Bayside Passions (Bayside Summers Book 2)

by Melissa Foster

  And then there was the other issue she was trying to push to the side. What if when she told Rick and Drake she preferred not to work for them directly—because I want to be with Dean—they got upset because she’d been the one who had approached them about the job in the first place? She could omit the part about Dean, but they’d figure it out. She sucked at lying. Denial came much easier. But there was no denying her feelings anymore.

  She glanced at the house and her stomach clenched.

  Being outside, under the cover of night, gave her a sense of freedom and made her feel like everything was okay. She realized she’d felt freer, and like herself, more often today than ever before, and she knew it was because of her deep connection with Dean more than her surroundings. But once they went inside his house, they’d face a whole new landscape, with questions and boundaries that might no longer exist.

  Dean tightened his hold. “You feel like you’re deciding if you should bolt.”

  “I’m…” Trying to decide if I should reciprocate. “Not bolting.”

  “Damn right you’re not,” he said firmly.

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” Damn it. Why did her habits have to be so ingrained?

  He shifted his leg off her and waved his hand. “No one’s holding you hostage, doll. If Miss Rebellious wants to sabotage the best thing she’s ever had, have at it.”

  Ouch. That stung, but the element of truth buzzed like a firefly. She tried to tease it away. “My, aren’t we cocky?”

  He arched a brow, amusement playing in his eyes. “After that orgasm, I have a right to be.”

  She had to agree. Just hearing him say the word made her thighs clench. “Okay, I’ll give you that. You’re quite talented.”

  He put his leg over her again, and in one move, he was lying above her, his hips between her legs. “You haven’t seen talented yet.”

  She knew he wasn’t bluffing, and the hard press of his arousal made her want to find out. But as much as she wanted him, and wanted to reciprocate the incredible way he’d made her feel, it was more important to know that when they woke up tomorrow, nothing will have changed for the worse. Then they could make clearheaded decisions.

  His mouth came coaxingly down over hers, and like a fish to water, her body instantly responded, arching and grinding.

  He perched on his forearms, smiling down at her.

  “I really like when you do that.” She reached up and stroked his face.

  “Kiss you?”

  She shook her head. “Smile.” That earned an even wider smile. “You’re always hot, but you’re dangerously hot when you smile.”

  “I’m only dangerous to those who fuck with me.” He kissed her neck. “Or anyone who dares fuck with you.”

  “That made you even hotter.”

  “Good. Remember that when we go out on real dates, like in a few weeks, for example.”

  “In a few weeks?” Was this his way of telling her he was busy until then? She’d had such a good time today, she’d assumed they’d spend more time together. She was surprised by the disappointment swamping her.

  “What’s the matter, doll? I’m not hot enough for you to go on real dates with?”

  The spark of tease in his eyes told her that he didn’t believe that his being hot enough was even a consideration. With anyone else, that arrogance would be a turn-off, but with Dean, it was a major aphrodisiac, making it easier to push aside the disappointment of not knowing if they’d spend time together in the days between now and their date. “That depends. Will our date include one of those epic orgasms afterward?”

  He trailed kisses down her neck. “Before, during, and after that Friday night, if I have my way.”

  Oh Lord. How would she survive that? “The odds are tipping in your favor.”

  He winked.

  “Where are we going on that Friday night?”

  He tugged down her neckline and pressed a kiss to the center of her breastbone. “A benefit dinner for my grandfather’s foundation. My father is the keynote speaker.”

  She knew his grandfather had been one of the nation’s first pediatric neurosurgeons, and he’d started the Pediatric Neurology Foundation, with which his family was still very involved. But her gut fisted at the thought of attending a dinner with Dean’s family. More specifically, his father, a well-known, and arrogant, physician who ran one of the most prestigious pediatric neurosurgery practices on the East Coast. Knowing how he was constantly riding Dean to sell his share in the resort and go to medical school made her more likely to slap his father than speak to him.

