Living with Temptation

by Melinda Hale

  Now she felt bitter for all they shared together, knowing that it was uncertain. That it wouldn’t last. Good things never do. Because it wasn’t serious, it could all end so easily.

  “Good night,” Dean said softly.

  Chelsea started up the stairs, but almost hesitated when she recognized the hint of pain in his voice. It hurt him too to be apart from her. But what they had together in his house was a fantasy, and her reality awaited her at the apartment in Newark. A professional arrangement, she reminded herself.

  Chelsea entered her room and closed the door behind her, staring listlessly at the empty bed. She’d proposed that they spend a night together. Dean seemed to have forgotten of it, and she didn’t want to mention it. At the restaurant, she’d realized she wanted more than Dean could give her. And he knew that.

  She slumped onto the bed and checked her phone, then immediately sat up when a notification bore a message. From Ryan. It had to be important for him to message her this late. Chelsea opened it and read the words she was once afraid of: ‘I want a divorce. I have the papers for you to sign.’

  She expected to feel shock, or at least surprise that it was happening. But there was a twinge of pain in her chest. Chelsea no longer cared about Ryan, it was Dean who she wanted to be with. And judging from his earlier dismissal, he only wanted sex. Maybe a night without it is too hard for him, she thought bitterly. But why did he refuse? She couldn’t understand him.

  Chelsea sighed and ran a hand loosely through her hair. She glanced at the time. It was getting close to midnight yet she didn’t feel tired. She stood and turned her phone off, placing it onto the nightstand. Then she reached up and began peeling the straps from her shoulders.

  In her fantasy, it was Dean’s fingers touching her, standing bare-chested behind her, his body ready. All she needed to do was step back and sink into the firm warmth of his chest and his embrace.

  Behind her, she heard the door open. Chelsea gasped and jerked the straps up, spinning around to face Dean.

  “Don’t you know how to knock?” she snapped, her mind reeling from anger and arousal. Her cheeks flushing from shame – if he’d interrupted any later, he would’ve caught her in the moment.

  “Sorry. I guess I forgot,” he remarked, stepping closer to her, his voice lowering. “I’ve seen you naked before.”

  Chelsea swallowed, her gaze running down his body as she recalled the sight of his naked body, his eager hardness. What did he want?

  “Why aren’t you in your own room?” she retorted. Yet her voice wavered when Dean came close to her, his lips curved in a sensual smile. Chelsea’s gaze lowered to them, her thoughts drifting to the memory of his strong, firm body as he made love to her.

  Sex, she reminded herself. That’s all it is to him.

  “I wanted to see you.”

  Chelsea stepped back from him and folded her arms defensively. Tonight, she wasn’t going to give in.

  “What happened to sleeping with each other?” Dean asked, the tone of his voice teasing, almost seductive. “Without the sex?”

  “You didn’t mention it.”

  “I am now…”

  Chelsea stared at him. “So what do you expect me to do? Fall into your arms? Push how I feel aside for a night of sex?”

  “Do what you want. I’m here for you.”

  She tried to narrow her eyes but failed miserably. Dean took the last of her resolve at the restaurant, when his caring eyes looked into hers. All she wanted was him. That feeling had never eased.

  “Dean, I’ll never stop wanting you,” she confessed. How could she hide that from him anymore?

  “I know,” he whispered, raising his hand to trail it down her arm. His touch sent delicate shivers across her skin. Chelsea fought to restrain herself from kissing him.

  His voice broke her desire. “But…you’re still vulnerable.”

  “I think we can both tell I’m not anymore.”

  She heard his shallow breathing, knowing that he was holding back. “I can’t give you what you want from me.”

  Chelsea tilted her head. Her lips stopped before his, inches away from a kiss. The breath from his mouth caressed her skin, reminding her of the passion they had, the pleasure he could give her.

  “You can,” she insisted, knowing what she was proposing. “Tonight.”

  Another moment of passion between them. She no longer wanted to turn it away. Having Dean in her bed was better than another lonely night. Tomorrow she wanted to wake up with the memory of his body still clear in her mind before leaving.

  His brow furrowed. “I didn’t come here to seduce you. I needed to tell you how much I want you. How being apart from you and knowing we can’t have each other hurts…more than I can stand.”

  Chelsea’s lips parted as she considered his words. “It’s not about sex for you?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “So what’s your reason? Why can’t we be together?”

  “Because my life is different, it’ll get to you.”

  She shook her head. “I won’t let it!”

  “And I can’t give you everything you want.”

  “All I want is you!” Chelsea argued. “Damn it, Dean! Why don’t you-?”

