Who Do You Love - Dean Ambrose

Book 3: Chapter 3: A Sky Full Of Stars

By the time I got home I was still the wettest person ever. Like some hideous swamp creature from the depths of the lagoon and which was obvious from the footprints I left on the driveway and the literal squelch I made as I stepped into the hall.

"Dean, are you home?"

Nothing.

I peeled my sodden coat off but could probably have stripped naked my clothes were so wet too. I chose not to though, in case one of my neighbors rang the doorbell, or a window cleaner decided to stop by the house so instead squelched into the lounge leaving droplets then frowned into the silence.

"Um, husband, helloooo?"

Part of me had expected him sprawled on the couch perhaps, napping or else watching some trashy old time film, since it was his vacation too and he never did those things usually.

But nope.

Dean wasn't there and so I took my search on, wondering if maybe he was still out running and at what point I was supposed to get reasonably concerned?

Shivering mildly I squelched into the kitchen in my formerly beautiful but now ruined suede boots, where a pair of broad forearms wrapped me up from behind suddenly and made me squeak in alarm.

"Oh god. No, please Mr Burglar, take my husband, he's cuter."

Hot lips found my nape in a rough little snort as Dean ghosted half pecks down the sweep of my jawline and tried to sound hurt,

"Nice Lauren, real nice."

"Hey," I protested, "I've been kidnapped plenty so it's about time you stepped in and took the damsel role for once. I mean, you totally have the eyelashes and the bone structure for it."

Dean mumbled something undecipherable at that, then spun me towards him so we face to face together and which frankly was always my favorite place to be. At some point he had obviously changed out of his running clothes since he was wearing cargo pants and a fresh white tee instead, which strained pretty beautifully over his muscles and made my whole body start to tingle with list.

He hummed at me,

"Princess, is it me or are you wet here?"

I blushed,

"Wow, okay. Um, maybe a bit? But what do you expect when you wear shirts like that though? Because honestly that thing is kind of more like a glove and besides, you know I love when you kissed on my neckline, so me being that way is your own fault okay?"

My husband blinked in response but then grinned at me, before reaching across and lightly fingering my blouse,

"Bad new Princess, 'cos I was talkin' about your clothes here, but trust me, the rest of that is freakin' good to know. I mean like real good to know."

I blinked,

"My clothes? What do my clothes — Oh. Oh dear god."

I let out a groan and then buried my head into his shoulder to spare my blushes, which he then made even worse by chuckling huskily.