  “What are you trying to do, pick a fight with your father? You know how I feel about the things he says to you, and I’m not good at holding my tongue. When he starts giving you crap about not going to medical school, I’m going to say something I shouldn’t. It’s not a good idea.”

  Dean moved lower, and the blanket fell to the ground. She didn’t need it anyway. He kept her so revved up, she didn’t have time to cool down. He pushed her hoodie above her ribs, exposing her belly to the air. His warm lips trailed across her stomach, bringing rise to goose bumps.

  “You’re my girl now, and I want you with me.”

  His girl? She’d never been one of those women who needed to be, or wanted to be, claimed by a man, but in the space of a day spent with Dean, it felt like the only thing she’d ever wanted. She reminded herself that it hadn’t only been a day. They’d been building up to this for months, but she’d been buried too deep in denial to let herself enjoy it.

  “Will Jett be there?” she asked cautiously.

  He scoffed. “He’s conveniently going to be out of the country dealing with investments.”

  “That’s another man I won’t hold my tongue around. I know he’s your brother, but he’s too weak to be in the same room as your dad. He should show up once in a while.”

  “Jett might argue that I’m the weak one. But can we not talk about my brother right now?”

  “You? Weak? Ha!”

  He circled her belly button with his tongue, sending scintillating pleasures feathering outward from her core and dragging her back to the delicious heat of the moment. She couldn’t let him go down on her. Not yet. That was a hard limit for tonight. She’d made a lot of bad decisions in her life, and though she knew Dean wasn’t one of them, she wanted to be completely clearheaded when they took the next step. She needed to see for herself that in the light of day, when her head wasn’t foggy with lust and her body wasn’t acting like a ravenous beast that fed off orgasms, they’d still be on the same page.

  Maybe just a few more belly kisses.

  “I don’t know about that dinner,” she said breathlessly. The last thing she wanted to do was cause trouble between Dean and his father, but she also wanted to be there for Dean. She went with levity while she thought it over. “There are several weeks between now and then. What if I get a better offer?”

  He lifted his face, meeting her gaze with a serious expression. “Has someone forgotten our three-example-outings deal?”

  Her heart soared. He wasn’t busy after all? Well, except with her. “No…”

  “Tomorrow, six p.m., be ready for outing number two.”

  “Is that how I should expect guys to ask me out? Because that was pretty much a demand.” And oh, how she loved his demands. But she wouldn’t like any other man taking such liberties.

  His lips curved up in a smile. “My apologies. Beautiful doll, will you go on an example outing with me tomorrow evening at six?”

  “I will,” she said sassily. “But a few more belly kisses might seal the deal.”

  “As you wish.” He lowered his open mouth to her belly, sucking and licking so adeptly she felt it between her legs.

  His tongue slid along the waist of her shorts, and her sex clenched in anticipation. Her fingers curled into fists as he continued his oral assault, snaking that talented tongue from one hip to the other, then lower, licking and sucking her inner thighs. She was so wet, so desper
ate for more, she dug her heels into the lounger. Her body screamed yes! but the organ she’d ignored for so long—her heart—told her to wait. Don’t fuck this up.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. And then she squeezed her thighs together. Dean lifted his head again, confusion riddling his handsome face. She had to say something, but her words refused to come.

  Come. Oh God, I want to come.

  No! Jesus. Get a grip. You can wait one more day!

  “I know I’m your girl now,” she managed, and saying it out loud magnified the meaning behind it, rejuvenating her resolve. “But you said this time together was an example of how I should expect guys to treat me. Is this what I should expect when I go out on first dates? Should I let them go down on me?” Even talking about other guys seemed wrong on too many levels, but it was the only reason she could come up with in her current frazzled state.

  The muscles in his jaw twitched. “Absolutely not.”

  “Then maybe…” She sat up and wrapped her arms around her trembling legs. “We should call it a night.”