  His lips met hers and she welcomed his kiss, throwing her arms around him with a fierce desperation. A hand went down her spine, teasing her through the fabric of her dress, and then rested at her lower back. Chelsea pushed her body against his. The bulge of his arousal pressed against her thigh. She moaned against his lips, clinging tightly to him as if it were their last night together.

  Dean’s hands roamed across her body, underneath the dress to cup the tender flesh of her breasts. Chelsea closed her eyes, letting him tease her exquisitely. He moved with confidence, with more assurance than last time.

  Her excitement peaked as he squeezed gently and released, his thumb tweaking her nipple through the fabric. How could he resist this? Dean slid the straps from her shoulder and she let her dress fall to the floor, exposing her body to him once more.

  The heat of his lips moved from her mouth, down her neck, to the top of her breasts where he gently kissed the mounds. His bare hands were on her skin, driving her wild. Dean raised his head to kiss her hungrily. Chelsea longed for him to take her, to slide into her and fuck her hard.

  Dean pulled away, breathing heavily, his need glazing his eyes. He removed his shirt, brandishing that naked, broad chest. Chelsea lowered her gaze to his skin, her lips parting from the sight. This was what she’d wanted, how she’d remembered it. Then his mouth was on hers again, his hands sliding down the smoothness of her body to unclip her bra.

  Grasping the firm mounds of her breasts, he squeezed them until she gasped. Dean’s mouth silenced her, claiming her tender lips again, each kiss building her need, increasing the passion until she tore away from him and begged him to fuck her.

  Dean smiled and began unbuckling his pants.

  Only moments ago they’d been in the restaurant, her eyes barely able to leave his. It was happening so fast, but Chelsea didn’t want to stop. Dean stepped close to her and she fell into his embrace. In his arms again, his relentless kisses touched her lips, her cheeks, her neck. Building upon the sexual tension that only faded under his touch.

  She stepped back, her skin damp and hot from his mouth.

  Chelsea turned away, knowing he was watching her ass as she walked to the bed, letting her panties slide down her thighs. She fell onto the sheets, the fabric cooling her skin. Soon Dean’s pants and briefs were gone, discarded on the floor as he made his way to her. In the light, she stared in heated passion at the shape of his body, his thick length erect and wet with moisture.

  Dean maneuvered his body over her. Their chests touched, her breasts pressed underneath his firm muscle, connecting them once more as his lips claimed her again. Chelsea gave into him, letting him trace his fingers across her skin, sending shivers of delight through her body.

  Her body tensed, her back arching as
she longed for him to touch her. Chelsea sat up, breathing heavily as she met his lips. Her tongue eased into his mouth, the movement echoing their love making. When she pulled away, he leaned forward for one more kiss.

  “Condom?” she prompted. She stopped taking the pill after realizing it didn’t stop her knees flaring up.

  “Don’t need one,” Dean explained. He tilted his head back so she could look into his eyes. “Chelsea, I’m sterile.”

  She gaped at him and when he kissed her again, it wasn’t enough to numb the shock.

  “How?” she demanded, her mind spinning.

  “I’ll tell you after,” Dean murmured. Luckily she hadn’t asked about it further, and he didn’t want to tell her the truth.

  He kissed her more forcefully and Chelsea fell back against the bed, her mind drifting away to focus on his touch, the feel of his skin. She parted her thighs and with one thrust, he entered her. The feel of his silken hardness made her gasp, and his kiss silenced her.

  With no plastic barrier between them, she could feel everything. Dean moved within her, each touch sending waves of pleasure through her body. Her inner walls tightened against him as each gentle motion brought her to her climax. As he moved faster, harder, she raised her hips, pushing him deeper.

  She released her mouth from his to cry out his name as the pleasure overcame her, her body shuddering. Dean’s skin slid against hers, his heated kisses on her lips, moving down to her neck.

  Chelsea gasped, awash in the afterglow of sex. She could see the concentration on Dean’s face as he held himself back.

  “I want you to come,” she breathed.

  Their lips touched in one brief moment until she felt Dean’s release against her. He throbbed within her, her body responding by clenching down on him. Chelsea gasped, feeling herself come again.

  “I wanted you to come more than once,” he grinned, his face flushed from exertion. Dean gave her a lazy, satisfied smile as he withdrew.

  Chelsea lay back, staring up at the ceiling in surprise. The warmth of his release was inside her, filling her with deep satisfaction.

  “I usually last longer,” Dean added, his voice husky.

  He moved off her to lie on his back against the bed sheets. Chelsea turned to look at him.

  “You lasted good enough.” That was an understatement.

  His smile was brief, his green eyes studying her face. “Don’t worry, you have very little chance of getting pregnant.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’m sterile,” he confessed. Chelsea noticed the dark pain in his eyes. “It happened a few years back. I made up my mind I was a player – it was my reputation and I enjoyed it. Being sterile didn’t matter to me then.”

