Naked Games

by Anne Rainey

  He chuckled. “I have a pretty redhead naked in my bed. Do you think my brain isn’t total mush right now?”

  A wicked gleam lit her eyes. “Maybe I should try and make you forget about work.”

  That easily, Dean had an image of her mouth wrapped tight around his cock, and it nearly blocked out all rational thought. “I really want to take you up on that right now, really, but it’s going to have to wait until later. There will be a later, right? I want to see you.”

  She nodded. “I was hoping you’d say that. Want to call my cell when you’re finished? We can plan a time to meet.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Dean leaned down and kissed her once more. He let his tongue drift out and tease her lower lip and they both groaned. “I’m going to be late,” he muttered. “I should give a damn about that, but I don’t.”

  She pushed at his chest and smiled. “Go, you can’t keep your employees waiting.”

  Guilt washed over him, knowing he wasn’t going to his office to work but to meet Jonas instead, and they’d be discussing her.

  Dean got off the bed and started getting out clothes. “Tonight, you and I are going to do something a little different,” he said, as he tossed a pair of jeans onto the bed. “Are you up for it?”

  She sat up and pulled her legs into her body and wrapped her arms around them, hindering his view of her lovely tits. “That depends on what it is,” she replied, tilting her head to the side. “I draw the line at standing on my head, running down Main Street naked, and orgies.” She shrugged. “Other than that, I’m good.”

  He reached over and tweaked her nose. “Nothing quite that crazy, but do you remember when we talked about handcuffs, spankings, and role-playing?”

  All signs of teasing vanished, and her green eyes were once again filled with desire. “Uh, I couldn’t very well forget a discussion like that, Dean.”

  He grabbed a gray T-shirt from the bottom drawer of his dresser and slipped it over his head. “Well, that’s sort of what I have in mind.”

  He yanked his jeans up his legs and turned toward her. She was watching him. He took his time zipping and buttoning his fly. When Catherine licked her lips, Dean had to bite back a smile. “Catherine?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Did you hear me?”

  “What?”

  “Role-playing, spankings,” he reiterated.

  “Oh, uh, yeah. I’m not sure about that, Dean.”

  “That’s what you thought about the dildo, but it turned out okay, right?”

  She rested her chin on her knees and said, “It turned out better than okay. Still, I’m just not sure I want to be as adventurous as what you’re implying.”

  “I understand. You do have to be able to leave your inhibitions at the door. And you would need to trust me, completely.” He paused, then added, “How about if you think about it?”

  She frowned and pulled the covers over her. “I suppose I could do that.”

  Dean sat down on the bed next to her. “Think on it today while you’re out with Gracie. For me.”

  She smiled. “Only for you.”

  Dean’s possessive side loved those three little words. He reached out and toyed with her hair. “There’s something I want you to read.”

  He got off the bed and crossed the room, then grabbed a book from a shelf along the far wall. He took it back to her and handed it over. “Here, read this. Chapters twenty-eight through thirty-two, to be specific. I think you’ll find them . . . informative.”

  “The Adventures of Mira,” she said, reading the title aloud. “What is it about?”

  “A man and woman who like to play sexual games. The master and slave type.”

  Her face flamed, and she dropped the book onto the bed as if it were a snake. “Oh,” she mumbled. “That’s . . . nice.”

  Dean reached out and cupped her cheek. “Read the chapters, Catherine. If you hate it, then we’ll forget I ever brought it up.”

  She bit her lip and looked down at her lap. “Will you be disappointed if I don’t like it?” She peeked up at him. “I mean, I’m not sure I could play those types of games.”

  Dean winked. “Sweetheart, there are about a million other sexual things I can think of where you’re concerned. I have a very vivid imagination. If you don’t feel comfortable with this one, then we’ll scrap the idea and go to idea number one hundred and ten. My pleasure comes from your pleasure. It’s as simple as that.”

  She laughed, but Dean could tell she was worried. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m positive,” he said, hoping to alleviate her concerns. “Just read the chapters and we’ll talk. No pressure, no expectations. Got it?”

