by Melinda Hale
Dean nodded, accepting her words. Chelsea stared at him, noticing the glimmer in his green eyes as he thought deeply. Her gaze fixated on his lips.
“Still,” he added pointedly. “It wasn’t decent of me, and I’m sorry.”
His voice struck her to her very core, and when he turned to look towards the street, she realized why she reacted so strongly. And Chelsea needed to tell him. Her anger had inflamed into passion. Dean was looking far too tempting to resist. He was everything she wanted, and there was still a chance.
“Dean, I…want you.”
He turned to look at her. His eyes gleamed with lust as he narrowed them hungrily and unfolded his arms. “Then let’s talk about this later.”
As Dean stood and strode purposefully towards her, her pulse increased. He stopped inches from her face, his body there, waiting for her.
Chelsea looked up at him, studying the frown lines on his face, the look of concern in his eyes. Her body warmed from knowing how deeply she wanted him, her skin tingling and awaiting his touch.
“I need to make this up to you,” he breathed.
This was just how she wanted him to.
Dean’s hands grasped the small of her back and he pulled her into his arms. Chelsea let herself be taken by him, her breath escaping forcefully in desire. His mouth met hers and she returned the kiss hungrily.
Closing off all the pain and doubt, Chelsea gave into him.
Dean lowered a hand to the curve of her backside, cupping the firm mounds as he squeezed gently, teasingly. Her body ached with need, and she gasped against his lips. Chelsea moved a hand to the back of his neck, sliding her fingers into his hair, feeling him close. His lips and the heat of his breath crashed onto her mouth again and again until she felt herself getting wet.
She wanted to break their kiss, to tell him what she felt, what she wanted all this time.
When Dean tore his lips from hers, she restrained herself. He lowered his mouth to the firm length of her neck. Dampening her skin with his tongue, his hot kisses trailed gently above her collarbone. He sucked, his hesitancy showing in his movement.
A gasp tore through her lips from the new sensation. Dean raised his head, looking into her eyes. His own were narrowed, his lust for her visible in that heated look. Chelsea tilted her head, looking into his eyes, pausing the moment.
Her lips were drawn to his again. Dean’s hand slid underneath her coat, and when he touched her skin, she felt the heat of his as he lowered, pushing past the edge of her panties. Two fingers touched the inside of her thighs, feeling the wetness of her desire for him.
Chelsea drew in a breath, closing her eyes. Dean broke their kiss and lowered his head to bury himself against her neck. The heat of his breath caressed her skin as he pressed his lips lightly against her. He slid one, then two fingers inside her damp heat. Chelsea cried out, digging her fingers against his back as she tilted her hips into him, pushing him deeper.
“You love that,” he murmured. The passion in his voice threatened to bring her over the edge.
She let out a gasp as he began moving within her. She tightened against his fingers, and he moved faster in response. Chelsea could feel the pleasure building strongly, her legs shaking from the intensity of it.
A cold gust of wind brought her to the reality of them standing on the patio, where anyone could see them. But Dean didn’t stop. And all too soon, she allowed herself to succumb to the pleasure of his fingers inside her, the heat of his skin, the feel of his touch and knowing where it would take her.
The rhythmic motion was bringing her close to coming.
Chelsea tightened against him as Dean moved his other hand underneath her coat, caressing her back. Then he reached up and his fingers slid across the firm mound of a breast. Chelsea whimpered. Her breath hitched in her throat as he began tweaking and massaging a taut nipple. The touch of his hand intimately taking her breast while his fingers expertly claimed her - it was too much.
All of the built up tension, the sexual desire, had come to this. Chelsea wanted to cry out to Dean, to tell him how good he was making her feel. But everything in her mind was swept away and she was lost in the shattering pleasure that coursed through her body in waves of passion.
She slumped against him, breathing hard as she regained her senses.
It was cold.
Chelsea shivered and pulled her head from his chest to look up into his eyes. Dean smiled with satisfaction, and then lightly kissed her lips without saying a word. He slid his hands away from her and grasped one of her own. Knowing what awaited her, Chelsea allowed him to guide her into the house and upstairs, feeling lightheaded from her orgasm.
