I started the water for my shower as I stripped down to my underwear, flinging my clothes into a pile on the floor. I felt an odd sense of relief--we were still on a hunt, but in this moment, I felt as if I were peeling away the layers of the day and prepping to wash them away.
I started to think about Cas and what he had said to Gloria and me. I considered myself very close to Cas--but sometimes his prophecies, or angel broadcasts, or whatever--were unnerving, and I found myself thinking about them more than I should.
Shaking my head and decidedly dismissing these overly-thunk thoughts, I felt the water temperature pouring from the faucet.
"Ouch," I muttered. Burning hot. I sucked on my finger and inspected it. It was red and still hurt as if it were still under the scalding water. "I guess I'll live," I whispered to myself.
The door swung open, and none other than Dean Winchester loomed in the doorway. At first, he looked startled to see that I was in here, but he quickly gathered his wits and looked me up and down, smirking. "Sorry. Didn't know anyone was in here."
I straightened. "Dean, what the hell? Get out!"
I wasn't that angry--this was a majorly crappy motel with no lock on the door, so it's not like he would have known. I actually had accidently walked in on Sam brushing his teeth this morning.
But seriously, didn't Dean hear the water running?
His eyes lingered on mine. He bit his bottom lip, which was curved upward.
I scoffed. "It's not attractive to leer, Dean. You act like you haven't seen anything like this before." I grabbed a bar of soap that was still wrapped up in plastic and chucked it at him, returning his smirk.
I wasn't shy about my body. I never was. It's not that I think I'm so gorgeous that I have nothing to be ashamed of--it's just that a body is a body. We're all made pretty much the same. We all know about the limbs and parts that everyone else has, so there's nothing really to hide. Dean especially knew there was nothing for me to hide--from some of the stories I've heard from Sam, Dean thinks of himself as a ladies' man, and he hooked up with tons of girls.
So what was he staring at? Sure, we had obvious chemistry and lots of fun together, but in reality, it didn't take an idiot to know that I was just another girl--and he was just another guy.
He let the soap bounce off his chest and plop on the floor, his gaze unwavering. "But, I haven't." He wet his lips, taking a few steps closer to me. "I've never seen anyone like you."
I couldn't help but broaden my smile. "C'mon, Dean, I don't have time for your courting. The girl at the bar seemed to like you, though." I wiggled my eye brows at him teasingly. "Seriously, I need to take a shower. You can confess your undying love for me then." I pressed my hand against his shoulder to turn him toward the door, chuckling lightly.
Only he didn't budge. He lowered his gaze to my mouth, then back to my eyes. Slowly, he leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. I felt his breath fill my lungs and closed my eyes, loving and hating how good it tasted inside me.
"I've never met anyone like you, Rebecca." He whispered against my mouth. He ran his fingers through my hair, sending tingles along my scalp.
I quickly weighed my options: have a happy little hook-up with Dean and move on (or possibly have future awkwardness and just plow through it), or push him away, continue with my shower, and act like nothing happened (and also have potential awkward-turtle times ahead)?
A kiss was just a kiss. I really did like him, but he was a charmer, so I'm sure I wasn't the first to feel like this. Maybe if we hooked-up, I'd finally have the need for Dean Winchester out of my system and we could both move on like nothing happened.
I was an excellent actress, and acting was an important part of the job. I could have my way with him and then pick up the pieces like everything was fine. Hell, I've been picking up pieces and putting on a good game face my whole life.
He touched my face, stroking my cheek with his fingers, giving me a look with surprising gentleness as well as heat in his eyes that made me feel as if he were asking permission to go on.
I got on my tip toes and cupped his face with my hands, sealing my mouth on his his. "And I've never kissed anyone quite like you," I murmured against his skin, my words slightly muffled. "Usually I kick guys like you in the balls." I kissed him again, more deeply this time.
He laughed and wrapped his arms around me, spreading the heat of his body along mine.
I sighed. I loved the way he felt.
Usually when I hooked up with a guy, I was mildly disgusted with them while I kissed or flirted with them. I don't know why--I mean, I liked kissing and I liked sex. I'm not knocking hook-ups down. But most of the men I fooled around with, I only did so in order to get information or to manipulate them.
This felt different. I guess it was because I didn't really want anything from Dean, and he didn't want anything from me. We just wanted the same thing--which I couldn't specifically name. It wasn't just a hook-up with a hot guy. I felt something draw me toward Dean. Don't get me wrong, I'm not the sort of person that jumps to wild conclusion about love and destiny and that crap. But we clicked. And I knew it would eat away at me if I never experimented with the sensations that I only felt around Dean.
I helped him take off his shirt, pressing myself against his skin. I've done so much more with other guys, but this felt more intimate than anything I've ever done before. Just touching him felt like it had so much meaning and gratification.
I felt him moan against my lips.
I couldn't wait to see where this experiment would take me.