Marriage by Mistake

by Alyssa Kress

  He needed to stop. This was getting completely out of hand. He felt positively ablaze. But instead of stopping, he deepened the kiss, using his tongue. He slipped one hand beneath her shirt.

  "The door." It was a hoarse whisper from Kelly, only possible because Dean had relinquished her mouth for her neck.

  "Hmm?" Dean's seeking fingers found the nipple riding the softness of her breast. That wonderful nipple was taut and aroused, like himself.

  "The door," she croaked, arching backward. "It's not locked."

  Dean's busy fingers halted. The door, not locked. But — locking the door would mean he was committed, that he was going to proceed with this madness. That he wasn't going to stop.

  And he was going to stop...

  In just a minute.

  Meanwhile...he nipped her ear. She gasped. The sound, the way her body jerked in response, pushed a roll of pleasure through him. He heard an animal sound come out of his throat.

  Stop, a voice whispered, very dim, and far away. Dean ignored it. He leaned back, hitting his desk. But rather than distancing himself from Kelly, he pulled her with him, hip pressed to hip. In the moment of sway, while her shoulders were back, he pushed up her shirt.

  Her breasts were a beautiful sight, aroused, as his fingers had discovered already, the nipples large and pink. Growling, Dean lowered his mouth.

  She moaned again, louder than that kitten thing, and her fingers dug into his shoulders. Dean couldn't get enough of her. She tasted so good. He suckled hard, not the delicate dance he usually played, tantalizing, in control. This was crazy, like wildfire, ferocious.

  She shoved her pelvis against him. "The door," she said again, a soft wail.

  Dean flailed back with one hand. The intercom. It took a minute to find the button, as he refused to let his mouth leave Kelly's breast.

  "Yes, Mr. Singleton?" Mrs. Barnes' fluty tones swept into the room.

  Dean forced his lips from Kelly's nipple. "No interruptions."

  "Yes, Mr. — " Mrs. Barnes' voice cut off as Dean released his hand from the intercom. He moved that hand to Kelly's rear.

  "This is — " Kelly's words ended on a groan as Dean palmed her bottom. Head thrown back, she began circling her hips against his.

  This was crazy, insane, but Dean was beyond caring. It had been building for some time — from the moment she'd first burst through his conference room door three weeks ago, in fact, and he was through fighting it. God help him but they were going to finish this. Holding her hips close to his, he turned them both so that she was the one leaning against the desk.

  Kelly understood what he wanted, parting her legs so she could wrap them around him. Dean drew in a deep breath and took her mouth again. Tongue plundering, he leaned her all the way down, her back flat on his desk. The Robertson report scattered. A pen holder fell. As finely sharpened pencils rolled onto the floor, Dean put his hand under Kelly's skirt.

  Her panties, well, there was hardly anything to them. All he had to do was push a scrap of lace to one side and there she was. A crisp curl of hair and then a wet and warm softness.

  "Dean!" Her whole body convulsed.

  She was so wet, so hot and utterly inviting. And the way she responded — it was beyond Dean's experience. A woman needed more than what he was giving her, which was simply him taking whatever he wanted. He should slow down, behave like a gentleman, but she opened her legs and shoved against him. He gasped against her mouth. She liked this. She wanted more.

  He nipped the edge of her jaw, then sucked on her neck. Meanwhile his finger flicked gently, making her jerk. At her responsive motion, Dean couldn't let his mouth linger at her neck, though he should have. He should have prolonged the pleasure, used control. Instead he slid between her legs. Holding her scrap of panties to one side, he applied his tongue.

  She screamed. Well, not out loud. It was a between-the-teeth and in-the-throat kind of scream. As if she were doing her best to restrain herself — and failing. Dean felt an access of pleasure and pride. Despite his greed, he was driving her crazy, sending her right through the ceiling.

  She moaned and thrashed her head from side to side. Dean used his shoulder to hold up her thigh and moved his hand to one pink nipple. Lightly, he pinched.

  Her hips bucked and then her whole body jerked and shuddered. Above his shoulder, Dean could feel heat suddenly flush her body. "Enough," she whispered, and pushed his head.

