by Rose Wulf
The way her tongue swirled around his mouth. The way it slid over his. The way she took control in one instant before relinquishing it in the next. The way her nearly-soundless moan echoed through him. The way her nails scraped his scalp as her fingers threaded his hair. The way her body melded against his as his arms wrapped around her. It was all addictive. All dangerously, erotically, maddeningly addictive. Worse still was the sound of her soft, breathless gasp when he released her lips and bowed his head, licking at the underside of her jaw before trailing wet kisses along her throat.
“Dean,” she gasped when he sucked on the hollow of her throat. Damn, if the desire in her voice didn’t drive him ever closer to the edge.
He growled something incoherent against her skin before licking the soft flesh beneath his lips. He couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of her tasted as sweet.
“Dean,” Arianna moaned again, a bit more deliberately this time.
Realizing she was actually trying to get his attention—which was ironic, he supposed, since she had absolutely all of his attention—Dean pulled back from her neck and dragged his gaze up to hers. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were clouded with desire, and he had to swallow to find his voice. “Yeah?”
She drew a shaky breath, not loosening her hold on him, and quietly declared, “I’m not going to say I don’t want to spend the night with you. But if there’s no chance of this—whatever this is—making it past the bedroom, then I’m going to say no anyway.”
Dean stared at her for a second, thrown off enough by her words to manage to start thinking beyond the lust in his blood. Still, it took him a second to figure out what she was saying. She was afraid all he wanted from her was sex—whether she thought he only wanted it now or maybe a few times, he didn’t know—and that wasn’t something she was willing to go along with. He had to respect her for that even though it stung, just a little, to realize she believed his exaggerated reputation. Granted, he’d never put a lot of effort into dissuading the common assumptions of his sexual exploits. So it probably wasn’t fair of him to have hoped she’d see past those rumors.
“Ari,” he began, loosening his hold on her until his hands had returned to her hips, “believe it or not, I’m not the man-whore you’ve probably been warned about.”
It was her turn to stare up at him, confusion flickering behind her eyes. She opened her mouth, made a non-syllabic sound, and closed it again on an exhale. Something about the surprise on her face actually made it worse.
Sighing in frustrated defeat, Dean released her and stepped back, turning again toward his crackling fireplace for lack of a better option. “I’m sure Georgia’s been bending your ear off about my horrible lack of morality. Jay’s probably trashed me even worse, too. But they don’t really know me, Arianna. They don’t know who I do and don’t bring home at night.”
He paused—partially to take a breath and partially to be sure he wasn’t about to let his temper ruin what was supposed to be a rational explanation—and Arianna interrupted him before he could continue. “No, Dean,” she said, her voice steady and firm, demanding his attention. “That isn’t what I meant.”
Dean turned again to face her. If that wasn’t what she’d been referring to then he was back to being confused. Well, confused and faintly moronic. “Then what did you mean?” He was sure to keep his voice as neutral, or curious, as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin whatever was building between them. In less than a week Arianna had skyrocketed up his list of important people and he’d be damned if he’d let some stupid misunderstanding tear them apart. As much as she was coming to scare him, he still wanted to push forward.
Arianna shifted, becoming visibly uncomfortable, and crossed her arms over her chest as her gaze landed on the coffee table at her side. Her voice was hushed and reluctant when she said, “I was talking about me.”
Dean blinked at her, thrown completely for a loop. “What?” He took a step forward, wanting her to look at him again, but he stopped immediately as soon as she lifted her eyes back to his.
Resignation, embarrassment, and something not unlike self-loathing were shining back at him. “Me. I’m the … whorish one.” She released another breath and moved to his couch, letting herself collapse in the corner and leaning forward until her elbows were resting on her knees. “I moved to Darien to get away from the life I was living in L.A.”
He wanted to interrupt her. Wanted to insist she couldn’t possibly be the “whorish one,” but he could tell she was having a hard enough time getting the words out. So he settled for taking a seat next to her, leaving just enough space so that he could sit at an angle and see her properly without really crowding her.
She continued without waiting for him to comment or meeting his gaze. “I was a good kid in high school,” she stated quietly. “I only dated a couple of guys, and I never let them even take my shirt off.” Here she paused, pulled in a faintly unsteady breath, and added, “Then Gianni died. I’d already started college by then, so after my family left, I threw myself into my classes. I was going to be a doctor, or the best damned nurse the world had ever seen. I lived and breathed my school work for a year, but when the first anniversary of his death rolled around, I took a night off and went to a friend’s Halloween party.”
Dean frowned, afraid of where this story was about to go, but again said nothing. He watched her unfocused eyes close tightly, as if trying to repel the memory she was sharing. And he wanted to tell her not to. That he didn’t need to hear it, because it didn’t matter. But she was already continuing, and he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt her. It didn’t necessarily matter, but it was important to her, so he still needed to hear it.
“I’d never had more than a few sips of beer before that night. It never occurred to me that the punch might be spiked. I was living in the moment for the first time in too long. One minute I was having fun, playing games with strangers and laughing like I knew how…” She trailed off, swallowed, and added, “And then I was waking up, feeling like death warmed over, mostly naked next to some guy I’d never seen before.”
