Until the Sun Sets Page 9

  “Me too,” she said, not trusting herself to say anything more.

  She wasn’t sure how long they floated together, kissing and touching and teasing. Stroking and tasting. Whispering and laughing and splashing. By the time they swam for the shore, her fingers were wrinkled, shriveled like prunes. They dashed toward their clothes, sand sticking to their feet and legs.

  Dean picked up his shirt and pants, laughing softly. “I . . . did not think this through.”

  She laughed too, fighting to get back into her dress as it clung to her wet skin. “Yeah, well, it’s better than flashing the whole resort and having to go to Mexican jail for indecent exposure.”

  With his pants and shirt back on, he took her hand. “Come on. Let’s go back to the room so we can get out of these wet clothes.”

  “And then what do you want to do? Watch cartoons?” she joked.

  He let out a chuckle. “No. But I do have a move called the ‘Road Runner’ I’m dying to show you.” His eyebrows bounced, and she laughed again.

  As they crossed the bridge over the mangroves, a resort security golf cart drove across the sand behind them, lights shining in the darkness. They both stifled a laugh and started walking a bit faster.

  “Cheese it! It’s the fuzz,” she said, putting on an old-timey voice.

  “Then we best not lollygag, see,” he said, imitating the voice back to her. It was something they did at the bar, goofing off and joking around. It felt so good to laugh with him, here, now, as though maybe things wouldn’t be different when they got home.

  Laughing, they ran back to their room, and without any lollygagging whatsoever, Carly was on her knees in front of Dean, his cock hard against her lips, warm and smooth against her tongue, as she showed him how good she could make him feel.

  Chapter Eight

  White gauze fluttered against the gazebo as the sun sank low on the horizon, coloring the underbellies of the few clouds a vibrant pink. A white runner, strewn with red rose petals, led from the bridge emerging onto the beach and up to the gazebo. A warm breeze blew, stirring the rose petals and kicking up their scent. Hurricane lanterns filled with candles sat in every corner, and heavy clumps of white tropical flowers ran along the sides of the gazebo.

  Luke stood at the front in a dark blue suit, Matt and Ethan beside him. As the bridesmaids made their way down the aisle, Carly slipped her hand into Dean’s. When he turned to look at her, he was surprised to see the emotion written all over her face, plain as day. Something clenched, right in the center of his chest, at how openly happy she was for Luke and Christie, despite the fact that she barely knew them. She was touched, and it made him want to pull her into his arms, just so he could pull some of that sweetness into himself. Because damn, that sweetness felt good.

  Too good.

  The music changed, everyone stood, and Christie appeared, looking beautiful and radiant as she walked down the aisle on her father’s arm. She smiled, practically glowing at Luke as she walked toward him. With her lacy white dress shimmering in the fading sunlight, her blond hair falling around her shoulders in soft curls, she looked almost angelic. But it was Luke who’d stolen Dean’s attention, because he’d never seen an expression of such open love and devotion on a man’s face before. As though Luke would lay down his life for her, and die happy for it. As though she was his entire world, his entire reason for existing.

  So much vulnerability. So much potential for pain. So much risk. To love someone the way Luke clearly loved Christie meant letting yourself get swallowed up in it. Honestly, it was so fucking terrifying, Dean had no idea how people did it. How could you trust that person not to hurt you? How could you trust yourself not to hurt someone you loved so much?

  How? He wanted to understand, but it was as though love—the kind that Luke and Christie shared, the real, forever kind—was a foreign language, the entire concept leaving him lost and clueless.

  But you can learn a new language, said a tiny voice inside him as Luke and Christie exchanged their vows. If you want to. If you try.

  Carly sniffled beside him, wiping at a tear.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, giving her hand a squeeze. “Why are you crying?”

  She shrugged and wiped at her eyes. “It’s silly.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  She sighed and leaned into him as she spoke in a whispered voice. “I’m happy for them. And sad for myself, because I want what they have. And it doesn’t seem to matter how hard I try, or where I look, I haven’t found someone who just wants me for me. I’m never enough.”