  He nodded curtly, his face stoic, eyes still dark as night, clearly struggling as he pushed to his feet, picked up the blanket, and offered her his hand. He helped her to her feet, and they walked awkwardly, and silently, inside. She felt a fissure forming inside her, and at the same time, she knew she’d done the right thing. But she worried about what was going on in Dean’s head.

  “I should get the towel from the shower,” she said to break the ice, and turned to go back outside.

  He grabbed her around the waist, hauling her against him with that same stoic expression. But his eyes softened, filled with worry. So much worry it caused the fissure to tear wide open.

  “I’m sorry,” they both said at once.

  “No. It’s my fault,” she said quickly. “I want to be with you, but I’m afraid of what the morning will bring. I’m not good at this, and I’ve ruined enough friendships. I can’t ruin ours.”

  “I shouldn’t have rushed you. I know better, but I’m so fucking into you, Emery, I can barely control myself.”

  He pressed a hand to the back of her head, bringing her cheek against his chest, and held her so tight she was sure his handprint would be branded into her skull. It was a good hold, a solid hold. The hold of a man who was fighting against everything inside him.

  Join the party.

  “You can’t ruin us,” he said vehemently. “You’re not capable of it, Emery. One day you’ll understand that.”

  He drew back and gazed into her eyes. “It’s late. Go get ready for bed. I’ll grab the towel.”

  He pressed his lips to her forehead, and as she watched him disappear into the darkness, it took everything she had to force her legs to carry her into the bathroom instead of running after him. She closed the door and leaned her back against it. If she’d had any reservations before, now she knew for sure that whether she’d let him go down on her or not, everything had already changed.

  Chapter Twelve

  DEAN LINGERED OUTSIDE, giving Emery time to use the bathroom and get safely within the confines of her bedroom before he ventured inside. He could kick himself for rushing her when he knew damn well it was the wrong thing to do. He wanted to set them apart from all her other relationships—dates, he corrected himself. Emery didn’t do relationships. She dated guys a few times, slept with some—the pit of his stomach pinched with that fucking bullet—but she’d told him that she’d never had a lasting relationship. From what she’d said about her ex-boss, that had looked like it could lead to something more. She’d gone out with him a handful of times, but according to Emery, the asshole had become stalkerish. He’d wanted to see her every night, and she’d needed space. Then things had become uncomfortable at work and she’d quit.

  He paced the yard, his gut churning with the thought of her ex making her uncomfortable. Wanting to see her every night.

  Holy fuck. Dean stopped cold. He’d wanted a relationship.

  Could that have been it? Had she overreacted? Self-sabotaged?

  “Fuck.” He began pacing again. And here he was mentally making plans together for every night of the week. She didn’t need to fuck this up, because he probably already had. That would explain her hesitation to going with him to the benefit dinner. Although his father could be a pompous prick, and Emery did have a pretty thin filter.

  He had to fix this, and he knew there was only one way to do that. He’d have to give her space, no matter how much he wanted to barge into her bedroom and sweep her into his arms. That was a surefire way to lose the wild child, afraid-of-commitment Emery Andrews. Why hadn’t he seen that before? She might have been in denial about her true feelings, but he’d clearly been blinded by his.

  When enough time had passed that he was sure she was in her room, he headed inside. Her bedroom door was closed. Cash was curled up in front of it like a tiny sentry. Don’t worry, buddy. I know the boundaries.

  The bathroom smelled like her. A pink comb and brush sat on one side of the sink. A small white tube, glass jar, and pump bottle, all with MEANINGFUL BEAUTY labels, littered the other side. He picked up the glass jar and read the label. WRINKLE SMOOTHING CAPSULES. Was she kidding? She wasn’t even thirty years old yet. Jesus, girls worry too much. She had gorgeous skin, and he was sure it wasn’t because of some expensive face shit.

