Living with Temptation

by Melinda Hale

  Dean craved the touch of her skin, the heat of her lips. Just having her next to him was enough to get him hard again.

  Sleeping with any woman was a hot experience, but easily shrugged aside the morning after. This wasn’t going the way he intended. Even sleeping with Jenny weeks after they knew each other, there weren’t any feelings. Not like this.

  Chelsea had gotten to him, and he couldn’t understand why.

  Dean sighed and ran a hand through his black hair. He slumped onto the bed. Telling her about his past had been hard, but her inquisitive eyes pulled at a part of him that made him feel guilty. He didn’t want to hurt her. His intention of using her for the media would stay a secret. No doubt she would hate him for it now. I hate myself for doing this. But it has to be done.

  Tomorrow he would get the two of them noticed by the media. After asking their usual, probing questions, he knew exactly what to tell them. A lie, of course. When the time came for Chelsea to move out, Dean had a parting gift for her. A substantial sum that would ease her financial troubles. There was nothing else he could offer her.

  But as Dean looked at her sleeping face, something tugged at his heart. Chelsea had come into his life, his bed. His plan of deceiving the media felt pointless.

  This isn’t love, he told himself. I’m not falling for her.

  They were two different people. Chelsea had her life in Newark. He knew she loathed the carefree lifestyle he had. He wasn’t blind to the way she looked at the house. A man with power and money wasn’t the type to offer a stable relationship - his belief that he once insisted was true. Dean intended on telling her before she came up to him on the patio, looking innocently seductive as her blue eyes burrowed into his.

  He shifted uncomfortably in an attempt to sleep, but it came slowly.

  When Dean awoke, squinting against the sunlight beaming on his face, he rolled onto his back to see Chelsea’s side of the bed was empty. Confused and slightly hurt, he sat up. Now he knew why that pissed women off.

  Chelsea entered the room naked, with a cheeky smile on her face and a tray of food in her hands.

  “I thought I’d be the one to do breakfast this time.”

  Dean smiled, feeling himself harden as he looked upon her slim body. His gaze went from her firm stomach to the full curves of her breasts. Chelsea met his gaze and blushed, knowing that he was looking at her, thinking about her. He stared for a moment longer, savoring their passionate afternoon, feeling satisfied that he explored every inch of her body. Another woman he’d fucked.

  A hard jolt went through him when he realized this wasn’t just another woman. Chelsea was more than that. Dean could feel it. He knew the moment he met her that they had something wild, an unshakeable attraction. Giving into it had been an erotic thrill. Now that it was over he expected to have no feelings for her.

  He cleared his throat. “You look beautiful.”

  Chelsea’s smile widened. She sat at the edge of the bed and placed the tray before him.

  “I already had mine,” she said. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  Dean devoured the three pieces of toast with jam and the bowl of cereal. Chelsea raised her eyebrows in surprise. He forgot to mention his ravenous appetite after sex.

  “You have so much food in your pantry,” she said with a laugh. “I wasn’t sure what to make. So I went with something simple.”

  He smiled. “Thank you.”

  There was a long silence between them. Dean observed the gentle glimmer in her eyes, her expectant expression. An unanswered question hung between them, and he knew exactly what it was. But he couldn’t give Chelsea the relationship he knew she wanted.

  “When’ll you be moving?” he asked casually. Even the thought of having her out of his life brought a sharp pain to his chest. He quickly pushed it aside.

  “On Tuesday,” she answered. “Why? You going to miss me?”

  Dean swallowed. He had asked that very question to himself. Deep down, he knew he would. “Of course. And I intend on giving you a little surprise before you leave.”

  Financial problems led Chelsea into this situation. The least he could do was provide her with enough money to rent a nice house in Newark for her future.

  A hesitant gleam filled her eyes, then she nodded. “I’ll just have to wait and see what it is. I’m not really a fan of surprises, or the unexpected.”

  “What we did was unexpected.”

