by Eden Summers
With waning concentration, she tried to focus on the movie, but scenes played without her notice. His hard thigh rested strong as steel beside her leg, his muscled arm around her shoulders, his scent mocking her restraint. She closed her eyes and struggled to shut out his presence.
When the male lead character made an arrogant comment about his remarkable good looks and prowess in bed, she couldn’t help laughing. Dean had a doppelgänger.
“What’s so funny, chuckles?” He tickled her neck, shocking a cry of laughter from her lips.
She squealed and turned toward him, moving her neck away from his torturing fingers. “Nothing.”
He watched her through pained eyes and the sight stole her happiness, replacing it with a hollow ache in her belly. He continued to stare at her, his gaze penetrating and deep, while his hands moved down her shoulders, over her sides, along her hips. She bit her lip, unable to look away as his touch fell farther, moving to cup her bottom. He guided her movements, gripping her body until she straddled his lap.
She settled into him, face-to-face, the heat of her core against the hard length in his pants, and she fought to stop herself from leaning in to kiss him. He needed her, and whatever he wanted she would give. Her own desires were selfish at a time like this, so she waited, hoping he would set the pace.
There was nothing playful in his eyes. His lower lashes rested against hard shadowed skin and his lips were in a flat, lifeless line. He gripped her hips while they gazed at each other in silence.
No words were shared, but their connection spoke volumes. She could feel his grief, the churning anguish that stripped away his cocky persona and left her with someone raw and true.
His emotions sucked her in, calling her closer, deeper, until she felt her soul reaching out. With a delicate hand she stroked the loose strands of dark chocolate hair from his face. The short, silken lengths glided through her fingers while his gaze grew into something other than pain.
Her stomach muscles tensed; she tried to control her nervousness as she continued to trace the planes of his face. Once more she raked her fingers through his hair, then along his jaw, down his throat, over his collarbone.
Her mouth began to water with each teasing stroke, and all the while he sat motionless, his stare encouraging her to continue, his quiet intensity demanding more.
Was she reading his signals properly? Was he searching for intimacy?
Unsure whether she was doing the right thing, she trailed her fingers back to his face. She swallowed hard and skimmed her thumb over the heat of his lush bottom lip, gliding back across the top before moving along the seam.
The nip of his teeth sent the breath from her lungs, the lick of his tongue shooting sensations along her arms, down her belly, between her thighs. And still he didn’t move. He kept his hands on her hips, the burn of his stare marking her periphery.
Dying for a taste of him, she leaned in, her heart thundering as his eyes closed, anticipating her kiss. Rather than do what he expected, she paused millimeters from his mouth and extended her tongue, licking the join of his lips and savoring the salty taste.
His eyes shot open, his sharp intake of breath exciting her before he pulled their bodies together with a strong arm around her waist. His mouth clashed with hers, his lips strong and determined as his tongue sought entrance.
One of his hands moved up her back while their lips moved together in a heated rush. His hold came around the back of her head, keeping her in place, denying her the ability to break the kiss, not that she would ever want to, while his other hand sneaked under her top to sear the skin at her lower back.
She absorbed his heat, feeding off it, craving more, until her mind could concentrate on nothing but the feel of his tongue in her mouth, his fingers on her back.
Grasping his head firmly with both hands, she pulled at his hair, each short, sharp tug responded to with a grinding of his hips against her core. Neither said a word when he broke the connection, roughly removing their shirts, before planting his lips back on hers.
She placed her hands on his chest, embedding her fingernails, pressing deeper. His large hands moved to her calves, over her thighs, and under her skirt. When his fingers grazed against her G-string, he stopped, not going any further.
Pulling back, she looked at him. His eyes were alive with a raging fire, the heat emanating from him making her burn. She knew why he stopped. She could see the question in his expression. He was waiting for her to rescind the no sex rule.
Placing her lips back over his, she rose from his lap. “Take them off.”
Without further instruction he tugged the material down over her bottom until they sat at midthigh. He left her G-string in the half-removed position and ran a hand up her rib cage to cup a breast through the material of her bra. With the other hand he continued to explore under her skirt.
His fingers glided to the apex of her thighs, then with a featherlight touch he stroked her intimate flesh, making her whimper without thought. The sensation rippled through her body, becoming more potent. His fingers parted her sex, moving deeper to stroke up and down, up and down, making her hips undulate and demand penetration.
Both of his hands left her body, then came back to rest on her ass, holding her tight, ensuring she didn’t fall as he guided her to stand on shaky legs. She watched him scoot forward to the edge of the couch, undo his jeans and raise himself to lower them over his ass. Once they were at mid-thigh, he stood beside her then shucked his jeans and underwear completely until he was naked before her.
Leaning toward her coffee table, he picked up the remote and shut off the television with a soft click. He studied her face, the muscles of his jaw tight as his fingers played with her bra straps. “You sure you want this?”
Time to contemplate had long passed. She did want this.
