Champagne Kisses (The Kisses 4)

hing I know how to make, but I just really know how to make it."

I took another bite of the hearty stew, enjoying just sitting next to Dean. I felt like I was floating on air, my nerves frazzled and excited. It's just Dean, I told myself, but that was the problem. I had tried to ignore it, but today's kiss had hammered it home. I still loved him. He made me feel safe and warm, yet adventurous and exciting all at the same time. I peeked a glance over at him as he blew on his soup, his mouth making a perfect, kissable circle. I wondered if I made him feel the same way.

Before I knew it, I was scraping the bottom of the bowl. I looked down at it, surprised. I hadn't even realized I was hungry. It was the first time I had finished a meal all week. Dean looked over and grinned at my empty bowl.

"Looks like you liked it." Pride at his cooking rippled through his voice. I smiled. It had been fantastic. "Do you want some more? I have plenty."

"Maybe in a little bit. I can't believe I ate all of it. It was wonderful." I handed him my bowl and he grinned at my praise. He sauntered into the kitchen and I had to focus to keep from watching his perfect ass. The pajama pants did nothing to hide that it was as muscular as the rest of his body.

"Can I get you a drink?" he called from the kitchen.

"Um, sure. What do you have?" I asked, stretching my arms out above my head. The soft leather creaked as I stood up and followed him to the kitchen.

He was standing in his pantry, frowning at a bottle in his hands. He turned and held it up for me to see. "It looks like all I have is this champagne," he apologized. "I haven't been home for a while, and this is all I have." I noticed the repetition. He sounded a little nervous.

I took the bottle and looked at the label. It was definitely something left over from a wedding or even a New Year's Eve party, but it still sounded good. I handed it back and smiled. "Works for me."

With deliberate fingers, he unwrapped the foil and twisted the thin metal holding the cork. I jumped when the cork flew out into his waiting kitchen towel. He laughed gently and grinned at my surprise.

"Glasses are in that cabinet there," he said, gesturing with his head to one of the wooden doors. I opened it to find a neat row of glassware, and pulled out two slender glasses and set them on the counter next to him. He poured the bubbling golden liquid, and we each picked one up.

"What should we toast to?" Dean asked. He raised his glass, stopping just short of tapping mine.

"To old friends," I answered. He smiled at the similarity to our first toast with champagne.

"To old friends," he said softly, and we clinked our glasses and took a sip. I closed my eyes and was transported back in time, back to the night I met Dean. The champagne even tasted the same.

Dean was so close to me that I could feel his body heat radiating toward me. His head bent slightly so he leaned over me, the two of us almost pressed together in the small kitchen. My heart pounded in my chest, a light-headed happiness filling me up like a cup. Every fiber of my being prayed he would just lean forward a little bit more, just enough for our lips to touch. I rose onto my toes, straining to bridge the distance between us, to kiss him again.

He stepped back, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Rachel, we can't..." He looked at me, his eyes full of desire but pleading with me, as if they just wanted me to understand.

I set the glass down, smoothing my hair into it's normal tight bun, finding a spare hair-tie in my pocket. He was being the responsible one. He was the one making sure we didn't do something we were going to regret later. I hung my head, a blush searing through my cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I shouldn't have come." I turned and headed toward the door, biting my lip to keep the emotions bottled up. I could let them out once I was in the car, but I didn't want him to see me break. "Thank you for the lovely dinner."

I was two steps away from the door when his hand caught my wrist. He pulled gently, spinning me into his chest and wrapping his arms around me. His lips pressed into mine, full of need and want. I opened my mouth, his tongue slipping in and finding mine. He tasted better than anything I could have imagined.

Dean's body pressed into mine, his muscles hard and flexed as he held me to him, his gentle hands holding the back of my neck and pulling me into him. I moaned softly, the years of wanting him surging to the surface.

"Please don't go," he whispered as we both stopped to breathe. Our foreheads were pressed together, and we both took big, unsteady breaths. I couldn't have left if I wanted to. "Never leave again."

I kissed him again, wrapping my arm around his neck as he wrapped his arms around my waist. It was a hungry, desperate kiss, full of years of lost desire. I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything in my life. And he was right there, kissing me back, asking me to stay. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, but it was one of pure joy.

My hand went to the bottom of his shirt and pulled upward. I had wanted to touch those muscles from the moment he had opened the door. He casually raised it over his head and flung it to the floor. His blue eyes twinkled in the light of the kitchen as I ran my fingers across his flesh. He let his head fall back with a low moan. I leaned forward and kissed his hardening nipples, tasting them like candy. His skin was delicious.

Without warning, Dean scooped me up. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, drinking him in as he carried me to the bedroom. His muscles were hard and strong underneath me, and he never struggled with my weight, moving across the room as though I were light as a feather.

He set me down carefully on the tall bed, never letting the kiss between us stop. My fingers ran up and down his arms and back, desperate to touch every inch of his skin. He broke free of my kiss, pulling back and looking me over as I lay on his bed. He smiled appreciatively.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered. He blinked as though he hadn't actually intended to say it out loud. I was glad for the dark in the room as a satisfied blush flared across my cheeks.

"Even now?" I asked quietly. I knew I wasn't the girl I had been twenty years ago, and part of me was afraid he would see only the changes.

He leaned forward, his eyes dark and full of barely contained lust. "Especially now."

His hands went to the top button of my dress shirt. His lips twitched up to one side in a cocky grin as he slowly unbuttoned, moving down to the next as soon as it was free. He leaned forward, kissing the newly revealed skin, savoring it. With every kiss, the spark of desire burned brighter within me. At the rate I was going, I was going to be a raging inferno of lust by the time he got my shirt off.

With delicious slowness, he worked his way to the last button, opening the shirt and running his fingers along my skin. A low moan of pure want escaped my lips. With every touch, every look he was igniting flames along my nerves.