Who Do You Love - Dean Ambrose

Chapter 20:Misdirection Techniques

Back when I had worked at the diner in my hometown, one of the waitresses had started dating the head chef. They had made a cute couple and individually I had liked them, but in getting together they had suddenly become the worst.

Within the space of two weeks I had caught them in flagrante not once but a dizzying total of six times. Including a make-out session in the freezer. The actual walk-in freezer.

How had they not been cold?

But the bottom line for me had been one that was simple. You didn't get romantic when you were in your place of work. It wasn't rocket science – it just wasn't professional – and I had known even then that it would never be me.

Which was why dating Dean had been kind of a revelation, in terms of affection and – more bluntly – in terms of need. I yearned for Dean every second I wasn't with him and not just his presence but his body as well. At some point I had morphed into a sexually starved animal and to be honest, I sort of loved it.

Dean definitely did.

It was why – the day my life started to crumble – the pair of us were hidden and very hard at work. Pressed against the wall backstage in the arena and screened by pallet crates, kissing like mad. Dean had his hands flattened over my hip bones and the warmth of his palms burnt in through my dress. In return I had my fingers cupped in over his cheekbones, my tongue across his lips as I pulled him in close. It was messy kissing, hot and desperate as if we might not ever be given another chance and although it had only been a minute since we'd started I was already panting and giddy as well.

"Mmmm," I moaned into his mouth with a giggle, breaking the kiss with an instinctive, broad smile. Dean pulled back to look at me suspiciously, quirking a brow up,

"What was that noise for?"

"Nothing," I grinned, my fingers sliding upwards and carding through his wild, slicked back locks, "I'm just – you know – I'm just happy."

Dean smirked a little in response at me,

"Okay good."

Then, before I had the chance to explain things – as if I really needed to – he kissed me again, with such sudden force that my head hit the brickwork, or at least, would have had it not been pillowed by his hand.

I meant every word of it. I was completely happy. In fact I was ecstatic with the way things had turned out. The past seven months of my life had been crazy, but I only had to look at where I was and who with. I got to work in my family business and make out in the corridors with the man I loved the most. Sometimes I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming or – as an alternative – just kiss Dean some more.

"This is kind of naughty," I whispered against his neck line as he finally allowed me to come up for breath, "Doesn't this feel naughty? Making out in the corridor? Where anyone could find us?"

Dean pecked my lips,

"Princess, is this you gettin' kinda kinky on me?"

I shrugged a little,

"What if it is?"

Dean grinned wickedly and dropped one of his hands down. His palm still burnt through me, but in a very different place. It made me shudder and I blew a little breath out and bit my bottom lip until it physically hurt.