Authors: M. Lynne Cunning
“I had a great time, Sarah,” he said. It could have been his expression of uncertainty, but suddenly Dean he seemed younger than Lauren initially thought.
“Me too, Dean. Thank you for being so persistent in inviting me out.”
Dean chuckled, shrugging. “I guess sometimes persistence truly can pay off. Thank you for allowing me to take you out.” Lauren unlocked her dorm door and took a step toward the threshold. Dean reached out and gently placed his hand on her side to stop her. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, and his eyes had that look again, the smoldering intensity threatening to come undone. That look made Lauren wonder what it would be like to unleash that intensity and let it run wild with her own.
“Dean.” Her voice was as low as a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’ll see you in class on Monday, okay?” She held his gaze, and instantly wondered if he could see through her transparent words. His fingers remained on her side for a moment longer, then she watched as he reluctantly took a step away.
“Of course. You have a good night.” His smile was warm but he appeared defeated. Lauren felt a pang of guilt at rejecting him.
“You too, Dean.” She backed into the dorm room and dug into the clutch for her cell.
Lauren closed the door with a gentle click and, even though she wasn’t sure why, she dialed Michael’s cell number. Even if he didn’t want her to call, she had to lessen her guilt. The call didn’t ring but went straight to his voice mail.
Michael had turned his phone off.
A moment later, Lauren saw the text that had chimed in earlier at the bar. In bold letters was the short text from Libby.
Be brave, Sarah. He’s worth it.
She wasn’t sure when she made the decision, before or after slipping out of the pumps that pinched her feet and made it difficult to walk, or when she turned off her own cell phone. Either way, she pushed her thoughts and worries into the deepest depths of her mind as she realized selfishly, in that moment, that no one else mattered to her.
Before she knew it, she was pulling open the door and barreling into the hallway. Evidently, Dean had been of the same unsettled mindset. She crashed into his chest outside her door. She looked up at him, into his yearning eyes, and said the only thing she wanted to say in that moment.
“Stay. Please.”
The sunlight streamed blindingly through the open window of Lauren’s dorm room, and she squinted as her eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness. She reached beside her bed for her cell to check the time, but felt only the scratchy carpeting of the floor. Her eyes opened a bit more and suddenly a flood of awareness came over her. Her cell phone wasn’t where she always left it. The curtains weren’t drawn the way she usually kept them to prevent the invasion of the morning sunlight. Steady, rhythmic breathing could be heard close beside her. Seeing as Lauren was holding her own, she knew the breath was not hers.
Dean. My God
, she thought to herself as a flurry of images from late last night bombarded her mind. The taste of urgency in his kiss, the fury of fingertips and tender touches as they stripped away any material that prevented their heated skin from touching, the tangled sheets that twisted and cocooned their bodies as they moved together in passionate unison. Lauren stifled the groan that yearned to escape from her mouth, an audible exclamation of shock and disbelief at her actions.
With as little movement as possible, she lifted her head from the pillow and peered out through tangled hair at her room. The lamp had been knocked to the floor, but thankfully it wasn’t broken. There were articles of clothing strewn carelessly across the floor and desk chair. Lauren’s laptop had been slid to the far corner of her desk, and she vividly remembered why. She would never be able to look at that desk the same way again.
“Good morning.”
The words struck Lauren’s ears loudly in the silence of the room. She squeezed her eyes shut, counted to three to regain her composure, and then turned to face Dean’s lopsided grin. His dark hair was no longer gelled to perfection. A messy bed-headed look remained. His eyes still carried the remnants of sleep.
“Hey,” Lauren whispered uneasily. She pulled the sheets up against her as she awkwardly sat up in bed. A twin-sized bed was confining enough for one person. Two made it extremely restrictive when trying to move without touching the other person at the same time.
“What time is it?”
“I don’t know. I can’t find my phone.”
“Can’t imagine why.” The amusement in Dean’s voice made Lauren blush.