  She nodded.

  Dean wrapped an arm around her middle and drew her close, then covered her mouth with his. He forced her lips apart and swept inside, needing a bigger taste of her on his tongue before he left her to meet with Jonas. Their tongues teased and Dean’s dick went hard all over again. With the last shred of willpower he had left, Dean released her. “God Almighty, your mouth would tempt a saint.”

  “Right back at ya,” she whispered.

  He stood up and pointed to the bed. “Stay as long as you want. Use the shower, raid the fridge, whatever.”

  “And read the book,” she helpfully supplied.

  He wagged his eyebrows. “Definitely read the book,” he said, then he left, lest he be tempted to skip the meeting and spend the day in bed with the seductive woman. It wasn’t until he was in his truck and down the road that it dawned on him what he’d done. He’d left a woman in his house alone. He hadn’t done that since he’d been living with Linda.

  “Damned if she hasn’t sneaked right under my radar,” he said to himself, a stupid grin on his face. But when he thought about where he was headed and why, the grin swiftly vanished. He’d pried into her life like a dog with a bone. What the hell had he been thinking? If a woman had done that to him, he’d be livid. If he screwed up with Catherine, Dean knew he’d be doomed to a life alone, because no way in hell could any woman ever hold a candle to her.

  24

  When Dean arrived at his office, Jonas was already there, pacing back and forth. “How’d you get in here?” Dean asked, frowning down at the doorknob. “I thought I locked up yesterday.”

  “You did.” Jonas shrugged, completely unrepentant. “It’s not my fault you need better locks.”

  “You picked my lock?” Dean shook his head as he moved around the desk to sit down. “Why am I even surprised by that?”

  “Beats me,” he said as he took the chair across from him. “The file is there”—he pointed to a manila folder—“and it’s not pretty.”

  Dean looked down at the innocent-looking file, a feeling of dread filling him. He should throw it in the trash and forget about the whole damn thing. He trusted Catherine. He knew he’d always trusted her. It’d been Linda’s betrayal that had clouded his judgment, but he was seeing things clear now. Catherine wasn’t Linda. She wasn’t anything like the other women who’d hurt him either. Dean had been a damn fool to even think of comparing her to anyone else.

  “Well?” Jonas said, obviously annoyed. “Are you going to open it or stare at it all day?”

  Dean picked up the folder, but for the first time in his life he wasn’t sure what to do. Opening it seemed like a betrayal to Catherine. If he trusted her then he shouldn’t look in the folder. Right?

  Jonas cursed and reached across the desk. He snatched the folder right out of his hand and opened it, then said, “You’re making me nuts.” He yanked out a few papers and tossed them at him. “There, read it.”

  Dean looked at the top sheet. It was a legal court document. It took reading it twice before the full meaning hit him. “What the fuck,” he muttered.

  “My sentiments exactly,” Jonas bit out.

  Dean read it again, unwilling to believe his own eyes. “According to this, Catherine’s biological mom was raped?”

  “Gracie and Catherine’s biologica
l mother, you mean. Don’t forget that.”

  “Jesus H.” Dean pushed his fingers through his hair. His hand shook as he stared at the text. “How did you find this?”

  “It took some doing, but I managed.” Jonas curled his lip in distaste. “I felt like I needed a shower after I read what that bastard did to Gracie and Catherine’s mom.”

  Dean went still when he read the date the incident was reported to the police. “This occurred the same year Catherine was born.” He looked across the desk at Jonas. “Don’t fucking tell me that means Catherine was conceived as a result of—”

  Jonas held up a hand. “Don’t even say it. It makes me sick to think what that asshole did.” Jonas shook his head. “I don’t think I have to tell you that Catherine and Gracie would both be devastated if they found out about this. They don’t need to know what their mother endured.”

  In complete agreement, Dean nodded. As he stared down at the information Jonas had uncovered, another bit of data popped out at him. “According to this, they didn’t convict the guy.” He cursed. “Not enough evidence.”