  She laughed, and he realized how much he liked hearing that. “Sure was. But that was something I didn’t mind.”

  Dean grinned and leaned forward to kiss her. His lips gently touched hers and then he pulled away, searching her eyes. He knew he was making a mistake every time he tasted her lips, but he couldn’t resist, not with the sexual chemistry between them. Not with how I feel.

  “Come on, I know you enjoyed it,” he teased.

  Her smile widened. “What if I didn’t?”

  He placed a hand over his chest in mock horror. “I’d be hurt!”

  Chelsea erupted into giggles, playfully slapping his arm. Dean grinned, then reached out to hers. As he rested a hand against her arm, her laughing stopped. Her skin was soft under his, and his touch lingered longer than he wanted. She licked her lips, her eyes lowering to his.

  There it was.

  A single moment where he could truly feel something. I’m happy with her. He swallowed, and leaned back. “I promise I’ll take you to the finest restaurant at Spring Lake for a nice meal.”

  Chelsea’s smile was genuine, but he saw the pain in her eyes. He wondered if he mirrored it himself. Missing Chelsea would only be temporary, just as this was. A temporary fling, he told himself. It’ll be over after a week, and we can both move on.

  Three days had passed since that night. Every nerve on Chelsea’s body seemed to tingle whenever she thought of Dean. The sexual tension with him had burst into an explicit, undeniable attraction. Neither of them resisted it. Whenever they passed each other on the stairs, he pulled her against him and they kissed until both of them were breathless and wanting more. But she didn’t want to give into her desires.

  Dean seemed to hold back as well. But Chelsea couldn’t bring up her feelings, and he hadn’t spoken of it. She was too afraid to move forward, as if it would end how perfect everything seemed.

  Rejecting what their heated kisses promised to lead to created a distance between them. Chelsea lowered her gaze as she sat on her bed, her heart tightening in her chest when she thought of Dean waiting downstairs. If she mentioned a relationship, she didn’t know how he would react. She pivoted off the bed, feeling her hair slide against her shoulders.

  Another night of sleeping alone. Dean hadn’t mentioned sex, even when she looked at him with arousal burning her face, parting her lips. What if he rejected her? She couldn’t go through the pain of heartbreak again.

  Chelsea walked downstairs, pondering going into town and finally buying some candy. She needed a sugar rush. Or an espresso. Anything that would take her mind off Dean.

  Sharp pain speared through her knee and she lost her footing, grabbing onto the railing as she slumped onto the stairs. Landing heavily sent a jolt of pain through her body, but it was nothing compared to the horror when she realized what was happening.

  “Shit!”

  Not again.

  Chelsea rolled up her pants to reveal the bulge in her right knee. It was unmistakable. It was happening again. Her heart pounded wildly as fear took hold of her and she held back a sob.

  From the living room, she heard Dean run to the foot of the stairs, and he looked up at her, his eyes wide with concern.

  “What is it?” he demanded, clearing the three steps to reach her.

  Tears burned at her eyes. Why did my body have to do this to me now? She felt Dean’s warm hand on her bare arm and raised her head to meet his gaze.

  “It’ll go away,” she insisted, gesturing weakly towards her knee. Dean looked at it briefly befor
e helping her get to her feet. Chelsea pressed her body against him, leaning her weight on her left leg. A flush of arousal went through her, and she immediately recalled the night of passion where his naked chest touched hers, bonding the two of them in that single moment of pure pleasure.

  Dean guided her over to the couch, and even though her mind ran wild with fear, her main focus was the touch of his hand against her back. The warmth from him was heating her skin through the fabric of her shirt. When he lowered her onto the couch and pulled away, she let out a breath, yearning to feel him again.

  Dean stood in front of her, his brows creasing. “I’m taking you to the doctor.”

  Chelsea’s eyes widened. There was no way she wanted to go through that again – the tests, the pointless discussions where it had been obvious the doctors had no idea what was causing it. This was her one moment of weakness with Dean, one moment of fragility, and she didn’t want to show how scared she was.