In their haste to get to the bedroom, Chelsea almost tripped on a step, giggling to herself. Dean laughed briefly, stopping halfway up the stairs and pulling her into his arms. She stood one step below him, her head pressing against his chest.
Her laughter subsided as she listened to the sound of his heartbeat. It entranced her, and she felt his hand cup her chin. Chelsea raised her head to meet his gaze.
“I care for you,” he said softly. She stared into the brilliant green of his eyes, knowing that his admission made him vulnerable. Millionaire Dean was opening up to a woman. To me. Before she could respond, his lips met hers, tasting her fleetingly.
She felt dazed from his kiss and when he pulled away, he stepped up and into the hall. Chelsea followed him, thinking only of what awaited in his bed. Dean.
When they made it to his bedroom, she fell back against the bed sheets and peeled off her coat. Dean watched her hungrily, kneeling before her on the bed as she stripped the white blouse from her body, bearing more of herself to him in her pink bra. Dean’s hands slid down her thighs and she bit her lip, loving the feel of his touch.
He removed her pants and then his own, revealing luxurious silk briefs. The prominent bulge of his shaft stood enticingly before her. Driven by need, she had to touch it. No more holding back. Chelsea glanced at him for approval; he gave her a smile of encouragement.
She delicately reached out to him. Her hand traced the outline of the bulge in his briefs, and she raised her head to observe the reaction on his face.
“I need you, Chelsea,” Dean demanded. He tugged at the end of his shirt and pulled it from his body. Finally, she could see his bare chest and she stared in wonder at his broad body. His chest was sculpted, firm, and defined with outlines of muscle. Bare flesh waiting for her to explore, to taste.
Then his briefs were gone. He was naked before her.
Chelsea reached behind her and hastily unclipped her bra, letting it fall onto the bed. With both of them naked, Dean lowered himself over her, his breath caressing her face. She stared up at him, lost helplessly in his eyes, her body waiting for him.
The dim sunlight slanted through the window, touching his skin, revealing all that made him real, and human. In a rush of passion, Dean’s mouth met hers. Their kisses were slow and passionate. As his need increased, they became hard and frantic. Chelsea moaned against his lips, feeling Dean’s hard chest against her breasts. Her nipples slid against his skin, Dean’s hands touching her everywhere, exploring her body.
When he pulled away to take a breath, she exhaled in a rush, no longer fighting her racing heart or the wetness she could feel below. Giving into her desire felt better than she could ever fantasize about.
Dean’s mouth went to her neck, tasting her skin, then lowered to a breast. He sucked in a nipple, flicking his tongue against it. Chelsea groaned in pleasure, arching her back in need for him.
“Please!” she cried.
His lips moved down her body leaving damp heat, before he raised his head to look at her. Chelsea parted her thighs, feeling a brief moment of nervousness. But that faded when she noticed the intense look on his face.
“What do you want?” he breathed.
“You.”
He shook his head. “Come on, tell me how you really want it.”
She paused. “I…I
don’t know. I don’t talk dirty.”
Dean lowered over her, and suddenly his fingers were touching the lips of her wet flesh. He buried the tips of them into her, making her gasp.
“Just say you want more…”
“I want more.”
“Mean it.”
“I…want you, I want…” His fingers slid deeper, teasing her, her inner walls stretching but not enough. He slid in and out, each movement heightening her pleasure, causing her to raise her hips against him. “Oh, fuck, I want you!”
Dean leaned over to the nightstand with a devilishly wicked grin on his face. He withdrew from her, leaving Chelsea tense and desperate to feel him. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment from her outburst. Why was I so loud?
With his fingers slick from her wetness, he grabbed a condom, and sheathed himself. Then his lips claimed her.
As she returned his kiss, she felt the length of his shaft as he slid into her. The overwhelming pleasure made her gasp as her body adjusted to him. Chelsea stared up at him, taking in the lust in his eyes, the heat of his skin. Then she closed them and allowed him to take her.