  And there went that clench inside his chest again. He dipped his head and brushed his lips against her ear. “You are enough, sweetheart. And the man who’ll see that, who’ll see how awesome you are, he’s out there. You’ll find him.”

  She looked up at him, unshed tears clinging to her eyelashes, and held his gaze for a long moment. Something shifted in the air between them, a tension, a longing, but she looked away, and it was gone.

  He didn’t want to take back the time they’d had together, but at the same time, he knew he had to start untangling the confusing knot of his emotions when it came to Carly, so they could transition back to what they’d had before. But he couldn’t seem to find the right string to pull, because every time he tugged, that knot only got tighter.

  He shoved it all away, concentrating on enjoying the wedding, on enjoying the time he had left with Carly before things went back to normal. He knew they had to. He couldn’t give her what she wanted. What she deserved. It would be so selfish to even try. He didn’t know how to be someone’s forever man. All he knew how to do was have fun and bail when things got real.

  Christie and Luke kissed, everyone cheered, and the newlyweds wandered off down the beach for pictures. Beside the gazebo, several small round tables had been set up, along with a bar and a long table where resort staff were currently putting out food. The white table cloths fluttered in the breeze, and as the sun sank lower in the sky, strings of fairy lights wrapped around the towering palms flickered to life, glowing softly in the fading daylight. Upbeat pop music began playing from a portable sound system, signaling the official start of the party.

  Dean had honestly never thought about his wedding given that he didn’t see himself ever getting married, but he had to admit that getting married on the beach, at sunset, with the lights, and flowers, and shit . . . yeah, it was pretty romantic, in a terrifying kind of way.

  Carly rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “You okay? You’re a million miles away.”

  “Yeah. Sorry. Just, you know. Taking it all in.” He flashed her a smile. She smiled back, her expression open and real. Happy, and beautiful, the skirt of her peach-colored dress flowing around her legs. The turquoise necklace he’d bought her hung around her delicate neck.

  So goddamn beautiful, inside and out. So sweet, so alive, so gorgeously responsive and fun in bed. So many things he had no right to want.

  “It was a nice ceremony,” she said, picking up a couple of hors d’oeuvres from a nearby platter. She popped one in her mouth and then sucked in a breath, fanning her mouth. “Ooh. Hot. Sorry,” she mumbled, and then sucked in another breath.

  “It was,” he said, trying not to laugh at how adorable she was. He took a couple of hors d’oeuvres for himself, and they mingled with the other guests while waiting for Luke and Christie to return. When they did, another round of applause rose up, and dinner was served. The music played, the champagne flowed, and the sky darkened from a vibrant blue to a dusky purple, and then to a deep indigo, verging on black.

  After the toasts, and the food, and the champagne, Dean pulled Carly onto the makeshift dance floor, which was nothing but a dozen interlocking black-and-white rubber mats laid on the sand.

  She bent her elbows and raised her forearms, swishing them back and forth in time to the music. “Look, Dean. The Windshield Wiper.” She shot him an open-mouthed smile, bopping her head as she danced.

  “
Oh, yeah? Check this out,” he said, bending one arm and putting his hand behind his head, then jerking that arm back and forth in time with the music. “The Sprinkler!”

  She laughed, snorting a little. “Yeah, but some sprinklers go like this,” she said, and waved her arms up and down.

  “And some sprinklers go like this!” He lunged for her, hands on her waist as he hoisted her over his shoulder. She shrieked with laughter as he spun her. Her scent drifted around him, filling his lungs, while her laughter filled his ears.

  And maybe his heart.

  He set her down just as the music changed from Bruno Mars to a much slower Adele song. Without taking his hands off of her, he pulled her into his arms, swaying with her to the slow tempo of the music, their bodies aligned.

  Her arms around his neck, she slid her fingers through the hair at his nape. “Do you think you’ll ever get married?” she asked suddenly, peering up at him, all the humor gone from her face.