  The grin that came across Jonas’s face sent a chill down Dean’s spine. “They didn’t convict on the rape charge, but he ended up busted later on down the line for killing a store clerk during a robbery.”

  Dean nodded, glad that the animal was off the streets. “So he’s in prison, good.”

  “Well, not exactly.”

  Dean quirked a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “He’s dead. The loser ended up falling on a knife while showering. Imagine that?” Jonas crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in the chair. “Good riddance, if you ask me.

  “I agree.” Dean imagined how devastated Catherine would be if she ever found out. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this information?”

  “Destroy it?” Jonas said, offering up the most sane answer. “It’s what I’d do. Don’t let that piece of shit cause any more pain, Dean.”

  Dean knew Jonas was right, but it felt wrong to know who Catherine’s biological father was and not tell her. Of course he didn’t know for sure, but considering the date the rape was reported and the date Catherine was born, any moron could do the math. It made more sense now why the woman had given Catherine up. A woman would have a difficult time raising a child knowing how that child had been conceived. His gut clenched in pain for Catherine.

  “Why the hell did I ask you to go digging?” He threw the paper down. “Fuck!”

  “Because you’re a paranoid dick?” Jonas said obligingly.

  “Thanks,” Dean growled. “I feel so much better now.”

  “Look, it’s up to you what you do with that paper, because by all appearances Catherine belongs to you, but if she were mine I’d want to protect her.”

  “Great idea, but there’s one problem. What if she goes looking for her biological father on her own and finds this herself? It could be even worse for her. Wouldn’t it be better if I told her?”

  Jonas stood and leaned across the desk. “Damn it, she’s happy now that she’s found Gracie. Ever since Catherine found those letters, they’ve both made peace with the woman that brought them into this world,” he said, his voice rising along with his temper. “Leave it the hell alone, Dean, or you’ll end up hurting them both.”

  Dean’s anger boiled over and he shot out of his chair. It fell backward and hit the floor. “Don’t you think I know that?” He scrubbed a hand over his face and started pacing. “The last thing I want is to hurt either of them, but now that I know all this it feels wrong not to tell Catherine.” He stopped and turned to Jonas. “That’s exactly the sort of shit her adoptive parents did to her, Jonas, and look where that ended up. Gracie and Catherine missed out on so much, and all because of secrets. The secrets need to stop.”

  “Fine, do what you think is right,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “But you’d better tell Wade first. He’s going to be livid if this news reaches Gracie before he gets a chance to break it to her gently.”

  Dean nodded. “I’ll talk to him. We’ll decide what to do together.” He looked up and their gazes locked. “I’m sorry for pulling you into all this. Sorry as hell.”

  Jonas cursed. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Me too,” he muttered as Jonas left.

  Dean picked the paper up and folded in, then stuck it in his coat pocket. It seemed to burn a hole clear through to his skin. He took off the heavy Carhartt and tossed it over a chair. God, how was he going to tell her? The idea of causing Catherine even an ounce of pain nearly had him doubling over. But damn it, enough people had screwed with her life as it was, and he wasn’t about to do that to her too. She had a right to know the truth, all of it. He only prayed it was the right decision and wouldn’t end up blowing up in his face.

  That’s when it hit him. He loved Catherine. He wasn’t entirely sure how the hell it had happened, and it didn’t really matter. She was smart and quirky and kind, and the sexiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Dean knew deep down that she was too good for him, but he was just selfish enough not to care. He aimed to keep her.

  On impulse, he grabbed his cell phone and sent Catherine a quick text.

  DID YOU READ THE CHAPTERS?

  When only a few seconds went by before he heard a small tinkling sound to indicate he had a message, Dean’s heart sped up. As he read the text on the screen, he grinned.

  YES. I’M WILLING.

  The three words were enough to have his dick harder than a damn railroad spike. Still, he wanted her to be 100 percent. Role-playing the way he wanted to wasn’t for the innocent, and in a lot of ways Catherine was very innocent. Would she truly be able to call him master?

  ARE YOU SURE? he sent back.