  “No,” she said firmly. “It’s not even that bad. See? Swollen a little bit, sure, but it’ll fade.”

  “I’m not taking that chance. And I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

  Her lips formed a fine line. “This is my health, Dean. I know what’s best for me.”

  He gestured to the swollen knee. “Leaving it like that will risk long term complications. And I know, I studied to be a doctor, years ago. Don’t judge me on that.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t judge people based on what they do. Being a doctor doesn’t mean you’re instantly respected, being a soldier doesn’t mean you’re bloodthirsty. They’re all experiences. There’s too much judging and over analyzing in this world.”

  “Is that so? You judged me.”

  Chelsea quirked an eyebrow. “I was wary of you. And I was right to be after Ryan.”

  “This is a discussion for another time,” Dean decided, withdrawing his cell phone from his pocket.

  “Wait, I don’t want to bother you with this,” she insisted. “My own doctor’s in Newark. I don’t know if the clinic’s open right now…”

  He gestured for her to stop. “I have a personal doctor. He’ll see you immediately. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of it.”

  “But…”

  “Chelsea! You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”

  She exhaled in a huff, watching as Dean walked out of earshot into the kitchen. She gritted her teeth briefly, torn between her anger and helplessness. She always relied on herself to take care of things. She organized her trip with Ryan to Hawaii, and her countless visits to the doctors about her knee. Now that it was happening again, she didn’t want to inconvenience Dean.

  He’d taken charge without backing out to let her handle it. A pleasant warmth filled her chest. This is what she wanted, even though she was too stubborn to accept it. Chelsea took a deep breath, trying to relax. Her anger was directed at herself, not Dean. He was doing everything he could to help, and she appreciated it in a way that nothing she said could express.

  Dean returned, striding into the living room. Her breath caught in her throat as she ran her gaze across his firm body. How could he be so gentle yet sexy at the same time? She hastily raised her head to meet his eyes as he spoke.

  “Doctor Reese will be over in a few minutes.”

  “We aren’t going to a clinic?”

  “No need to. He’s pretty certain it’s a build up of fluid in the knee, he can inject it to ease the inflammation.”

  Chelsea nodded, a brief moment of fear fluttering in her chest. It was bad enough having her knee flare up again, but even worse for it to happen in front of Dean.

  “So you’re a medical expert, huh?” she teased, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

  Dean chuckled. “I’ll let you think I am.”

  She smiled and straightened her knee as much as she could against the cool leather. Chelsea waited nervously as Dean walked to the front door and glanced outside.

  “He’s here now.”

  It didn’t take long for the doctor to enter, and as he and Dean exchanged greetings, Chelsea leaned back. Her heart was pounding wildly and she glanced up as the two men walked over to her.

  Doctor Reese was a middle aged man, significantly shorter than Dean with wildly dark brown hair and glimmering blue eyes. He gave her a friendly smile, holding a black bag in his grasp. After the introductions, he observed her knee and nodded to himself.

  “Fluid in the knee,” he remarked. “Sometimes this just happens unexpectedly. It can be quite puzzling as to what caused it. But an injection of corticosteroid and draining the fluid will take care of it.”

  Chelsea nodded and met Dean’s gaze. He gave her a reassuring smile, but she could read the concern in his eyes. As Doctor Reese withdrew what he needed from his bag, Chelsea held Dean’s stare, knowing that as long as she looked at him, she felt safe, and nothing else mattered.

  The next day, she could move her knee. The swelling had reduced significantly. A relieved smile tugged at her lips as Chelsea swung out of bed and dressed herself. Dean’s consistent care throughout the day made her realize that she didn’t need to be afraid of either her knee or her feelings for him. His lingering touch and comforting embraces only added to her belief that a relationship was possible. It was time to confront him.