  His stomach bottomed out, but he made himself answer. “I don’t know. Probably not.”

  “Why not?”

  He opened and closed his mouth, her follow-up question surprising him. He thought for several moments. Normally, he hated these kinds of conversations. But he found himself wanting to tell her the truth. “When my mom died, something shifted in me, Carly. Something broke, and it stayed broken. It’s been broken for so long that I don’t even know how to fix it, or if I can. I can’t open up with someone and be real. It’s too much for me.”

  She was quiet for the rest of the song, still swaying in his arms, and then looked up at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “I have news for you, Dean. You’ve been doing that with me all week, and guess what? You’re still standing.”

  Holy fuck. Fear shot through his veins like lightning, but along with the fear was something else. Something bigger and stronger, and all he knew was that he needed to be inside her. Now.

  * * *

  Carly sucked in a surprised breath as Dean grabbed her hand and tugged her through the wedding reception, cutting a swath through the guests. She didn’t say anything, just let him lead her back toward their building, her heart pounding in her chest. It felt too big for her body, filled with happiness for Luke and Christie, hope for herself. Filled with Dean, which she knew was dangerous and stupid given his baggage and his history, but she couldn’t help it. Over the past few days, she’d started to fall for him, and trying to change that, to stop the fall, would be like trying to put toothpaste back into the tube. Completely impossible. Utterly hopeless.

  They reached their hotel room, and he backed her up against the door, caging her in. Emotions flickered across his face, his eyes dark, intense. “Carly,” he whispered. Then he crushed his mouth to hers.

  She whimpered against him as his tongue caressed hers, and there was something different about his kiss this time. It was rougher, more demanding than the way he’d kissed her before. As though he were trying to claim her, to brand her with his mouth.

  As though she meant something to him. Something real.

  He was already hard, his cock thick and straining against her hip, and she rocked into him, feeding into the frenzied heat building between them. With a growl, he picked her up and backed her into the room. Her legs locked around his waist and she buried her face in his neck, inhaling him.

  He smelled like everything she’d ever wanted.

  He moved them across the room and tossed her onto the bed, tumbling down on top of her, claiming her mouth with another hot, hungry kiss. She liked him like this, wild and uninhibited, raw and real, as though he truly needed her. He tugged her dress down over her shoulders, just enough to free her breasts, and then his mouth was blazing a trail lower, biting and licking and sucking down her neck until his teeth scraped over her nipple.

  “Yes! Oh God, Dean,” she cried out, burying her hands in his hair. He soothed the bite with his tongue, and then sucked her nipple deep into his mouth. She arched up off the mattress, wanting more.

  Wanting so much more. From him. For them. And she couldn’t help but wonder if he did, too. What if he wanted the same thing she did, and he was letting fear hold him back?

  Maybe she’d have to take a risk and be brave for both of them.

  He ground his hips against her, and they both moaned. Finished with one breast, he moved on to the other, tormenting her nipple until she was panting, practically bucking beneath him.

  “Are you wet for me?” he asked, his voice rough in the darkness.

  “I’m always wet for you.”

  “Fuck, sweetheart.” He shoved her dress up and continued his downward path, dropping hot kisses on her stomach. Hooking his thumbs into her thong, he slid her underwear over her hips. She lifted them off the bed, making it easier for him. Wanting his mouth on her so badly her clit was already pulsing for him.

  He moved her legs apart with his shoulders and then pushed her legs back, leaving her open and exposed to him. He nipped at one of her lips, pulling gently with his teeth. “So pretty. So pink and swollen, all for me.” His voice was rough, his tone hot and possessive. He closed his mouth over her folds, his tongue moving over her in a slow swirl. Her hands fisted in the blankets, she cried out, her hips bucking as though she’d been shocked.

  And in a way she had. She’d never once imagined it would be like this with him, that they could have this.

  “You taste so good, Carly. So damn good.” He moaned against her slick flesh as he worked her with his lips, with his tongue, tormenting her as her insides coiled tight with hot, heavy pressure. He sucked her clit into his mouth as he eased two fingers into her, stroking her slowly from the inside as he devoured her from the outside, licking and sucking at her hungrily. Greedily. As though he couldn’t get enough.