All of a sudden Dean thought for certain he was going to throw up. The image in his head had him wanting to double over almost as badly as he wanted to melt the skin off of the guy who’d obviously taken advantage of her. What was worse, from her tone—not to mention her body language—it was clear she blamed herself and herself alone.
“At first I tried to put it behind me,” Arianna continued, still refusing to take her partially-opened gaze away from the table. “I tried to get back into the swing of my schoolwork and forget I’d ever done something so stupid. But I couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes I was back in that morning. Before I knew it, I’d managed to flunk out of half my classes. I was going to have to take the entire semester over again and I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So I decided it was time for a change, time to find something new and exciting, and I thought ‘New York’s too far, so L.A. it is’.”
She paused to scrub a hand down her face, slumping a bit more into herself, before continuing her story. “I already told you how I got swept up into the acting thing, but there was so much more to it. I started drinking, I even tried smoking, and at some point, I decided since I’d already thrown my virginity away it didn’t matter who I gave it up to anymore. ‘Live life to the fullest’ came to mean ‘do what you want when you want and don’t let anyone stop you’.”
Dean reached out and dropped a hand, lightly, on her shoulder. “Ari,” he whispered, wanting with an unfamiliar desperation to take away her shame and internal anger.
Her shoulders tensed for an instant before relaxing again, and the next breath she pulled in was shakier than the last. But this time she straightened a bit and turned her head to meet his gaze. “So when I say it’s me, I really mean it. I haven’t heard much of anything about your reputation. I don’t let Georgia gossip at me, and I don’t listen to most of what comes out of Jay’s mouth. I only said that because … when I
decided to come here, I decided to clean up my life. I swore off sex without at least some kind of relationship-type commitment, because as horrible as I was before, I know I don’t have to stay that person. I hate the girl I was a year ago. She was a stupid, naïve, immature orphan who thought physical companionship could make up for the loneliness that creeps in at night.” She choked on a bitter laugh, looked away, and grumbled, “The only thing I ever did right back then was insist on condoms.”
He had heard enough. He’d heard more than enough. With a grunt he wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her into his lap, using his other hand to catch her chin and tilt it up so that he could crush his lips against hers. She thought her story made her some kind of deplorable, unrespectable human being, but it didn’t. Her story was tragic. It made him wish he’d always known her, so he could possibly have been there to help her from the first day her family betrayed her. He’d have done anything to keep her from feeling so isolated and abandoned.
But he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t met her in time to save her from those harder lessons. All he could do now was hold her as tightly as she’d let him and see if he couldn’t chase away the demons that had been festering inside her.
So he kissed her fiercely and hoped she would understand his meaning.
Chapter Eleven
Arianna felt like her entire world was spinning. Her body was confused, her emotions were rampaging. She couldn’t focus on anything. Rather, she couldn’t focus on anything beyond Dean. She was pretty sure she’d just told him her dirtiest, most disgusting secrets. But if she had, then she didn’t really know what to make of his reaction. He was kissing her like he had before, only somehow more deeply, like he was trying to be more thorough. And the longer he kissed her the more she melted into him. He still hadn’t said anything about whether or not there was room for them to grow into more than they were, but he was sure as hell kissing her like she meant something.
She had just about decided she didn’t care. Just about decided his response was enough to take a chance on more. And then his phone rang, tearing through the moment and forcing them apart. Forcing air into her lungs and allowing rational thought to take root in her mind. She really wanted to take that step with him. She really wanted to trust that he would be around for a while. But she couldn’t let herself slack. She wasn’t just cleaning up her act for the sake of her reputation—she didn’t have a reputation around town at this point—she was cleaning up for her. She still needed to look herself in the mirror every day.
So there could be no excuses. No justifications. No skipping corners or blurring lines. He was either in—maybe not for forever, but at least in the kind of way that could lead there if it was meant to—or he wasn’t. It was that simple. It was that complicated. It was that … irrelevant, if the tightening of his jaw was any indication. Clearly their moment was ruined. Which meant they would both have a little time to think about whether or not they wanted to pursue whatever was developing between them.
Dean frowned, pulled the phone away from his ear enough to glance at the screen, and said, “That was over an hour ago.”
Arianna could have kicked herself for zoning so far out of the conversation that she didn’t have a clue who he was talking to or what they were talking about. She wanted to know what had been over an hour ago. What time is it, anyway?
“I’ll call around,” he continued after a moment’s pause. “Just call me back if you hear from her.” He pulled the phone from his ear a beat later, jaw still tight, and disconnected.
A sinking feeling settled in Arianna’s gut, sufficiently quelling what was left of her previously overwhelming arousal. “What’s going on?” she asked as she shifted, letting herself slide off him and to the side in order to give him room.
“Angela hasn’t gotten home yet,” he declared as he tapped another number into his phone. “And apparently she’s not answering her phone.” He didn’t offer anything else as he put the device back to his ear.
Arianna’s throat squeezed painfully around her next swallow as she studied him. How horrible would she feel if something had happened to Dean’s little sister while she’d been rambling about her ridiculous, repulsive past? How would Dean handle it if Angela wasn’t okay?