Dean thrust into her hard, gentle at first, then faster as their lips met again. He slid into her repeatedly, her body stretching as he buried himself deep, his thrusts shaking the bed. Over and over until Chelsea grasped at him, clinging to his firm body as the pleasure overcame her and she let herself go. As peaceful bliss filled her body, she heard Dean’s grunt of release.
He collapsed onto her, his body pressing heavily against hers. Chelsea swallowed, her body tingling from the pleasure. She felt flushed from heat, sated from their passion. Her cheeks warmed as Dean’s eyes met hers. Wondering what to say to him, her breath caught in her throat.
Dean moved off her and cleaned himself up before lying beside her, placing his hands behind his head.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
She smiled. “I don’t know what to say. It was good.”
“Just good?”
Her smile widened. “I’ll let you think that.”
Something glaringly obvious occurred to her. She’d been too carried away to tell him.
“I’m on the pill,” Chelsea admitted. “We didn’t need a condom.”
Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise and she hastily added, “I know it sounds odd after Ryan, but it helps with my health. The hormone levels keep my knees normal.”
He moved a hand and lowered it down her thigh to caress her knee. Chelsea forced a smile, remembering the pain that once claimed her life and hindered her marriage.
“But your knees look perfectly fine.”
“They weren’t, once. It was a buildup of fluid that ended with me in crutches, unable to walk for weeks,” she explained. “Ryan tried to help, but he got frustrated it wasn’t improving.”
“Did you get surgery?”
His tone was so gentle. It was everything she’d longed to hear in Ryan’s voice. Chelsea shook her head, feeling tears in her eyes.
“No. After it was drained for three days, it went away. But I’ve been afraid of it returning. The doctors don’t know what caused it; they assured it wouldn’t come back, but…”
Dean’s lips were on hers, taking away all of her past pain and memories. When he pulled away, Chelsea stared up at him. Her stomach sank when she realized how much he cared for her, how much she felt for him.
“We shouldn’t discuss this now,” Dean told her, tenderly reaching out to her face to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.
Chelsea nodded in agreement. Her body was still hot from their sex, and she could barely form thoughts. She slid close to Dean, wrapping an arm across his firm chest. Then teasingly, she moved her hand lower. Touching the tip of his length, she found it hard and damp.
“Mmm, you want me again?”
“Of course I do.”
Dean gave her a naughty smile, his hand moving to the back of her neck. Then he pulled her towards him. Feeling more confident, Chelsea straddled him, taking him inside her once again.
Eight
For the rest of the afternoon, Chelsea lay in Dean’s arms as they recovered from their exhaustive hours of sex. Dean pleasured her in every way possible. As the feeling subsided from her body, Chelsea stared up at the ceiling, wondering what would happen now.
And what did she want to happen?
She’d given into her feelings, acted on her desires, and now she was in Dean’s bed, her face flushed from sex. Chelsea didn’t know what to make of it. It was what she wanted but now that it was over, she felt a twinge of fear. Would Dean cast her aside as he did with every other woman?
Dean breathed softly next to her, his chest hot to the touch. She heard him shift against the bed sheets as he turned to look at her.
“You want me to fuck you again?”
Chelsea spun around to glare at him, surprised by his bluntness. Noticing the grin on his face, she broke into a laugh.
“Count me out. I won’t be doing anything for a while,” she remarked breathlessly.
She moved onto her side to face him, pivoting her weight onto her elbow. The sky had fallen a dark gray outside but she could still see Dean’s face, his body. The sheet was pulled up over his waist, but his bare chest was still visible for her to admire.
The glimmer of appreciation in his eyes brought a smile to her face. Dean was looking at her as if she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. And she felt like it.
“You’re good,” he murmured.
She grinned. “You thought I’d be anything less?”
“Wasn’t referring to this. I meant you’re a good woman, Chelsea. I’ve never met anyone who could be so innocent and dirty in bed.”