  He opened a drawer and began transferring his toiletries to another, clearing that one out for Emery. He put her things in the empty drawer and reached for his electric toothbrush, beside which was a child’s electric toothbrush with a character on it. He chuckled. He’d forgotten about that. She used children’s talking toothbrushes because she didn’t like how big adult toothbrush heads were. She also said she got distracted when she brushed and could never remember if she’d brushed long enough. The talking toothbrush did the remembering for her. She was quirky, all right, and that just endeared him toward her even more.

  He brushed his teeth and washed his face, and when he went to his room, he found all the things Emery had left there earlier. He set the magazines and other paraphernalia on the bedside table, stripped, and climbed between the sheets. Plagued by the scent of her on his pillow, memories of the look on her face seconds before she’d kissed him in the water, the sensual sounds she’d made when they were making out, and his name flying rough and wild from her lips when she’d come, assaulted him. He’d never forgive himself if he screwed up things between them.

  He threw an arm over his eyes, ground out a curse, and tried to ignore the painful rod between his legs.

  EMERY SLID BENEATH the sheets. Dean turned onto his side, reaching for her, bringing her soft, warm body against his. He was in that hazy gray space, not fully asleep, but not fully awake, and this was the best fucking dream he’d ever had. He could feel her soft curves beneath a thin layer of silk. He pressed his hips forward, inhaling her sweetness. She nuzzled against him, making those addicting noises he loved so much. As his mouth came down over hers, it felt so real, all he could think was, Please don’t let me wake up. Let me live in this dream forever.

  “No, big guy. I just want you to hold me.”

  Her voice was so real, but she was saying all the wrong things. This was his dream, his fantasy. What the fuck? He covered her mouth with his again, but she squirmed out of reach, toward the edge of the bed. No! Don’t go!

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have come.”

  His eyes flew open, and he realized he hadn’t been dreaming. One of the kittens scampered off the edge of the bed beside Emery, who was sitting with her back to him. The clock on the bedside table read 2:13 a.m. “Em? Sorry. I thought I was dreaming.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, her hair covering one eye. She looked nervous, and sinfully sexy in a silky spaghetti-strap top and matching shorts. “I shouldn’t have—”

  His arm circled her waist before she could finish what she was saying, and he pulled her beneath the sheet. A nervous smile crawled across her face.

  “I wanted to b
e with you,” she whispered. “But not to fool around. I mean, not yet. I need to be sure that if we—when we—if we…” Her gaze slid away, and she inhaled deeply. When she looked his way, it was with pleading eyes that made him want to shelter her from the world. “I need to know that if we spend the night together, we’ll still wake up as friends and things won’t get weird. But it was unfair of me to expect you to hold me and not want to do more.”

  “I want you, doll. I’ll take what I can get.” He locked her within the circle of his arms, bringing them nose to nose. Holy fucking hell, the boner gods were not on his side tonight. He was sporting an iron spike. “I want you here, and I can refrain from doing more.” He had no idea if he could or not, but he’d sure as hell try. Even if it meant taking a quick ice bath first. Emery Andrews finally, willingly, in his bed? Fucking heaven. Resisting her? Torture.

  “Thank you.” Her hand moved down his back to his ass, and her eyes widened. “You’re naked!” She gasped. “And you’re hard!” She wiggled her lower half away from him, but he didn’t release his hold on her. “Why do you sleep naked? How did I not know this about you?”

  He laughed. “Because it’s comfortable, and you never asked.”

  “I can’t sleep with you if you’re naked! I won’t sleep!”

  “I’ll remember that.” He sat up on the edge of the bed.

  She threw herself flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. “What are you doing now?” she practically yelled. “Now you’re really naked.”

  He chuckled as he walked leisurely across the room to his dresser to retrieve a pair of boxer briefs. “I assure you, I was really naked when you woke me up.”

  He glanced over and caught her staring. Her cheeks flamed and she shifted her eyes away. As he stepped into his briefs, he caught her looking again, and stopped with his briefs knee high. “Should I leave them off?”

  She covered her face with her hand, but her radiant smile was like a beacon lighting up the room. “No!”

  He began pulling them up.