That was clearly a stupid question. His expression darkened a bit more with each brother he went through. She didn’t know in what order he’d called them. He didn’t address any by name. But it was clear none of them had heard from or seen their sister in the hour since Dean had. Then he called his parents back, and she assumed they had been the ones to call originally—because he didn’t open with the same question he’d opened with three times already.
“No one’s heard from her,” he said flatly. “Did you check with Hilary?” He paused, and Arianna wracked her brain for a second until she remembered Hilary was the name of one of Angela’s friends. His frown managed to deepen even more before he continued, “What about Vaughn?” Arianna was sure she didn’t know anyone named Vaughn. Not that she expected to know everyone his sister associated with. “Damn,” Dean cursed. Clearly that answer was also a dead end. “I’m gonna go out and look for her, then.” He disconnected, pulled in a breath, and finally slid his gaze back to her.
Arianna smiled reassuringly and, instead of assuring him she understood, pushed to her feet. “Come on,” she said, “let’s go find your sister.”
Dean stared at her as if surprised by her answer for a beat before shaking his head and standing as well. “You don’t have to come,” he said.
“And some people would probably argue you’re too upset to drive,” Arianna returned as she kept pace beside him toward the door. When he turned a raised eyebrow toward her, she grinned and added, “I won’t suggest anything so ludicrous if you don’t.”
His lips twitched, he inclined his head, and they stepped into the cool, foggy night. As they walked to the Camaro in the covered parking space, Arianna found herself fighting the urge to apologize. She wanted to say a million things. Anything that might improve his opinion of her after hearing that story. At the very least, she wanted to apologize for upsetting him. But she didn’t know how and, really, the timing was wrong. He didn’t seem to be looking at her any differently, so for the moment she was going to have to be satisfied with that. What really mattered right then was finding Angela.
****
Angela sniffled and wiped another tear off her cheek. She’d hoped the fresh ocean air and lack of company would make her feel better, or at least clear her head a little. It hadn’t done either one. She felt worse, somehow, than she had when she’d stormed away from Dean at the furniture store and she was beginning to suspect that the evening fog hadn’t just rolled in around her, because she was more confused than before. And she was hungry. She’d been out most of the day with Hilary before calling around to find a brother to accompany her to the furniture store. She’d barely had time to stop by the house to let her parents know what she had planned. It had been her intent to eat dinner when she was done buying the couch.
Only by the time she’d left the store she’d been so upset that she hadn’t given a thought to picking up anything to eat. So she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime and she really wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting on the hood of her car, staring out at the ocean and watching the fog roll in as the world went dark. It was a beautiful view, even now, but she had to admit it lost something late at night.
Stupid Dean. It was his fault she was out here, crying into the fog, instead of at home curled up with her newest book or her favorite show—which she’d most likely missed and hadn’t thought to set the DVR for, either. Dammit. Another tear rolled down her cheek and she swiped at it in frustration. Why does everyone think I’m so weak?
It wasn’t really just Dean. It was just easier to lash out at Dean, because he was often the most vocal. Really, though, her whole family was guilty. They were all so ridiculously paranoid, and their paranoia took them beyond the realm of overprotective and into the
realm of overbearing and unreasonable. To top it all off, none of them even realized it. No matter how many times she tried to point it out—tried to explain herself—they all turned right back around and did the same thing as soon as they got the chance.
Like I’m some mindless porcelain doll.
The bright, intruding beams of headlights approaching from behind her—accompanied by the crunch of gravel beneath four wheels—snapped Angela out of her angry daze. It was only then, as she turned and tried to recognize the car behind the glare of the high beams, that she really realized how alone she was in that moment. She’d managed to go and isolate herself as literally as she was feeling emotionally. If something happened to her here, when she was having an unapproved pity-party, her family would probably never let her go anywhere without an escort ever again. An escort she, of course, wouldn’t have a single say in choosing.
But that really wasn’t her highest concern as the car eased to a stop directly behind hers. Effectively blocking her in. If that wasn’t a friendly vehicle she’d be stuck between a dangerous enemy and a rocky cliff edge. Even with her power there was no way she’d survive that fall. She gulped, slid off the hood of her car, and wished fervently she hadn’t angrily tossed her phone into her trunk as soon as she’d parked. A pit formed in her stomach and she wiped suddenly-sweaty palms against her jeans. She was no fighter. There wasn’t anyone else around.
I’m so screwed. If she lived to talk about it she knew she’d never hear the end of it, either.
When the headlights switched off she was again temporarily blinded, finding herself having to blink rapidly to try and readjust to the returned darkness. Not that she really got the chance, because the driver—and passenger—side doors swung open, the gravel crunched again as two pairs of feet settled down, and her stomach sank.
“What the hell are you thinking?” Dean practically shouted the moment his head had cleared the roof of his Camaro. He swung his door shut with so much force Angela was actually surprised the car didn’t shake or spontaneously combust. Dean was stalking forward, almost visibly steaming, and Angela had to fight the urge to turn and run. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you, dammit! Have you been out here this whole time?”