With a nod, she stepped into him, her arms circling his waist, her nails running up his spine. His hands went around her back and with a flick of his fingers her bra came undone. He guided the straps down her arms, his appreciative gaze and reverent touch filling her with pride.
She still couldn’t understand how he could make her feel so beautiful without a single word.
When her bra fell to the floor he picked her up in a gush of movement, one arm under her knees while the other held her back, to lay her down on the couch.
“Shit,” he swore under his breath and backed away.
He turned to search the floor before he picked up his jeans and dug into one of his pockets. When he returned he placed a condom packet on her belly and positioned himself between her legs.
She shuddered over the possibilities. The inevitabilities. She needed this more than air.
He ran both hands up her legs, under her skirt, reaching the underwear halfway down her thighs. His fingers hooked underneath the elastic before he pulled them down, all the way off, then went back to do the same with her skirt.
His gaze ate up her naked body, pausing at the trimmed curls at her mound. There was no time to feel self-conscious as he grabbed for the condom, tore the packet open, and sheathed himself with jerky movements. The couch creaked in protest when he moved over her, his thick erection now nudging her pussy.
She waited for the deep thrust. For the one heated stroke that would plant him firmly inside her, right where she wanted him to be, but the sudden assault didn’t come. Instead he rested on his elbows, hovering over her, watching her, before moving in for a soft, sweet kiss that melted her heart.
He took the time to taste her, to let their tongues mingle, for their bodies to begin gyrating against each other, easing the weight of himself into her until they rested chest to chest.
It wasn’t until she was consumed by his delicate passion, her body aching from his intimacy, that he started to tease her entrance, his length gradually nudging farther into her core.
She convulsed as he began to thrust in torturously slow motions, filling her body to capacity before retreating. She encircled his waist with her l
egs, biting into his bottom lip as he groaned and sunk to the hilt.
“Christ, Beth.” He increased his pace.
“I want more,” she breathed, matching the severity of his thrusts with her own hip undulations.
“I won’t have anything more to give in a minute if you don’t stop moving your ass like that.”
She continued to gyrate, skimming her fingers over his back, into his hair, raising her chest to brush her nipples against his skin. As if sensing her need, he moved his attention lower, sinking his lips onto her breast to begin suckling first one, then the other. The spike of sensation was all she needed to feel the pull of her climax taking over. Fire soared through her limbs, the pleasure wrenching a sob from her lungs.
“More,” she gasped. His hips began to hit hard and she dug her nails into his nape, delighting in the slap of flesh on flesh. He groaned, sucking harder, his teeth grazing her skin, the pleasure and pain almost too much to bear.
“More.” She arched her back with the growing intensity. His arm snaked around her hips to grip her ass, and he ground his pelvis into her at the end of each thrust. The friction against her clit was exactly what she needed to send her over the edge.
Throwing her head back she screamed, her vision fading from white to black as he relentlessly pounded into her. He let out a strained curse, his motions becoming jerky as he came apart, thrusting deeper, harder, until he finally collapsed on top of her, resting his lips against her shoulder.
Beth floated in bliss, enjoying the heat of his panted breaths on her neck, the feel of this hard, sated man making her smile. They lay in quiet contentment, her fingers softly massaging up and down his back while she fought to stay awake.
“You’re tired.” His lips grazed her cheek.
“Mmm-hmm.” Maybe if she rested her eyes for a few minutes she would gain her energy.
“I should go. You need to sleep.”
“No,” she whimpered and held him tight, unwilling to let him go.
He chuckled in her ear as his cock began to soften and leave her body. “Just give me a few seconds in the bathroom, then I’ll be back.”
She reluctantly relaxed her arms, keeping her eyes closed while she tried not to fall asleep. Her clothes beckoned from the floor, her insecurity compelling her to cover up, but she was too sated to move. Instead she rolled over and turned into the back of the couch, hiding the front of her body from view, snuggling into the soft suede.
When Dean returned it startled her, making her jump to awareness. Then his arms moved under her body and began lifting her. She moaned and stretched in his hold, trying to wake herself up. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to put you in bed, then take off.”
She opened her eyes, not wanting him to leave just yet. He smiled down at her, the dark lines under his eyes showing his exhaustion.
“You’re already dressed,” she said in confusion. Why hadn’t she heard him put his clothes on?
His chest vibrated with a silent laugh as he carried her from the room. “I’ve been dressed for a while. You fell asleep two hours ago.”
Oh no. She’d wasted their last hours together.
She frowned at him. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
This morning she’d stipulated the one-day rule, but now she didn’t want him to say good-bye. Their time together had flown by, moving too fast to bring any sense of satiation.
His face brightened, his smile finally reaching his eyes as he walked sideways up the stairs so she didn’t hit her head. “I enjoyed watching you sleep.”
She didn’t want to feel embarrassed, not after what they’d shared, but she snuggled into his body anyway, now well aware of her nudity. When they reached her room, he laid her down on the quilt and helped her to maneuver underneath.
