Fuck, holy shit, Dean couldn’t get you off his mind. He’d been thinking of you for weeks, even though he was your bodyguard and an ex-hitman, so he’d just shoved it down, jacked off to the thought of you to take off the edge, that’s how bad it got. And now it was at a head, cause he was madly in love with his boss, the president.

Amazing, right?

And he was going down like the Titanic, you were the star of his wet dreams, all pretty smile, gorgeous hair, your laugh. You were the epitome of beautiful — hands down — and of sex appeal, and Dean would happily break all rules of conduct for a taste of you— oh, the hell were you doing to him?

And it wasn’t like you didn’t think he wasn’t hot— he was so irresistible, with those green eyes of his, pouty lips, even better that he had a low voice that made you see stars with little to no effort, and he was definitely jacked under the suit he wore. And how he was an ex-hitman? So, he’s a bad boy.

He paced in your room — that looked hot and agitated — and whipped to you as you walked in— that was a mistake, as his eyes glued to you, and gave you a once-over. And another— damn, did he want a piece. “I want you, s’ badly, y’hear?”

His voice was hoarse, really, sexy, as his jaw clenched in a way only he could do, which made your brain go to mush. Dean bet you were confused, you would naturally be— and he just knew he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off you— oh, sweetheart. “There, I— I said it. Got it out in the open.”

Fucking great.