Free Forever by Allyson Young Page A

on the brakes and they both rocked against the restraint of the seat belts. Dean leaned negligently against the tailgate, eyes obscured by dark glasses, arms folded over his massive chest. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
    “You want to drive away?” Sandra eased her foot off the brake as she spoke.
    Having visions of a high speed chase, the winner heavily weighted by the size and power of a vehicle driven by someone who likely practiced NASCAR techniques since childhood, Amy croaked out a negative. It was too soon to see Dean Chambray again. She wasn’t ready. The fact that she wasn’t surprised to see him flitted through her thoughts with the zip of a hummingbird’s wings. This felt different, whatever it was she sensed between them.
    “Just drop me off. You said it, Sandra. Something different.” It didn’t feel too much like an I told you so as she warred with a myriad of emotions.
    “I’m not so sure I was thinking of him , honey, when I went all psychological on you.”
    “Yah, well, I think I’ll see what Mr. Fuck ’Em and Leave ’Em wants.”
    “Amy,” Sandra warned. “He’s both the same and different than those other men, and in some ways that makes him worse.”
    Not questioning how Sandra knew that, Amy shrugged. She knew it too, but she was dangerous in her own right. Dean Chambray had no idea. “And I’m self destructive. I know. But I’m going to see what happens. I have to. I’m not afraid of him.” Just of what he makes me feel.
    Her mouth a straight line, visibly containing what was doubtless a lecture filled with sage and wonderful advice, Sandra nodded. “Call me if you aren’t coming for dinner.”
    “I will, Sandra. Love you.”
    “Love you too, girl. You take care.”
    ****
    Watching Amy uncoil her tall, curvaceous form out of the little car was, in itself, foreplay. Her long legs swung out, feet shod in glittery sandals landing side by each on the pavement. His gaze tracked up over her trim ankles and past her defined calves, lingering on the expanse of thigh exposed by the short skirt. The top of her head ducked out from beneath the doorframe, thick hair restrained by one of those clip things women used, and Dean’s fingers twitched, wanting to release it and let that mane fall free to frame her face and drift over her shoulders. She straightened up in one lithe movement, her height notable, and he studied the jut of her breasts above the narrow waist swelling into the hips he wanted to set his hands on. Fuck. His cock filled and strained against its confinement and he shifted to accommodate the reminder that it knew her far better than he did. Something he planned to remedy before introducing it to her again. Or maybe the “getting to know you” could wait until after that particular introduction.
    That hot, greedy pussy, full breasts with tight, suckable nipples , and her talented mouth were just part of the whole package, though, and while he suspected she was as fucked up as he was, the pull was undeniable.
    “You have something you want to say to me?” Seeing her saunter up to him in that confident, loose stride, her features set in an amused mask, challenged his dominance, but he tamped it down, held his stance. The friend’s car idled at the curb, then pulled slowly away, and Amy’s affect crumbled, infinitesimally, but he caught it. And exploited it.
    “You want to take this inside, sweetheart? Or give your neighbor an earful?”
    The involuntary flinch was also minute. Dean pushed up and moved into her space, forcing her to walk along with him, their strides close to matching. There was a lot about her in sync with him. She unlocked the door and they stepped inside. Amy pushed buttons on her security panel. Déjà vu. All rational thought of merely talking with her fled as he pinned her against the wall, the thud of her purse hitting the floor counterpoint to the pound ing of the blood in his cock.
    Amy wound her arms around his neck, hands clutching the back of