  Dean looked up and felt a surge in his own engorgement. Yes, she'd come. Very nicely, too. Her hair was tousled and her face a rose blush; her breasts were the same blush color, and more erect than ever. He barely had time to enjoy this achievement, though, before she sat up and pushed him back.

  He landed in one of the visitor chairs. She leaned toward him with a lopsided smile. Dean had a split second to anticipate, his own skin flushing, before she reached for his fly.

  "Oh, yes." It came out of his mouth like an oath, low and gritty.

  Slowly, teasingly, Kelly drew down his zipper. Dean felt tight enough to burst. Kelly seemed to realize it, too. She pulled back, ratcheting up the anticipation. Then she threw one of those sleek legs over the armrest of Dean's chair. His palm went to her thigh. He could feel the capable muscles there. His own muscles leaped at this indication of female strength. Then with one hand on Dean's shoulder for balance, she threw her other leg over the opposite armrest.

  Dean drew in a long breath. She was above him now, open and ready. Oh, his fingers remembered just how ready.

  With a faint smirk, she dipped her hand into the tiny pocket of her miniskirt. Dean watched, lashes low, as she pulled forth a slim single-package condom. He almost laughed. Well, at least he didn't have to admit he had one in his front pocket, too. Not because he'd wanted anything to happen between them, but because he'd surrendered to the reality of his own weakness. A weakness he was experiencing in all its glory at that moment.

  Indeed, he was beyond self-recrimination as he watched Kelly rip the plastic outer wrap with her teeth. He felt like a powerful engine, a jet revving as it waited to rush down the runway. Dean forced himself to keep waiting, though he hissed out a breath as Kelly rolled the thin plastic down his shaft. Her fingers drove his engine so much the faster. And then she was hiking herself closer along the chair arms. It was time for take-off. Dean took hold of her hips and clenched his teeth.

  The feel of her closing over him, tight, hot, wet — He was going to start speeding down the runway. No, he didn't think he could stay still a moment longer.

  "Move!" she whispered.

  Dean closed his eyes and moved. He moved hard, he moved fast. It was too hard, too fast, but he couldn't stop himself. He was flying down the runway. Only he wanted —

  "More," she muttered.

  Dean's eyes shot open. Had she read his mind? He grabbed onto her bottom. He pushed harder. But still —

  "Deeper." Her voice was a harsh growl.

  Dean didn't know how to bring it any deeper, not in the position they were in. Clutching her close, he stood up. Kelly moaned. The sweat popped out in beads on Dean's forehead as, still holding Kelly tight, he laid her flat on the floor.

  The carpet was nice and thick, something to sink into. Kelly looked up at him with deliberate challenge and spread her knees wide. Dean arched his back and drove into her.

  Oh yes, this was better, definitely closing the connection between them. Dean drove in again and again, urgent to complete the union. Kelly's head moved from one side to the other.

  "More," she said.

  By this time Dean was pushing her across the floor in six-inch increments. His blood was on fire, every muscle in his body straining with need. Oh, it was as if she'd been made just for his own personal sin.

  "More," Kelly demanded.

  Her head bumped into the couch, the couch that was on the opposite side of the room from where they'd started. "Deeper," Kelly moaned.

  With a sharp hiss, Dean pulled out of her. She moaned again, this
time in protest. He ignored that as he took her limp body, lifted it, then bent her forward onto the seat of the leather couch. He pushed her skirt up and drew her panties to the side. She groaned low as he came into her from behind. "Oh yes," she breathed, pushing back. "Yes."

  Dean was beyond hearing. The pleasure was excruciating now. He gripped her hips, moving fast, moving hard, taking himself exactly where he wanted to go. He wasn't even thinking about her, except as that part of himself he needed.

  Needed.

  Finally, he could feel the pleasure come to its absolute crest, the exquisite pain-point of release. At the same moment she seemed to come apart in his hands.

  He rode the wave, out of control, rudder-less. Meanwhile his chest expanded to the point he thought it would burst.

  My God, Dean thought. My God, my God, my God. Never, ever had he imagined it would be like this, so — so — Murmuring wordlessly, he folded himself over her back and put his arms around to hold her close. Together, they slid to the floor.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  They decided not to go home.