She turned away from him, searching for something to put on so she could get out of bed and put some distance between her and the heat she could still feel radiating from him. She caught sight of her cell phone on top of the dresser, splayed out with the rest of the contents of the clutch purse she’d been carrying the night before. She avoided Dean’s gaze as she pulled the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her as quickly as she could, leaving him covered in only the sheet.
As Lauren made her way across the room and fidgeted to get her phone turned on, Dean sat up in bed, letting the sheet fall to his waist. Lauren made the mistake of letting her eyes flit upward from the phone screen to the sight of his bare abdomen, and immediately she felt a smoldering sense of wanting reverberate through her. A memory of that abdomen suspended above her as her fingers grazed along the edge of the tattoo between his shoulder blades made her let out a sigh before quickly returning her gaze to the phone in front of her. She had to focus, and not on Dean.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, his expression slowly turning into one of uncertainty.
“I’m just…I mean, I’m not sure…” She struggled with the words to express her feelings. Her rational side was screaming at her in frustration and anger over what she had done last night. A twinge of guilt and disbelief was etching itself into her mind, and she struggled with the knowledge that she had just been unfaithful to Michael. Never in a million years did she ever believe she was capable of doing such an unfair thing to him. However, she had done it within less than a month of being away from him and the home they’d built together.
And she’d enjoyed it. She didn’t feel nearly as guilty for it as she knew she should, and suddenly she wasn’t remotely sure how she should be reacting. Is this how wives who cheat on their husbands usually felt? There couldn’t possibly be this little remorse in doing such a heinous act. As Lauren looked up to meet Dean’s eyes, she knew why she was so separated from her emotions regarding last night. In her mind, she was already telling herself that Sarah had been the one to sleep with Dean.
“Sarah…”
His voice brought her out of her own thoughts and she immediately dropped her focus back to her phone. The phone began to buzz repeatedly, numerous texts and voice mail messages coming in now that the phone was turned on. Libby had wanted to know how last night went. The voice message was from Nadine’s number. She would check it later. It was the two texts and one voice mail from Michael that made her realize the magnitude of what she had done. Short and to the point, Michael’s words caused her guilt to grow.
I’m sorry
, the first one said.
I miss you
, said the second.
“Sarah.” Dean’s voice was more demanding this time, and she raised her head to look at him. She set the phone back down on the dresser and stood there, just staring at him.
“It’s almost eight-thirty in the morning,” she said absently.
He gave a sigh and patted the bed beside him. “Come here.” When she didn’t move, he added, “Please.” Hesitantly, she sat back down on the bed beside him, not once loosening her hold on the blanket wrapped so tightly around her naked body. She gave him an apologetic look, waiting for him to speak.
“Why do I feel like we did something wrong?” he asked bluntly.
Lauren thought for a moment, unsure how to respond. “Maybe we did.”
“I’d have to say I disagree with you,” he replied bluntly, causing Lauren to arch an eyebrow at him. He seemed so sure, and she wondered how he could be. When she didn’t respond, Dean continued.
“You can’t tell me that last night was wrong, Sarah. You came down that hallway looking for me just as I was heading back to you. We wanted each other, and there’s no shame in that. Hell, I wanted you then and I still want you. You can say last night was a lot of things, but wrong isn’t one of them.”
She watched as his fingers crept slowly across the sheet and slid gently to her bare arm. Goosebumps raised along her skin as he touched her. When his fingers tightened around her forearm and gave her a soft tug toward him, she relented, letting her body lean into him. With her ear pressed against the heat of his chest, she could hear his heart beating rapidly. She was struck by the wave of satisfaction she felt at knowing his increased pulse rate was because of her.
Lauren brought her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as she struggled to explain herself.
You’re not Sarah
, she repeated shrilly in her mind, trying desperately to keep her focus and remember this was a mistake. The comfort she felt with his arms around her made her words all the more difficult to whisper.
“Even if it wasn’t wrong, Dean, it can’t happen again.”
“This can’t be it, Sarah.”
Lauren lifted her head from his chest and looked at him squarely. “You’re not like most other college guys, are you? From what I hear, you should be thrilled right now that I’m trying to let you off the hook. You know, no strings attached and all that?”
Dean leaned his head back, his forehead crinkling. “Well, I guess I’m not like most college guys then, if that’s what the criteria is.” He almost sounded annoyed that she would assume such a thing about him. “If I were like most of those eighteen-year-old punks in the front row of our class, then I certainly wouldn’t have sought out the most intelligent, most beautiful woman in the class. If sex was all I was after, I can guarantee you that I wouldn’t have remained so persistent. I’m about more than sex, and I’m pretty sure you are as well. That’s why we’re here right now.”
“How old are you?” Lauren asked while her mind fought to catch up in processing his statement and its meaning.
“Twenty-four.”
He was five years younger than she was. “Don’t you want to know how old I am?” Lauren asked.
“Not really. Besides, a gentleman never asks a lady her age.”
“That’s a smart man.”
“No, Sarah, that’s a real man.”
The room grew silent, but the challenging stares between them spoke volumes. He was fed up with Lauren trying to push him away, and she was tired of explaining the cons of their situation.
“Give me a chance here, Sarah.” His voice came out as a soft plea. She watched him run his hand through his tousled hair. Instantly, she had the urge to reach out and feel his hair once again beneath her fingertips.
“I will. I am, Dean. Just give me a little time though, okay?” She didn’t quite know what she was going to do with that time, but at least it would be something to work with.
“I can live with that.” He leaned forward and kissed her bare shoulder, staring up at her through his eyelashes. “Just don’t shut me out,” he whispered against her skin. A shiver of longing traveled up Lauren’s spine as his lips touched her skin in such a delicate manner.
“Damn those eyelashes of yours,” she muttered with a playful grin.
“I told you, don’t be jealous,” he chuckled, matching her playful tone. “You’re beautiful. You’re Sarah.”
Her extracurricular activities with Dean on Friday night put her behind in her writing by almost a full day. By the time she’d convinced him he had to leave on Saturday, it was close to the afternoon when she finally got her room straightened up again and sat down in front of her laptop with the intent of adding to her word count. Unfortunately, her mind was stuck on recounting her time with Dean. Instead of not writing, Lauren opened another blank document on her screen and began to write the scene of Sarah and her male love interest, Daniel, after weeks of subtle flirtatiousness and unwavering sexual tension, meeting in a small office together. There, they threw caution to the wind and finally gave in to their undeniable desire for each other.
The words came rapidly and consistently, and Lauren was convinced she could close her eyes and just allow her hands to deliver the story. With each word, she not only saw the written word itself but also the memory it represented, the fever and passion she recalled. The darkness of the room, lit only by the pale moon and city lights dancing below, the gasps and sounds of unabashed need and desire, the unbearable heat and ache that seemed almost intolerable and unquenchable. Lauren’s fingers flew across the keyboard, matching her increasing pulse rate.
She had taken her novel in an edgier direction than planned, but the more she contemplated its plot line, the more she liked it. While her first book had been published by a small company in Texas and only had moderate sales, she was convinced that, if she could pull off the plot line that was emerging, she might be able to take her writing career to the next level. She could write the book she longed to be known for, the book that mimicked real life to the point where the reader failed to see the boundary between reality and fiction. Her goal was to have a storyline that allowed that kind of absorption.
Monday’s class rolled around too soon for her liking.
“Where in the world have you been?” Libby hissed loudly into her ear, and Lauren stopped on her way down the central aisle.
“I thought you were going to be away today?” she asked. Three texts from Libby had come through on her phone over the weekend, and even though she hadn’t answered any of them because she wasn’t sure what she would say, she was sure one of them had mentioned Libby not being in class because she had to travel home for some reason.
“What? Are you kidding? And miss out on hearing the juicy details of your Friday night escapades with Dean? A team of wild horses couldn’t have dragged me away from being here today.” Libby’s smile was wide as she rubbed her hands together, ready for Lauren to dish out the details.
Lauren rolled her eyes and gave her a sideways grin. “Please, you’re making me sound way more interesting than I am. There is very little to tell.” She finished walking down the remaining few stairs and side-stepped into the fourth row, Libby following closely behind her. “And if you don’t mind, I’d rather you kept it down, okay? Not everyone needs to hear our conversation.” Lauren cast a glance back at her to make sure she understood.
