Straddling the Edge (13 page)

“Jammed? Banged?” I chuckle. “How about pummeled?”

“Pummeled sounds dangerous. How about we not put a word to it and we let our bodies do the talking?” Dean traces the path from my hip down the V to my center. I’m already wet and ready. I was the moment I was awake enough to feel his hands and breath on me. He slides his fingers along my entrance before he slips a finger between my folds. I gasp at the amazing feeling of the intrusion, opening my legs further apart so he has better access. “I love the way your body talks to me.”

I reach behind me with one arm, cradling the back of his head and grasping a fistful of his messy thick hair. “My body loves your touch.” My hips buck against his big hand and I almost lose it when Dean kicks it up a notch with an assault on my neck, sucking hard, and dragging his teeth along my sensitive flesh. “I think it’s time for him to do the talking,” I say, pushing my bottom into his erection.

“I like the way you think, sweetheart.” Dean places a quick kiss on my neck and then sits up, holding onto me so I don’t fall back without his body to lean on. Now on my back, I watch my naked Sexy Guy reach over me to my nightstand. Unable to keep my hands to myself, I drag my fingertips up and down his side, along his muscular legs, over his chest, and to his neck until he’s sheathed and poised over me, his tip pushing against my opening. I wait, holding my breath, for the moment he will start to slide into me. And when that moment comes, I savor every last minute of it.

The more time I spend with Dean, the more favorites I have about him. I used to think my favorite thing was the way he looks when he gets out of the shower. Or the way he holds a door open for me. Or falling asleep on the couch in his arms. But by far, my favorite thing about him is waking up in the safety of his arms. In such a short time, he’s had the ability to knock down every preconceived notion I had about the opposite sex. He’s earned my trust with his actions and his words and I have no doubt that his sincerity is true.

He went home to pack a bag and should be back in a few minutes. He hasn’t even been gone for more than an hour and I already miss him. Every time I hear a car door shut I have to fight going to the window to see if it’s him walking up the path. I do, however, stare at the fridge where he attached a sticky note. “Dean +
Summer” is scribbled on it with a heart around our names. It’s cute and it makes me smile.

I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. Smiling. Laughing. Enjoying life. It’s amazing the positive effect one person with great energy and a kind heart can have on you.

There’s a knock and I yell, “Come in.”

Dean walks through the door with a scowl on his face. “What if it wasn’t me at the door?”

“I wasn’t expecting anyone else.”

“You never are
, but that doesn’t mean someone else might not show up.”

“Good point.”

He struts toward me, holds out his hand to me, and pulls me from my seat at my breakfast nook. “Just be careful,” he says, circling his arms around my waist. “And lock your doors, would you?” His lips graze my forehead and I melt at his touch.

“Sure.” I rest my head against his chest and take a deep breath, inhaling his familiar scent and going gooey all over. He makes me feel like a little girl in love with her teenage heartthrob. “So what’s the plan for today?”

He holds me tighter, and I can feel the slight shake of laughter in his belly. “It’s a surprise.”

Dean is full of surprises. First, the couples massage at that beautiful resort and now this.

As we head westbound toward Los Angeles, my mind starts whirling with ideas.

“Santa Monica Pier?” is my first guess.

He reaches over his center console and grasps my hand. “You’re funny.” He shakes his head. “But wrong.”

Another mile or so goes by and I come up with another one. “Hollywood? Walk of Fame?” His arched brow tells me I’m off again. We’re nearing the junction where the freeway splits in three different directions. “Manuel’s. You’re taking me to El Tepeyac so I can eat the giant burrito from Man vs. Food?”

He releases my hand and wiggles my ponytail. “Are you serious?” He laughs. “You want to eat a five pound burrito?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” I give him a serious look and he appears amused. “My dad is obsessed with the show. We try and hit as many Food TV restaurants as possible. That just happens to be one of them. It was delicious. But my favorite is their guacamole. Their taquitos are to die for.” My stomach growls at the thought.

“Well, we’re not going today. Maybe some other time. I’d love to see you attack something that huge.”

I wiggle my brow up and down. “I bet you would.”

He takes my hand and I try to think again as
we continue moving from the 10 Freeway to the 101 North.

“
Olvera Street? Chinatown?”

“I haven’t been there since my elementary school graduation trip. But no.”

I peer out the window watching the skyscrapers pass by in slow motion. The traffic is just a tad congested compared to what it would be like on a weekday. “Pink’s Hot dogs?” I shout, but he merges onto the 110 so I know the famous hot dog stand is out of the question.

“Are you hungry or something?” He glances at me with a smirk. “They do have hot dogs where we’re going. Kinda famous for them, in fact,” he says as he takes the Hill Street exit.

“Oh. My. God. Are you kidding me?” He slows down to a stop at the traffic signal and I click off my seatbelt and throw my arms around his neck, kissing his cheeks, lips, and any other skin that’s accessible.

He smiles like a giddy little kid and I know I’m right. “You’re crazy. Put your seatbelt back on. The light just changed.” He chuckles. “You can attack me with your sweet lips in the parking lot.”

I flop back in my seat and secure my belt and can’t help but smile like a freak for the rest of the trip up the hill. My knee bounces up and down uncontrollably as we come to a crawl behind the thousands of other people headed in the same direction.

Dean places a hand on my leg. “You’re really that excited, aren’t you?”

“Yes! I am. I can’t believe this is your surprise, especially after what you sprung on me last night.”

He winces. “Just don’t tell any of my friends, okay?” he jokes. Dean pays for parking and we cruise through the lanes
until we’re directed into a row and come to stop in an empty stall.

After taking the long walk up a few flights of stairs, I get chills when I see the entrance and catch a glimpse of the welcome sign, “The Los Angeles Dodger
s Welcome You to Dodger Stadium.” Dean squeezes my hand and I pull him along until we’re at the gate.