She settled into the soft mattress, lying on her side to face him with the covers pulled up to her chin. He knelt beside her and peered into her soul, his fingers tangling in the long mess of her hair.
“Oh.” She sat up, tugging the quilt to her breasts. “I’ll need to lock the front door after you leave.”
“It’s okay.” He motioned for her to lie back down again. “Do you have a spare key I can take and give back to you on Monday?”
That sounded nice. The perfect ending to the almost perfect day. Her lover had almost sexed her into a coma, watched her sleep, carried her to bed, and he also planned on locking up after himself.
“There’s a key under the rock at the end of the porch, if you don’t mind me staying in bed.”
“Not at all, I’ll head off now and let you go back to sleep.”
“Okay.” She hugged her pillow, wanting to ask him to stay but unsure the question would overstep this casual thing they had going.
She smiled at him while her eyes slowly closed. It required all her mental effort to concentrate on opening them again. When she did, he was leaning over her, bending in to kiss her on the forehead. Craving more from their good-bye, she tilted her chin higher. His lips drifted down to caress hers, once, twice, before gliding his tongue into her mouth.
Her insides warmed, adrenaline finally releasing into her system to awaken her senses. Before she could reach up to run her hands around his neck, he moved back.
“Sleep well, sweetheart.”
She watched him leave through heavy lidded eyes that started to burn. With every departing step she wondered how long it would take her suppressed guilt to rise to the forefront and announce how stupid she’d been to sleep with her boss. Not only once, but twice.
Chapter 12
Hope you slept well, beautiful. Dean
Beth sipped her coffee and read the message again, waiting for the elevator to reach the office floor. Monday had arrived too quickly, one of her only memories of Sunday consisting of staring at her cell phone screen and reading six simple words, over and over and over again.
Hope you slept well, beautiful. Dean
Those twenty-nine characters had changed her plans for Sunday completely. The day was meant to be spent reflecting, to sort out the chaos of her life and figure out what to say to Mr. Sutherland about his proposal.
Instead, she spent the entire day leering at her cell, checking constantly for messages, always carrying it in her pocket. She had never been the type to concern herself with being out of reach before. Dean had changed that. Now she was obsessed, all because of one text message.
Hope you slept well, beautiful. Dean.
The only break she had all day was a phone call with Angela. Her best friend frantically ate up the gossip about Dean and didn’t hide her mixed emotions.
“Just keep a firm hold on your heart, Beth,” Angela had pleaded. “The number of smitten women who call through reception trying to get in contact with him is ridiculous. You don’t want to be just another notch on his bedpost.”
The statement had been hard to hear after she’d already convinced herself of his sincerity. Beth wanted to explain how things between them were different, unique from all those other women, but she knew how ridiculous that sounded. She had no clue what their relationship meant or what the future would bring. So she ended up accepting the advice and changing the subject.
Now Monday had arrived and she felt apprehensive about how things would pan out. She woke at the crack of dawn, her body clock still out of whack, and left for the office over an hour early.
She convinced herself if she arrived before Dean and stuck her head firmly into work mode she would be able to get through the day on a steady roll of steam. Head down, bum up, and as she took the last sip of her coffee in the elevator she ran over the to-do list in her mind.
Unfortunately, none of the tasks revolved around Dean’s inviting lips or strong hands on intimate parts of her body.
The office doors were already open and the lights were on when she stepped out of the elevator. She hadn’t expected anyone to be there. She couldn’t hear anyone else around as she walked in, the reception area devoid of life, but when she conti
nued down the hall to her office, she caught sight of Steve, her second in charge, walking away from her.
He didn’t appear to hear her as she continued to her office so she decided to wait until they were closer before she said her morning greeting. When he took a detour, opening Dean’s office to walk inside, her curiosity piqued.
She hovered in the doorway, deciding to keep quiet for the moment while he pulled a pen from a pocket inside his jacket and began writing on the papers set out in front of him.
“Morning, Steve.”
The pen dropped to the table, his bent posture immediately snapping to attention as he cursed aloud. He glanced up, his eyes widened, and his face drained of color. “Damn, you scared the shit outta me.”
“Sorry.”
His gaze moved to the desk and he placed his hand over the words he’d written, hiding them from view. Not stealthy in the least.
“I…umm. I had to do some reports for Dean,” he offered in a rush.
On any other day she wouldn’t have doubted his explanation, but with his blatant anxiety and the way he now nodded as if convincing himself of his own statement, she knew there was more to the story.
“I have an early meeting with the marketing department to go over the changes you asked for,” he continued. “And Dean asked if I could come in to do these reports before he…ah…before he left to see his sister.”
She frowned, not at his reasoning, but because Dean hadn’t told her he was going out of town. Of course he would go to console Megan; she just thought after what they shared that he would’ve called to tell her as well. The thought of Steve knowing before her, though, made jealousy begin to eat away at her senses.
“He called me yesterday.” He closed the drawer and moved around the desk, averting his gaze as he headed toward her. “He told me he was flying to Sydney. I was putting the reports on his desk so he could pick them up before the flight.”