Dean told her. “Take my coat.” He stood, leaning over to grasp the beige coat draped over the side of the couch. Chelsea stepped close to him, the sudden movement of her lithe body causing him to freeze. She briefly met his eyes as she pulled the coat across herself. Dean tried to be a gentleman and turn away, but his gaze flicked back to the movement of her fingers as she did up the buttons. He swallowed heavily, knowing that having Chelsea close would drive him to think of everything he could do to her. The burning need for her physically hurt, like a strain in his body, his very soul. But he had to ignore it. They were moving on. It was all too easy to fall into a relationship but at the end, it’s too hard to let go. He turned away, realizing that he was staring at her. Chelsea snapped her head up to look at him, hesitancy glimmering in her eyes. In the brief moment when their gaze met, Dean knew she wanted to speak, to mention that one possibility between them. Dean walked over to the mantelpiece.
