Naked Games (Hard to Get 3)

After Dean finished making the sweet chocolaty delight, he came back to the table and sat in the chair next to her. She took her drink and blew on it to cool it off. Catherine noticed the little marshmallows floating on the surface, and joy swept through her. The fact that he’d remembered made her feel special. She carefully plucked one out and popped it into her mouth.

Dean groaned. “I love watching you with hot chocolate. It’s sexy as hell.”

Catherine nearly choked. “No way is hot chocolate sexy, Dean.”

“I beg to differ, sweetheart,” he murmured as he reached over and picked out a chocolate-soaked marshmallow from her cup and held it to her lips. “Open up,” he gently ordered. Catherine obeyed, and he placed the sweet treat onto her tongue. She closed her lips around it and swallowed, while Dean watched on. A low rumble of sound came from deep in his throat. “Mmm-hmm, definitely sexy.” He sat back and took a drink of his own chocolate before asking, “So, did my family warn you away from me? Did they tell you I’m a troublemaker?”

She laughed. “Of course they didn’t. Their love for you came through loud and clear.” She hesitated to tell them what all they’d discussed, but in the end opted for total honesty, and prayed it was the right choice. “There were some questions.”

He quirked a brow. “An interrogation, you mean?”

“Oh, no, not at all. They’re merely curious about us.” She looked down at her mug. “So am I, to tell the truth.”

Dean’s hand covered hers. “You’re curious, huh?”

Catherine dipped a finger into the now-warm liquid and swirled. “I leave in a few days, Dean. I don’t know what’s going to happen—with us.”

She felt a finger beneath her chin, and Catherine lifted her head. Dean gave her such a scorchingly hot look that she could’ve sworn her blood caught fire. “I think it’s time for your surprise, sweetheart.”

At the reminder that he had a present for her, Catherine’s mood lifted. “You really have a surprise for me?”

He stood and held out a hand. “Come with me and you’ll see.”

“Okay,” she said as she put her hand in his and let him steer her out of the kitchen and into the bedroom.

He released her and pointed to the bed. “Have a seat while I get it.”

Catherine grinned from ear to ear as she did as he instructed. She couldn’t imagine what he might have for her. When he went to a set of doors and slid one open, her curiosity piqued. Catherine watched on as Dean picked up something large and covered in a cream-colored cloth. She couldn’t tell what lay beneath.

When Dean reached the side of the bed, his gaze on her, he said, “I hope you like it.”

Catherine caught a hint of uncertainty in his voice and she wanted to reassure him, but when he yanked off the heavy covering, she literally felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Her mouth dropped open as she took in the treasure before her.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. Catherine’s surprise was a sketch of herself, sleeping. Dean had drawn her as she lay curled up in bed, her hair all around her, the blankets draped over her with one leg uncovered. She leaned closer and realized it was her hotel room. The morning after he’d spent the night? He’d drawn her from memory? He’d even framed it in a gorgeous cherrywood frame. Tears sprang to her eyes at the thoughtfulness of his gift to her.

Dean crouched in front of her and cupped her face in his palms. “Are you crying? Ah, hell, you hate it, don’t you?”

“No, Dean,” she rushed to correct him, “not at all. It’s . . . it’s simply stunning.” She didn’t know how to put into words what his present meant to her. “It’s absolutely the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

His smile was one of pride. “I had a gorgeous model.”

She wanted to cry. “It must have taken you quite some time to complete though. There’s so much detail. The crinkled bedding, my sleep-tousled hair.” She looked at him and asked, “When did you draw this?”

“While you were at the performance with Gracie. I . . . had some free time on my hands.”

“But you framed it, even.” Catherine was still dumbfounded that he’d managed to complete something so beautiful in such a short amount of time. “How’d you get it done so quickly?”

He shrugged. “I had the wood for the frame on hand.”

In that moment, Catherine saw a vulnerable side to Dean. He’d seemed so confident and in control. Watching him now, she knew she wasn’t the only one with their emotions in overdrive. It went a long way to soothing her ravaged nerves.

After one last lingering look, Dean recovered the sketch and took it to the other side of the room. He sat it against the wall and came back to her, his strides long and purposeful. His powerful body had her fairly tingling with need.

“It’s time we talked about my trust issues,” he stated in a firm voice. As he sat on the bed next to her, Catherine noticed that their thighs were close but not touching. He needed distance for whatever he was about to tell her? A sense of dread filled her. Still, even without knowing what he was going to say, Catherine knew this discussion was way overdue.

She took a deep breath and let it out, then said, “I’m all ears.”

Dean placed his arms on his thighs and stared down at the floor, as if attempting to figure out how to begin. “Her name was Linda,” he finally said with a bitterness that spoke of real pain.