a frown.  He takes my right hand in his, holding it up to the light.  “What the hell happened to your hand?” he growls.

Oh, now that I see my bruised and swollen knuckles—it hurts!  Taking my hand back, I wince.  “I hit something,” I say, repeating his words.  “I’ll explain later.  Right now, I just want to get cleaned up.”

Dean studies me for a few seconds, then gives a curt nod.  “I’d offer you my shirt, but it’s still pretty wet.  Why don’t you get cleaned up, and I’ll ask Ben if you can borrow something?”