  "Troy, Robby, a bevy of servants," Dean said, after the second time in his office. Panting, he handed Kelly her shirt. "We'll get a hotel room." Then he looked at her and added, "Now."

  Kelly wiggled back into her clothes. As she trotted with Dean past the dragon outside his office, she tried her best to look as if she hadn't been tumbled twice in the past half hour. Judging by the expression on Mrs. Barnes' face, Kelly wasn't too successful.

  Dean didn't seem to care. With Kelly's hand firmly clasped in his own, he led her the few city blocks from his office to the Parker House. Classy place. But no sooner were they upstairs and in their hotel room then they were attacking each other's clothes again.

  It went on like that for the rest of the afternoon. Rolling over the bed and onto the floor; panting, hot, and entwined. It was crazy. It was wonderful. Kelly couldn't get enough of him. Better yet, Dean couldn't get enough of her. Oh, it was as if a dam had broken.

  He was finally letting go.

  Yes, later in the dusk and lying in Dean's arms, Kelly smugly assumed she had managed to break through. Dean was reaching out for what he wanted and needed.

  And what he wanted and needed was her.

  Smiling, Kelly caressed his toe with her own. "Say," she said with a yawn. "Do you know what time it is?"

  "Does it matter?"

  "No." Kelly's smile widened. It didn't matter in the slightest, except that Dean Singleton didn't care what time it was. She abandoned her warm spot and lifted onto her palms to look down at him.

  The lights from downtown Boston drifted through the sheer curtains over the window and illumined one half of his face. It was a fabulous face; sharply cut features, deep intelligence, profound passion. It was the face of a man she'd come to know much, much better that afternoon. His lashes were low as he returned her gaze.

  A sensation like honey flowed through Kelly; warm, complete, and unutterably tender. "Hmm." She smiled and tapped his chin.

  All right, the feeling was love. She'd been in love with him since — well, probably since he'd first flown back to Las Vegas to apologize. She just hadn't realized it. How could she have? He kept the real him, the all-of-him, so well hidden. Now she leaned down and gave him a kiss as a laugh escaped her.

  Dean's eyebrows raised.

  "I was just thinking — " She bit the inside of her cheek. "This sure has been a revelation."

  "Indeed."

  "Uh huh." With a grin, Kelly lowered her chin onto his chest. "You are quite...inventive."

  He frowned, clearly not understanding.

  Kelly couldn't help giggling. "You know." She cocked her head toward the bed. "At this."

  "At this?" His eyebrows jumped, then came way down. "But — wasn't I inventive in Las Vegas?"

  "Unh unh." Kelly chuckled and rose onto her knees. "So I guess there are some advantages to you being, well, just plain you."

  He continued to frown, appearing to digest this.

  "That's good," Kelly assured him.

  "Hm." His gaze shifted to one side. "Well I'm glad something good has come of this."

  Kelly stopped. Hearing his tone, she did a slow blink. "Is something wrong?"

  "Is something wrong." He repeated it like a statement, then pushed himself to a sitting position. "What's wrong is that you were absolutely correct. I don't have any self-control when it comes to you."

  Kelly blinked rapidly now, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. Well yes, he didn't have self-control, but hadn't that been the point? She'd thought he'd let go — happily. For heaven's sake, hadn't they been going at it like rabbits all afternoon?

  With an oath, Dean shoved the covers aside and stood up. He had a beautiful back, broad at the shoulders, tapering to the hips. He seemed utterly unaware of his own nakedness, though, as he began to pace the room.

  "We went from a kiss to pure insanity. And now this — " He threw out an arm, encompassing the room. "I walked out of my office, just walked out, in order to spend the afternoon...here."

  Kelly remained scrunched on her knees, watching him. She'd thought there had been joy in their lovemaking. But Dean, bitterly pacing the room, did not look the least bit joyful. He looked, in fact — now that she really looked at him — utterly miserable.

  Kelly felt a terrible lowering sensation. It was as though a dark blanket were getting pulled over the brightness of her own joy. Why, none of this was what it had seemed. None of it was what he had wanted. He wasn't happy. He hadn't let go. Nor did he want her, really, at all.