“I wish I would’ve known where we were going. I’m not wearing any Dodger Blue.” I glance down at my casual attire. Jean capris, white
Keds, and a stripped hot pink and white tee.

“Maybe you can get something at one of the stores inside.”

“Good idea. It’s going to get chilly by the time the game’s over. I’ll even buy you your first Dodger sweatshirt if you want.” I bump my hip into him, knowing he’s probably ready to gag. I know I would if he tried to dress me in anything with a big red A and a halo around it.

“Um. No thanks. The only thing in Dodger Blue I’m willing to wear is you.”

My mouth drops, forming an O around my lips. “Well that can definitely be arranged.” I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder, and he puts his arm around me as we wait for our turn to pass through security and scan the tickets Dean printed at his house.

When he shows me the tickets, I
’m shocked senseless. He really knows how to surprise a girl. He’s secured field level seats under the overhang so we’re not blinded by the sun for the first part of the game. He just shrugs when I tell him he’s truly spoiling me.

We scope out our seats before going to a
merchandise stand for my new hoodie. Dean says he doesn’t get cold, and I finally discover one typical man thing about him. I scan the options on a pin board hanging on a wall behind the cashier.

“Can I see the zip-up in a medium,” I tell the young girl whose working. I’ve been eyeballing this sweatshirt all season and now I finally have an excuse to buy it. I hold it up, feeling the soft fleece and running my fingers over the trademark Dodger symbol. “I’ll take it.” I hand the clothing back to the cashier so she can ring it up and open my purse so I can take out my card, but before I can, Dean has giv
en her a card of his own. “Dean.” I put my hand on his forearm in protest. “No. You already bought these tickets. You don’t need to buy me anything else.”

“I know I don’t have to, sweetheart. I want to.” He winks. “Maybe I enjoy spoiling you.” The cashier gives him his card
and he signs for the purchase before taking the bag from the girl and passing it to me.

“Thank you.” I cuff my hand around his arm and we walk side by side to another concession stand, but one with food this time. “Well, maybe I’d like to spoil you sometime.”

He laughs softly. “Not here, you won’t.”

And I have to laugh right along with him.

After getting four Dodger Dogs, two orders of fries—one garlic and one regular—and two large Blue Moon’s, we make our way to our seats.

“You suck, you know that?” he says when we’re finally sitting down.

I can hear the teasing in his tone and it makes me smile. “Why? What did I do?”

“You know exactly what you did.”

I don’t say anything. I just take my time getting comfortable, taking a sip of my beer and putting it in
the cup holder in front of me. I take a handful of napkins out of my pocket and finally sit back and unwrap my dog.

When I don’t utter a word, he speaks up. “Well, don’t do it again,
Summer. Don’t hijack my date, or my surprise.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumble through a mouthful of dog. But, of course, I know exactly what he’s talking about. I paid for our food and beer. Before the cashier could even tell us our total, I stuck my card in her face. Dean tried to protest but I pushed his hand away. He still hasn’t taken a bite of his food. Instead he’s trying to give me the evil eye but it doesn’t work. It comes off
more as a playful pout. “Fine, I won’t do it again. I’ll just wait until it’s my turn to surprise you.”

“Dean, I thought that was you, bro.”

I look up to see a rather tall blonde dude in a Dodger shirt standing in the aisle next to our seats. I glance at Dean and he winces, shaking his head before he reaches over me to hold out his hand.

“Hey, man. You caught me,” Dean says, slapping hands with the guy.

“I sure did. I should probably get the hell out of here before lightning strikes down on the stadium.” He holds up his phone, seemingly taking a picture of Dean. “This is going on Facebook, bro. No one will ever believe I saw you at Dodger stadium.”

I crack up at the exchange, knowing very well Dean probably wants to shrink in his seat.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He places his hand on my thigh. “This is Ted, one of my best friends. And like you, he doesn’t know any better and he’s a fan of the wrong team.”

“I like Ted already,” I tell Dean, smiling at his friend. “I’m
Summer.”

Ted smiles. “I know who you are. This guy hasn’t shut up about you for weeks.”

“I’ve heard about you too. Dean just forgot to tell me about your good taste in baseball teams.”

Ted gives me a good once over and looks back at Dean. “Lucky bastard,”
he says. “We’ll have to get together soon. I think you’ve hogged Summer long enough.” To me he says, “My wife is dying to meet you.”

“That sounds great,” I say.

“I’ll call you,” Dean says as his friend starts to walk away.

Ted turns back and points a finger at him. “Don’t make me wait long.”

The game is slow moving through the first four innings against the D-Backs. Neither t
eam has crossed home plate. It looks like they’re playing a game of catch out there. Dean keeps getting ribbing texts from his friends about being whipped after seeing his picture on various social media websites. He just shakes his head at each one and shoves his phone back into his front pocket.

I’d like to get out of my seat to hit the restroom after drinking
the rather large beer, but I know as soon as I leave something exciting will happen.

“Oh, screw it,” I tell Dean, who appears startled. “I have to pee but I don’t want to miss anything.” I stand and look down at the smirk on his face. “What? Would you miss the game to take a leak?”

“Hell yeah. When nature calls, it calls. And missing a good play when the score is zilch wouldn’t be so bad. At least you’ll come back to a better game.”

I bend down to kiss his cheek before I take off to the nearest girls’ room.

When I return, I already know I missed something good. I could hear the roar of the crowd as I was washing my hands.

“What’d I miss?” I study the scoreboard. No outs, a Dodger on first and third.

“A hit and a stolen base.” He sits back and curves his arms along the back of my chair. I’d like to lean into his touch, but I can’t leave the edge of my seat.