  She left her room and went downstairs, the hem of her pastel green dress skimming her thighs. Chelsea walked gingerly but with a newfound confidence Dean’s attentiveness had given her. He’d helped her through so much without an excuse.

  As she entered the living room, she saw him lying on the couch, dressed in a navy blue shirt and black pants. Dean immediately sat up when he heard her approach, and his gaze went down her body.

  Chelsea blushed, recognizing the lustful gleam in his eyes.

  “How’re you feeling?”

  His voice was husky and deep.

  “Fine,” she responded. “No more pain. And I can walk. It was a minor case this time.”

  He nodded and a relieved smile crossed his face. “Glad to hear it.”

  Chelsea hesitated, lost in the heated look he was giving her. How can he get to me like this? Her thoughts were spiraling towards the night they shared together. Quickly pushing it aside, she lightened her tone. “Thank you, Dean.”

  “Just don’t like to see you hurt.”

  Chelsea smiled, touched by his words. She took a few steps closer to him, preparing herself to mention her feelings. It was a delicate balance between seeming interested but not desperate.

  “I think we should talk about us.”

  Dean straightened, his eyebrows rising briefly in surprise. “What about?”

  “I know you…that we both wanted sex that night.”

  He nodded. She waited for him to say that it was something more. But Dean said nothing. A sinking feeling overcame Chelsea, and she swallowed heavily, trying to keep her expression even. It doesn’t mean more than sex to him.

  “We can’t let it happen again.”

  The very words she didn’t want to say. But it was for the best. Chelsea knew Dean cared for her, but it seemed as if her own feelings were stronger. She couldn’t risk a one sided relationship, not that he was interested.

  Dean stood up from the couch and strode towards her. Standing close to her, Chelsea felt her body respond. The warmth of her skin, the need to touch him. She felt herself getting wet below, her breathing shallow as her cheeks flushed in response. Arousal came so easily around him.

  Chelsea took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

  “If that’s what you want,” he said. “I don’t want to push anything on you.”

  “You’re not. We’re keeping this professional.”

  “As we agreed.”

  Chelsea pursed her lips, waiting for him to say anything. Her heart was racing. But Dean turned around and went back to the couch, resting against the leather as he crossed one leg over the other.

  She let out
a breath, grateful for the distance between them. But the sinking pain in her chest wouldn’t leave. There was dampness in her panties as she crossed the wooden floor to stand a few feet away from Dean.

  “I’ve been wondering what you do while I’m upstairs on the computer,” Chelsea remarked, attempting to lighten the mood. Anything to turn off the heavy sexual tension between them. Anything to shut off the voice that insisted she’d made a mistake by mentioning that night.

  Dean glanced up at her as if surprised she hadn’t left. Then he reached for a book sitting on the side table and opened it up to reveal it was a case covering a small laptop. A recent Sony model, Chelsea noticed. Far too small and slim. And expensive.

  “I’m studying,” he explained. “Picking up from when I left university.”

  Chelsea stared at him in admiration. Another part of Dean Westley she’d uncovered. She smoothed her dress down and gently sat at the edge of the couch, being aware not to sit close to him. Dean cleared his throat, and she noticed he was avoiding looking directly at her.

  Sleeping together acknowledged how they felt for each other. But Chelsea’s feelings for him had grown over the past few days, and his hadn’t. She felt torn between wanting to tell him, and to keep quiet. At any mention of feelings, it could ruin what they had. There was too much fear of being rejected.

  “You dropped out?”

  “It was my childhood dream to be a doctor. Someone of importance, someone with respect. But reality came knocking. I realized I didn’t have the passion for it,” he explained. “I gained all the money I could dream of at the cost of losing everything else. My family. My life. So I followed my next passion – women. Drowned my grief in all the sex and alcohol any man could want.”

  At Chelsea’s grimace, he added, “All safe sex, don’t worry. I was young and stupid, but not that reckless. My behavior pushed Jake away. Cemented myself in the media. In the end, I did get respect, and acknowledgement. Just not in the way I thought.”