Dean loved that you, his girl, was a little on the fuller side — it meant that you were soft, great for grabbing, and your hips, thighs, ass, waist — hell, all of you was so gorgeous that way. There were times, though, that things got rough, like how you overheard girls at a bar commenting on your body and how they’d ’climb’ him like a tree.

Ugh.

Dean wasn’t stupid; he’d noticed that his gorgeous girl was downcast and not saying anything— you usually loved sharing a good slice of pie with him, but this time you said no. No? Bullshit, that was absolute bullshit and he knew it— his baby would never say no to sharing a good, warm apple pie.

Did he do something? Fuck, if he did something, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he said something wrong at the bar two days ago. But he knew if he asked, he would get hit with some ‘I’m fine’ bullshit that all women somehow do, and he was in no mood for that, you’d tell him the truth.

“S’ going on, huh?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, manspreading on the sofa in sweats like the sexy man he was— a sexy man that you didn’t deserve. Honestly, what’s a man gotta do to get his baby to smile? He loved your pretty, pretty smile.

“You’re not y’self, gorgeous.” Dean sighed, the word gorgeous rolling off his tongue seeming so good— he meant business, he knew that. His sexy lady wasn’t acting like herself, and while he’d want to fix that with a quick trip to the bedroom — that sounds good — not right now. He needed honesty.

Now.