  Her legs started to shake, and he curled his fingers upward as he circled her swollen clit with his tongue. A strangled cry fell from her lips, and the pressure that had been building inside her tightened to the point of bursting, and in a pulsing riot of heat, she came against his mouth in hot, heavy throbs.

  Her blood rushed through her ears, and she laid there, limp and sated, her dress rumpled around her waist. It was so good with him. So unbelievably good. A sudden lump formed in her throat at the idea that this might be all there was for them, but she swallowed it down.

  He stood from between her legs and quickly undressed, and while she watched his glorious body come into view, she sat up and managed to wrestle herself out of her disheveled dress. He came down on top of her, and she shuddered, basking in the sensation of being skin to skin with him, nothing separating them.

  Nothing except the walls he’d spent years building around his heart. Walls she so desperately wanted to knock down.

  He kissed her, and she could taste herself on his tongue. Fresh arousal flooded her, and she wrapped her legs around his hips.

  “I need you inside me. Please.” She felt empty, achy, frantic for him.

  “God, Carly,” he moaned, and she noticed that his hand was trembling as he fisted his cock and lined himself up with her entrance. She tilted her hips, giving him easier access, and slowly, slowly, he sank into her, his gaze holding hers the entire time. A warm sense of completion washed over her once he was deep inside, and she pulled him down for a kiss. His tongue stroking hers, he began to move his hips, the delicious drags of his cock sending sparks dancing across her skin.

  He stilled and broke the kiss, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. Looking down at her, his eyes were filled with wonder. Maybe even awe, and she felt as though her heart might literally skip a beat.

  “How do you feel so good? So perfect?” His voice was hoarse as he spoke. Not waiting for her to answer, he kissed her again, making love to her with slow, deep, steady thrusts. She traced her hands up his spine, weaving her fingers in his hair, holding him close. Not wanting to let him go.

  He picked up the pace, thrusting harder, deeper, and her entire world shrank to where they were joined. Hot pleasur
e wrapped itself around her, making her muscles shake, making her heart pound, and with a long, loud moan, she let go, her orgasm washing over her like cresting waves.

  “Oh, God,” Dean ground out, burying his face in her neck as he pumped his hips faster, harder, taking everything she had. He thrust once, twice more, his movements halting and jerky, and then swore as he came, his cock pulsing inside her.

  God, she wanted to keep him.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning, Dean woke up with Carly nestled into him, her cute little ass pressing into his cock. Sunlight teased in around the edges of the curtains, casting a soft, pink glow across the floor of their room. Last sunrise in Mexico. Now that the wedding was over, everyone was flying home later today—except for Luke and Christie, who were leaving on a cruise tomorrow, just the two of them, with Ethan traveling home with his grandparents.

  Dean began slowly kissing his way across Carly’s bare shoulders, her skin soft and warm under his mouth. She stirred, wriggling her hips into him before turning to face him.

  “Morning,” she said, her eyes still soft with sleep. So beautiful.

  “Morning.” He pulled her into his arms and let out a long sigh. “I don’t want to go home.”

  Her fingertips trailed over his chest. “Me neither.”

  “Back to normal.”

  “Mmm,” she murmured, but she tensed slightly in his arms. After a moment, she sat up, her bare breasts swaying and making him want to reach for her and pull her back down to him. Getting out of bed, she crossed the room and opened the curtains, letting the sunshine pour in. She climbed back in bed, pulling her knees up to her chest. Chewing on her bottom lip, she stared out the window. The back of Dean’s neck prickled, but he wasn’t sure why.

  Finally, she spoke. “Not everything has to go back to the way it was before, you know.” He met her eyes, which were filled with hope and something else. Something deep and raw, and . . .

  Fuck. He suddenly felt both too hot and too cold, and even though he wasn’t a religious man, he sent up a silent prayer.