After we finish dinner, everyone chats around the dining table while my mother disappears into the kitchen to get dessert. Dean's arm rests casually around the back of my chair, fingertips brushing my shoulder, occasionally tracing the skin and making my heart flutter as he does. It's strange and normal all at once, easier than I expected to be with him around everyone else.

When my mother returns with plates in hand, her eyes land on the two of us and her mouth tugs into a smile. It almost looks like an 'I knew it' sort of smile, which makes absolutely zero sense. My dad is happy enough about the development, if a little unfazed about the whole thing, and Vidya keeps sending us knowing grins from across the table.

Brendan, on the other hand, seems like he still isn't entirely sure what to think. To his credit, I can tell he's trying to be okay with it. A trickle of guilt seeps into the back of my mind. I know how important their friendship is to both of them, and I really hope Dean and I aren't making a huge mistake.

Especially when you factor me into the equation—and my track record of making less than stellar decisions.

While everyone else is finishing dessert in the dining room, I slip into the kitchen to refill my glass of water. I'm still chasing all the wine I had earlier, trying to sober up. Still not going to be able to drive home, but I'm hoping to make it past nine PM, at least. And ideally, into Dean's bed.

Footsteps sound behind me, drawing closer. I shut the cupboard and turn around to find that Dean has fenced me in. His broad frame towers over me, practically eclipsing the light in the room, and his hands slide around my waist in a way that's objectively innocent, but his firm hold feels anything but. It's possessive; claiming.

"Tolerating me, huh?" A smirk plays on his lips, expression a mixture of playful and stern.

I bite my bottom lip, and his pupils dilate. The playfulness on his face fades, replaced by something more predatory. Desire throbs between my legs, which is most inconvenient given the setting, and the fact we have to go socialize with my parents. Not to mention, Brendan.

"I was trying to play the part."

He inclines his head, bringing his lips to graze my ear, and his voice drops. "You're going to pay for that later."

"How?" I ask, suddenly breathless.

Dean pulls back and his eyes slowly rake down my body, lifting back up to meet mine. His thumbs toy with the hemline of my skirt, skimming the bare skin. Warmth creeps up the column of my neck and the throb between my thighs grows more insistent.

"Haven't decided yet, but you'll be on your knees in some capacity."

I give him a little shove. "Let's get back to the dining room before we get busted doing something else."

He quickly checks our surroundings, then reaches over and smacks my ass. "Keep being smart, Lululemon. See where it gets you later."

*

Once we pull out of my parents' cul-de-sac, Dean turns down the music and places his hand on my thigh. My very upper, very inner thigh. He knows exactly what he's doing to me, too. I glance over at him to find that he appears totally unfazed, but I'm pretty sure he's as turned on as I am.

I slide closer to him in my seat, reaching across to place my hand in his lap. Dean lets out a soft 'huh' in response, and when my fingers slide higher, I find that I was right. This twenty-minute drive might be the death of us both.

"Why do you owe Brendan one hundred dollars?" I ask him, trying to keep myself from feeling him up even more than I already am. Not like he'd stop me, but I don't want him to drive us off the road, either.

Dean tenses slightly and removes his hand from my leg, like I asked the wrong question. He and rubs a hand across his jaw, pausing before he finally answers. "I lost a bet."

"What was the bet?"

There's another pause.

"That I was going to end up in a relationship within the next two years." Dean's eyes remain fixed on the road as he signals, merging onto the freeway. "It was before New Year's Eve, obviously."

"This is a relationship?"

His serious facade cracks and he steals a glance at me, a smile peeking through. "After what I just endured earlier tonight with your brother, it fucking better be."

A weight vanishes from my shoulders, because he just answered a question I was too afraid to ask.

"As long as I get to call you my boyfriend."

"Of course," he says. "Especially when you're talking to other guys. Feel free to sprinkle that word into the conversation liberally."

I try to fight a smile, and fail. It might be toxic of me, but the jealousy is more than a little flattering. Plus, I have a hunch I know who 'other guys' refers to.

"Didn't know you had a jealous side, Hollis."

Dean shrugs, but doesn't bother to deny it. "Neither did I."

*

Four orgasms later, I'm a melted, whimpering mess. If this is what 'paying for it' means, I'm going to misbehave a lot more.