The sobering sting of fear returned. Succumbing to him wasn’t something she planned on doing. No woman could’ve resisted him for as long as she did. But so much still troubled her. She expected to feel free, relaxed.
As soon as she met Dean’s gentle green eyes, Chelsea knew what was happening. Her feelings were becoming far too strong. With their passionate sex over, she didn’t want to lose what they had. It meant something more.
Could Dean see that?
Her thoughts returned to the moment Raymond told her about Jenny. Dean still had to elaborate. She wanted to know everything about him, to be as close emotionally as she had become physically.
“What’ll happen now?” Chelsea asked, her voice strained. It was a question she’d been reluctant to ask, knowing she was afraid of the answer.
“I tell you about Jenny,” Dean decided. “Everything. We’ve come this far, and I don’t want to hurt you again. Jenny was my staged wife. It lasted for less than a year before she went and told the media. I was paying her, but that didn’t seem to be good enough.”
Chelsea placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. He glanced at her warily, his brows furrowing.
“Then she started to blackmail me. Told me she was pregnant with my son. I know it wasn’t possible, the timing didn’t fit. She only wanted money from me. So I gave in, and last year I went to visit her and the kid. The boy looked nothing like me.”
A big assumption to make. “Did you take a DNA test?”
“I don’t need to. I’m convinced it’s not my child.”
Chelsea bit her lip. “But what if you’re wrong?”
“I know the truth. The woman is doing it for attention, for money. That’s all she wanted from me.”
No wonder he never pursued a relationship after that. After being hurt by someone’s actions, it tainted any further relationships. While she didn’t need to be afraid of Dean cheating like Ryan, she harbored a fear that he would get bored of her and move on. With the amount of women he supposedly slept with, he probably preferred spontaneity.
Hearing of Jenny’s desperation for money reminded her of herself. Not long ago she had been like that, believing money would solve everything.
But she couldn’t be that way now. Not with how she felt for Dean. The intensity of it made every othe
r relationship pale in comparison. She couldn’t decide if it was due to lust - this being the first time she’d slept with someone with no strings - or fascination. Dean was wealthy and famous, and sleeping with him was a thrill.
Her thoughts went to his public fling.
“Was this before or after Desiree?”
Dean idly scratched at his forehead then sat up, the movement almost sliding the sheet down to expose himself. Chelsea swallowed, trying not to get distracted.
“After Jenny, I seduced Desiree.”
She stared at him. “Why?”
“She was someone out of my league, I enjoyed the challenge,” he admitted.
Chelsea flinched from his blunt answer. Enjoyed the challenge. Was that how he saw her?
“Turns out she was in an unhappy marriage and after our first night together, she insisted on spending the rest of her life with me. I left her, but not before the media put a negative spin on it. It changed my life, made me realize everything I do has an effect. That’s how being in the public eye changes you.”
“What the media say shouldn’t matter. It’s only words.”
He smirked. “Says someone who never had that pressure. I know I need to change my image, for the sake of my family. The name Westley is looked down upon, it disgraces my parents. After they died, I tried to ignore it. And I pushed Jake away.”
“It can’t be all your fault,” Chelsea assured him. He put far too much pressure on himself, and as she studied him, she could see the strain visible on his face.
Dean glanced at her briefly, then leaned forward and kissed her softly, not willing to talk any further.
He was restless that night. With Chelsea sleeping beside him, Dean’s thoughts were troubling. She was a sexy, amazing woman, and he enjoyed her company, the sound of her voice, the peaceful look on her face as she slept. Fucking her had been incredibly satisfying.
He wanted her badly, and still did. But it couldn’t be more than that. He seduced her, just as he intended to. But Dean didn’t count on these other feelings coursing through him. The need to care for her, to touch her. To ask how she felt.
Surely he wasn’t falling for her. Love was out of the question. Chelsea would be moving out in a week, and leaving his life. Dean hadn’t felt something this intense before. But as with any other woman, it was a good fuck, nothing more. In her eyes, she seemed to know that too.