  He paused for a moment before continuing. “It started three years ago. Around the time things with Jenny went downhill.”

  “Oh,” she said softly, not knowing what to say. He couldn’t have children. A family. Now she understood why he didn’t want to be with her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Hearing the pain in Dean’s voice, she met his gaze, her heart heavy from his confession. This had to be the reason why he couldn’t be with her. Chelsea noticed the hesitant look in his eyes.

  “I want to be with you, Dean,” she assured him.

  “I can’t give you a family.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Chelsea insisted. “I care about you. I want you to be happy. For us…to be happy. And I will be as long as I have you.”

  His lips were on hers again, and she let herself be carried away in his kiss, feeling his arms tighten around her as their bodies entwined.

  The next morning, Chelsea awoke on her side, the bed sheets clinging tightly to her bare skin. She blinked to clear her vision, noticing Dean sleeping soundly in front of her. She sat up, entranced by the gentle curve of his lips, the peaceful expression on his face.

  Her movement woke him.

  Dean cleared his throat. He opened his eyes and gave Chelsea a brief smile.

  “Morning,” he greeted her.

  “Hey.”

  “Last night…”

  Chelsea pressed her lips together. “Hope you aren’t going to say it was a mistake.”

  “Never! But I can’t promise you a relationship. I…”

  Obviously he doesn’t want us. Chelsea shook her head. “Just be honest. Tell me how you feel.”

  Dean was silent for a moment, then he smiled. In the morning light, his face gleamed from the afterglow of their sex. Chelsea didn’t want to admit how good it had been, she was sure he’d heard that many times before. But now he was trying to be distracting.

  Realizing she wasn’t falling for it, he spoke. “I didn’t want this to happen. You’ve been going through a vulnerable time…”

  “I know you don’t want to hurt me,” Chelsea interrupted. “I think we’re both past that stage. We want each other. Why’s it so bad to give into that?”

  “Because it can’t happen, Chelsea. I’m a millionaire, you’ll never be able to adjust to my way of life, or the media.”

  She glared at him, heat rising in her cheeks. “You think I can’t handle it? That’s all this is about? You’re worried about the media?”

  She threw herself out of bed and began pulling on her dress. Dean sat up, looking exasperated.

  “Chelsea…”

  “What’s the point of this? I’m moving out in two days. That solves everything.”

  She pivoted away from him and left the room, shivering in the cool air. If only she could go back and grab a coat. But Chelsea didn’t want to return to that room, to see Dean lying naked under the sheets. She gritted her teeth, then shook her head dismissively. All she needed was to be in Dean’s arms, to have the comfort of a relationship. Obviously their attraction was too hard to resist. It was only proof they could last together.

  But he doesn’t want me enough, she told herself. He’s better off being a player.

  Chelsea went downstairs, remembering how he came to her as she slumped helplessly on the steps. She walked into the kitchen, and began preparing herself a coffee. Dean had an expensive brand of instant coffee. But then, everything he had was of top quality. It wasn’t something she could get used to, but it was still a welcome luxury.

  She poured hot water into the cup and tentatively took a sip. The bitter taste was enough to wake her up, but not enough to allow her to forget last night. The memory of Dean’s touch, the feel of his lips. It was something she couldn’t forget, and she desperately wanted to feel it again.

  Chelsea ran a hand through her hair and sighed deeply.

  Only a few days left until she would be out of his life and the temptation of his bed. She pushed away the pain and grief that tore at her when she thought of that. Dean was a casual fling, he couldn’t cope with a real relationship. His indecisiveness to be with her was proof enough.

  Chelsea knew her insistence probably seemed desperate to Dean. But she wanted this to be more than casual sex. Now her resulting feelings were a mess and his rejection only hurt her more.

  “Why can’t I have you?” she murmured to herself.

  “I didn’t know you talk to yourself.”

  His voice made her jump, and she quickly glanced behind her to see Dean standing in the doorway, an endearing smile on his face. Chelsea’s gaze lowered down his bare chest to the briefs clinging tightly to his body, and that prominent bulge. She briefly closed her eyes, then turned away.

  “Why don’t you put clothes on?”

  “I know you’re upset,” he began.

  “Why should I be?” she retorted. “This is a professional arrangement. And you’re right, we can’t have a relationship.”

  Dean sighed. “Chelsea, I want you. So badly. And that’s not going to change.”

  She placed the cup of coffee on the kitchen counter and stepped close to him. In the bright morning light, his eyes gleamed. It was so tempting to lean forward and kiss him. But Chelsea didn’t want him without the promise of a
relationship, the security in knowing she would wake up every morning with him. It tormented her to know he didn’t want the same.

  “Let me propose something,” Dean decided. “We can be together, and keep it casual. