Excerpt – The Hierarchy of Needs

© 2015 Rebecca Grace Allen

Dean whirled around. Sean hadn’t followed them. He wasn’t afraid of Jamie’s brother, but he didn’t want to have to take the guy out at his own wedding either.

“I think we’re safe,” he said. Jamie was too busy laughing to hear him.

She fell into a rounded booth in the corner and swung her legs up onto the middle of the cushion, her hands on her stomach as if it hurt to laugh. Her dress had inched up her thighs, the fabric clinging to her hips.

Hunger clawed at Dean at the sight of her body sprawled out like that. With her legs up on the seat, her head tossed back and her smile wide, she looked so relaxed. So free. So Jamie. He stopped at the edge of the table and stared at her legs, wanting so badly to be trapped between them, to finally be buried inside her, to feel her heat and watch her mouth drop open in pleasure.

What was he thinking? She was his friend. His friend. When was he going to get that through his skull?

Jamie finally stopped laughing. She sighed and smiled. “That. Was. Awesome.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty damn funny when you want to be.”

Another giggle fizzled out of her. She looked ridiculously pleased with herself.

“We should probably lay low for a few,” she said. “Until the rage gets out of Sean’s system.”

“Why do you do it?” he asked. “The jokes on your brothers.”

He’d always found her prankster nature amusing, but never understood why she did it.

She shrugged. “Someone’s gotta take them down a peg or two. Make them feel less like the gods they think they are.”

There was more she was covering up, something other than sibling rivalry, but he couldn’t get a handle on what it was.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” She patted the spot next to her. “Sit.”

She lowered her legs and scooted over so he could join her. Dean held himself still, tension like a live wire inside him. It was as if every bone, every fiber in his body was dragging him forward, a magnet being pulled toward true north.

It wasn’t a good idea, not only because she’d been drinking. It was because he felt it again—that fuse that always simmered beneath the surface between them, waiting for a spark.

It was a dangerous feeling. Dean didn’t know if he had the power to resist it.

He sat down anyway. Jamie turned to face him, one elbow balanced on top of the seat cushion, her hand propping up her head. The motion put the soft, full curve of her breast into full view.

Dean clenched his jaw and clasped his hands together on his lap.

“Thank you for helping out today,” she said.

“No problem. I had fun.” His mouth went dry. He swallowed. “Thank you for hiring me.”

She grinned, her eyes drifting closed for a second, and Dean jumped at the chance to take her in. The rounded apples of her cheeks. Her neck and collarbones and the flat of her stomach. Her legs, curled up and pressed together beneath her.

He wondered if she still tasted the same.

“I didn’t hire you, silly. I bribed you with food and beer, which I hope you enjoyed.”

He didn’t answer, too distracted when she turned to the side and toed off her heels, then got back into the same position. She’d moved closer to him while she did it, or maybe he’d been the one to move, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he could feel the heat radiating off her, her body so close, all that gorgeous hair tumbling down over her shoulders.

He had to tighten his clasped fingers to the point of pain to stop himself from touching her. God, when had he started wanting her this badly?

His voice came out gritty when he said, “I had a good time anyway.”

“I’m glad.” Her eyes fell on his collar. “You look good in a suit.”

Dean’s pulse ratcheted up to full throttle. She brought a hand up to trace the edge of his neckline. Soft fingers stroked his neck.

He hissed in a breath. “Jamie.”

It came out sounding like he was trying to stop her, like he realized what was about to happen and the mistake they were about to make all over again. A war raged between his head and his body, between the right thing to do and what he wanted, but Dean’s ability to reason was hanging by a thread, and he couldn’t make himself sure this was a mistake anymore.

She shook her head. “Don’t talk.” Pulling him to her, she whispered, “Just don’t talk.”

Then she was kissing him, her mouth open and hot and hungry. She nudged his hands apart and crawled onto his lap, the warm weight of her legs on either side of him. Dean lost the battle he’d been fighting, giving in to everything he’d been wanting.

Wanting until he was taking.

He grabbed her by the hips and settled her more firmly over his lap. She groaned, and the sound went straight down his spine. Dean thrust against her, one quick lift that had him hard in seconds. His breathing grew heavy, breaths panted out through his nose until he was lightheaded, but he’d be damned if he stopped kissing her even for a second. He could live without air if it meant he could slide his tongue along hers, teasing dips into her mouth that had her grinding down on him like she couldn’t get enough.

He sure as hell knew he couldn’t.

She came up for air first, pulling back and working his shirt buttons with shaky hands. Two of them open and she fisted his collar, ripping it to one side to graze her teeth along his neck.

“Christ, Jamie.”

She nipped and sucked the spot where his neck met his shoulder—Jesus, he couldn’t believe she remembered he liked that. Dean bucked up on instinct, head rolling to the side to allow for more. Every time she bit down it sent ripples of pleasure from his throat to his d**k.

Time to show her he still knew how to push her buttons too.

He yanked her hands from his chest and wrenched them behind her. She didn’t fight him, just whined and rocked a little harder over him.

Oh yes. There it was.

Her wrists were small enough to fit in one hand, so he skirted his other one up her back and drove his fingers into her hair, fisting tight. She gasped when he pulled her head back. Dean hummed, loving the intensity of her reaction.

“That’s right,” he murmured. “I remember what this does to you.”

He tugged harder, and she moaned. “Dean…please.”

“Please what?”

He’d make her say what she wanted. After all these years, she’d better damn well say it out loud.

“Please touch me.”

He let go of her hair and her chin drooped forward, her eyes heavy-lidded with lust. Dean released her arms and pressed his thumb beneath her jaw, drawing her gaze up, forcing her to look at him.

“You sure?”