  She'd completely mistaken everything.

  Dean muttered something unintelligible and paced away from her again.

  A huge knot lodged in her throat. "I'm sorry."

  He stopped. His head whipped around.

  "I'm sorry," Kelly repeated, then tried to swallow the knot. "I certainly didn't intend to make you unhappy."

  Dean stared at her.

  "If it's any consolation," Kelly chattered on, "I don't have much self-control when it comes to you, either. I mean, believe it or not, I didn't intend this to happen." She waved her own arm to encompass the room. "Either."

  Dean's eyes grew dark. "But you came to my office. You were dressed like — "

  "I know, I know." Kelly looked away and heaved a deep sigh. "But all I really wanted was to get your attention."

  There was a short silence, and then Dean barked a laugh. "Consider it gotten."

  "Yeah, well." Kelly sank to pull the bed sheet over her chest. Her heart was shriveling. He was upset he'd let go with her. He wasn't happy about this.

  She'd completely fooled herself, just blinded her eyes. Heck, she'd known he was scared. He'd actually left town in order to avoid her. That should have told her something. But no. She'd thought she could push through.

  Instead what she'd done was simply push.

  "Tell you what." Pulling the sheets with her, Kelly slipped off the bed. "It's not too late. Put on your clothes, go back to the office. You can catch up on whatever you left undone this afternoon."

  The expression on Dean's face changed rapidly. "Go back — ?"

  "A few phone calls and I'll bet you can reschedule whatever appointments you missed." Wrapping the sheet around her, Kelly hobbled over to her skirt. Her shirt, she saw, was all the way by the door.

  "Kelly — " To her surprise, Dean's tone indicated resistance to her plan. But there was relief in there, too. He wanted to go back to the office, retrace his steps, she could tell.

  Kelly bit her lower lip and bent to retrieve her shirt. Oh, how had she fooled herself that he was happy, that he felt anything for her?

  "Kelly, no." Dean began to walk toward her, utterly naked, gloriously so, and way too preoccupied to care. His tone was firm. "This is my fault. It was my choice to walk out, my choice to come here. I'm not going to compound my sins by treating you like a — like a — "

  Kelly didn't wait
to hear what word he might come up with. "I'll take a cab home. The party's kind of over, anyway, don't you think?" She ventured to glance over at him. Somehow, she smiled.

  He paused in the center of the room. His expression was conflicted. On the one hand, he clearly did want to go back to the office, to prove he wasn't completely out of control. On the other hand, he seemed to think there were certain rules that applied to this kind of situation and they did not include walking out on a recent sex partner.

  Kelly felt warmth rush back into her chest. He truly was a good man.

  Just not one who was ready to love her.

  The knot leaped back into her throat. She'd done it again. Jumped the gun, made up stories about the man's feelings. Kelly clicked open the door to the bathroom. "It'll just take me a minute to get dressed."

  "Kelly — " Dean stepped toward her and Kelly halted. The look that was suddenly on his face — For half an instant she thought he was going to say something incredible, something magical, something that might allow her to believe she hadn't made such a terrible mistake, after all. Then whatever Kelly had seen in Dean's face disappeared.

  "I'll call you the cab," he said.

  "Right." Kelly pushed open the door of the bathroom. She managed a breezy smile as she stepped through. Once the door was closed and she was alone, however, the smile vanished. She turned to rest her forehead against the closed door.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Here she was in love, and Dean wasn't even happy he'd had sex with her.

  Quietly, Kelly knocked her head against the bathroom door. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  ###

  Alone in his downtown office that Monday evening, Dean didn't get much done. It wasn't that he was tired, though he'd certainly exerted himself during the afternoon spent at the Parker House. Nor did he have trouble finding the parties he needed to reach in order to reschedule his missed appointments — Myers the attorney excluded. No, those weren't his problems.

  His problem was Kelly.

  Oh, she wasn't there physically. He couldn't blame her sensual aura, the clothes she wore, or that special light in her eyes. But she was there in front of him all the same.

  I'm sorry, she'd said, her voice hoarse, her eyes shadowed. I didn't mean to make you miserable, she'd said.