  A minute, then two. Three minutes went by, and Dean had to pick his chair up off the floor and sit down. He suspected that maybe she was going to back out. His phone sounded again, and Dean about came in his jeans at her neatly typed reply.

  YES . . . MASTER.

  DAMN, I MISS YOU! he sent back, wishing he were with her, where he could show her just how much with his lips and tongue. He wanted to tell her he loved her. He wanted her to know before she left and went back home. And God, he desperately wanted to hear the words back.

  LOL, DITTO. She texted back.

  He grinned and sent a text back. MEET ME AT MY HOUSE. SEVEN?

  THAT WORKS.

  SEE YOU THEN, SWEETS.

  K, DON’T WORK TOO HARD.

  Dean tossed his phone onto his desk when he read her final text. He looked over at his coat. Maybe Jonas was right, maybe some things should stay buried. What purpose would it serve for Catherine to know that her mom had been raped and that her biological father was the scum of the earth? None.

  Still, he picked up his cell and hit his brother’s number. Wade would want to know, even if they both decided to bury the information. Together they would decide what to do.

  “Are you having fun?” Catherine said from the chair beside Gracie. They’d already gotten their eyebrows waxed and their fingers painted. Now they sat beside each other as a salon tech did their toes. Catherine had decided on a mauve shade of polish, while Gracie went for fire engine red.

  “Definitely!” Gracie said. “I love learning all the little similarities and differences between us.”

  Catherine laughed. “Me too. Like the fact we’re both ticklish.”

  “Exactly,” Gracie replied.

  Catherine noticed Gracie squirming, and the technician gave Gracie a dirty look. Catherine had an urge to apologize for making both women’s jobs that much more difficult, but her phone buzzed, distracting her. She looked down at her purse sitting in her lap, wondering if it was Dean calling. She took it out and hit the text messaging icon. The first name to pop up was Dean’s. Catherine smiled when she read the short text. He wanted to know if she’d read the chapters. Uh-huh, Catherine thought. What Dean really wanted to know, the part left unsaid, was had she
liked what she read and would she be willing to try it with him. Before she lost her nerve, Catherine sent a quick confirmation back to him, then waited.

  “Is that Dean?”

  Catherine turned her head to see her sister watching her with a gentle smile.

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought so, considering the way you were staring at the phone all gooey-eyed.” Gracie paused then asked, “What did he want?” She winced. “Sorry, that’s rude.”

  Catherine shook her head. “No, we’re sisters. It’s okay to ask those types of questions, right?” She wondered if she should talk to Gracie about Dean’s penchant toward the kinkier side of sex, but she wasn’t sure she should. Would Dean see it as a breach of trust? Then again, girl talk was girl talk, no men allowed.

  Catherine leaned close, hoping the nail techs were too busy to pay them any mind, and asked, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” Gracie replied, “you can ask me anything.”

  In a quieter voice, Catherine asked, “Does Wade ever want to do anything . . . kinky in bed?”

  Gracie laughed, but Catherine noticed she also turned beet red. “Uh, yeah. Quite often actually.” She tilted her head to the side and asked in a hushed whisper, “Why? Is Dean into kink?”

  Catherine knew by the way her entire face and neck suddenly felt like she’d stepped into a volcano that she was blushing now too. “He wants me to try role-playing.” Catherine’s phone buzzed again. She quickly grabbed it and read the message on the screen. Dean wanted to know if she was sure. Was she?

  Gracie’s brows scrunched together. “Er, I’m not certain I’m following you.”

  “He wants me to call him master,” Catherine blurted out. She heard one of the nail techs cough, but Catherine didn’t have the nerve to look and see which one.

  “Oooh, I see,” Gracie whispered back. “So, it’s like a dominant and submissive thing?”

  “Yes, that’s it exactly. Has Wade ever . . . ?”

  Gracie covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Let’s just say Wade and Dean have a lot in common.”

  Somehow that made Catherine feel ten times better. “I told him I’d give it a try,” she confided. “Do you think that was a mistake?”