Kristin Daniels

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 Copyright © 2008 Kristin Daniels

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 Dean hated this part.

The stopping. The leaving.

He had to get out of there before he lost control. Still breathing hard, he grabbed his pants, yanked them on and went for the door. He fell against the wall outside his private room and ran his hands over his face in an attempt to steady his heart rate and gather his thoughts. They swirled in his head, splintered off in a hundred different directions and fucked with his mind.

Damn it, she was getting to him.

He understood the agreement they had. Hell, he’d set a couple of the rules himself. So why, then, did he want to toss every fucking word of it to the curb?

The need to tell her how beautiful she was, the desire to call out her name every time he came inside her, neared the point of torture. Why the hell did he agree to silence? If he could speak it’d be so different. Their time together wouldn’t have become the sweet agony it was turning out to be.

He straightened and ran a hand through his hair. Standing in the hall would solve nothing. The urge to turn around and go back into the room, rip off the godforsaken blindfold and force her to see him, kept him rooted in place.

But no, he wouldn’t do that. Not yet, anyway. He needed a little space and time to consider the direction he wanted to go with her, and, more important, decide how to get there. One thing for certain, he wanted more, and he wanted it outside this club.