My heart rattles against my ribcage as he pulls me into his arms. "I think you just ruined me."

"That's the idea," he murmurs, placing a kiss on my shoulder next to the mark he left with his mouth. I look like a vampire attacked me, and suspect it's not entirely an accident.

Shifting closer to me, he pulls me up against him. His heart pounds against my shoulder blade, and his skin is fevered. It's an unpopular opinion as a woman, but I'm not always the biggest fan of cuddling; often limbs are in the way, or someone's too bony, or things keep falling asleep. But with Dean, I never want him to release me from the cozy little spooning setup we have going on.

The only problem is, his sheets are trashed. There's a wet spot in the middle that will be impossible to sleep with, short of laying down a towel—which seems uncomfortable, not to mention likely to get bunched up.

We snuggle on the edge of the bed for a few more minutes before reluctantly getting up and throwing on some clothes. I snag Dean's dress shirt off the floor while he frowns at the tangled heap of bedding, pursing his lips as if considering.

"I'm going to change the sheets."

"That seems like a lot of work," I point out. I still do it weekly, because it grosses me out not to, but changing the bedding is one of my most hated tasks.

"Nah, I've got a second set in the closet."

He sets to work stripping the bedding, refusing my offer to help, and I wander out into the living area to grab a glass of water. While I'm standing in front of the dispenser, the keypad beeps four times and someone opens the door. A combination of dread and adrenaline shoots through my body, and I half-expect to see another woman. I don't know why; it's an irrational reaction. Pretty sure Dean has never been serious enough with anyone to exchange keys or entry codes.

Instead, I'm greeted by a lighter-haired clone of Dean, minus a few years and some of Dean's polish. He's wearing an open plaid button up shirt with a t-shirt underneath, distressed jeans, and looks a little lost.

I'm assuming this is Josh.

Our eyes lock, and we both startle. He's clearly surprised to see me in the kitchen, and I suddenly realize that all I am wearing is Dean's white dress shirt and a pair of lacy underwear. At least the shirt is long on me and safely covers my ass, but I'm still far more exposed than either of us is comfortable with.

He grimaces. "Sorry. I was looking for Dean. I'm Josh, Dean's brother."

"Uh, I'm Brooke. Dean is in the bedroom." I point with the glass, tugging the shirt down with my other hand. Technically, it covers as much as some of the dresses I own, but it's little consolation in the circumstances. "And I'm going to... get dressed. I'll send him out."

"Thanks," he calls after me.

Doing an awkward little run-walk to the bedroom, I fling open the door. Dean is holding an armful of dirty sheets and when his eyes land on me, confusion dawns on his face.

"What's wrong?" He walks over to where I'm standing, abandoning the pile of linens on the floor.

"Your brother is here?" I wave at myself frantically. "He saw me like this."

"Fuck," he mutters. "Sorry, Brooke. Josh has the code for emergencies, but he abuses it sometimes." Wrapping an arm around my waist, he squeezes me and kisses the top of my head. "I'll go deal with him. Shouldn't take long, okay?"

"Okay."

"I bought you a toothbrush," he adds, inclining his head in the direction of the bathroom. "If you want to get ready for bed."

My heart trips. "You did?"

"Had a hunch it might come in handy."

Dean winks at me and turns away, throwing on a pair of sweats before he heads out of the bedroom to go handle his brother. I begin to make my way to the bathroom, but before I do, their conversation travels through the door. It's not that I'm trying to overhear, it's that it's hard not to. Even with their voices low, Dean's apartment has an echo.

"Is that your girlfriend?" Josh asks.

Dean heaves a sigh. "Yes."

Well, he doesn't sound happy about this development at all.

"Mom is going to want to meet her."

He makes a 'nuh-uh' sound. "Not going to happen."

I stay glued to the spot in the middle of his bedroom, high from earlier evaporating into thin air. All of the good things that happened between us tonight seem to lose all meaning.

Because now, I can think about is how my entire family knows about us, and Dean doesn't even want me to meet his.

Better late than never, right? MAYBE, hopefully, I'm past this block.

Don't forget to add PLAYMAKER to your library - a new chapter was posted there today as well. Steamy single dad hockey player meets the nanny. It's a slower burn than On Tilt, but it will be just as hot once it ignites.