“So there
is
something you want to keep hush-hush!” Libby plopped down in the seat beside her, stamping her feet in delight. “I knew it. I knew it the moment you didn’t return my first text. Tell me, your place or his?” Libby bit her lip in a gesture to stifle her excitement. Two girls in the row in front of Lauren turned around to glance questioningly at her. They’d undoubtedly overheard. Lauren gave Libby a warning glance, and she held up her hands in mock surrender, mouthing, “Sorry,” after the two girls turned back around.
“There is nothing to tell, Libby.”
Libby pretended to cough, muttering, “Liar,” as she did so. One thing was for certain, she was enjoying herself.
“We had drinks at the campus pub. We listened to a live band. End of story.” Lauren’s voice came out in a loud whisper. She pulled her notebook and printed pages of her latest assignment from her bag, focusing on it more than she needed to.
Anthony had been especially excited to deliver the instructions for their assignment on Friday, a modern interpretation of any classic or historical piece of literature his students wished to cover. Lauren had been so sure that most of the class would choose to modernize the love story of Romeo and Juliet that she had chosen to use the premise of The Telltale Heart instead. Anyone who was anyone knew that story, and she honestly believed Edgar Allan Poe deserved a spot in each and every assignment she did if she could manage it. However, she wasn’t sure she’d ever hear Poe’s words the same way again now that she’d heard his poetic prose uttered from the lips of a man about to kiss her feverishly.
“End of story? You mean, that’s really all you’re going to tell me?” Libby pretended to pout. All of a sudden her eyes lit up as she looked past Lauren. That expression could only mean one thing.
“Good morning, ladies,” Dean said, his voice calm.
Lauren turned to meet his gaze. He held out a steaming cup of coffee.
“Dark roast. Just the way you like it, Sarah.”
He seemed so pleased with himself that Lauren had to fight the urge to pretend it
wasn’t
how she liked it at all. However, she could smell the distinct enticing aroma and it made her body ache with the need for a strong caffeine fix. She flashed him a grin, content to let him believe he knew her well.
“Thank you, Dean.” As she took the cup, she realized he was also passing her a small slip of paper pressed against it. His eyes met hers for a moment, letting her know he meant for her to read it when she was alone.
“You’ll be sitting with us?” Lauren asked in an attempt to sound composed.
“Nah.” Dean ducked his head toward the other side of the room where empty seats remained in the third row. “I’ll be taking in the lecture from over there. Fewer distractions.”
Lauren didn’t even bother to look in Libby’s direction. She knew she would be bursting at the seams with gossip-hungry delight. Besides, she could tell from Dean’s expression that he was enjoying both her and Libby’s reactions. Her eyes were narrowed, lips pursed tightly as she watched him slipping deep into thought.
“Have a good day, ladies.” Dean gave her one last smug grin and turned to make his way across the room. Lauren watched him, putting off having to turn and see the amusement on Libby’s face.
“Nothing to tell, huh?” Libby whispered emphatically.
Thankfully, Anthony showed up and prevented her from having to answer. While Libby dug for her assignment in her bag, Lauren pretended to dig through hers on the other side of her chair, setting the cup of coffee on the floor while she unfolded the small piece of paper Dean had given her. On it, his calligraphy-like writing boasted the words:
We haven’t spoken since Saturday. You can’t avoid me forever. Meet me at the cafe or I’m coming over to your place tonight. Your choice.
Almost as an afterthought, one more word was scrawled at the bottom:
Please.
Lauren tucked the paper into her bag and cast a glance in his direction. Not surprisingly, he was watching her. He arched an eyebrow in her direction as a way of questioning.
Well?
If she had to choose, she would rather face him in a public place. That way, there’d be no chance of her giving in to how much she wanted him. She answered him by picking her coffee back up from the floor and tilting it toward him, nodding slightly as she sat back up straight.
It looked as though she was going to have plenty of opportunity to become an all-day coffee drinker.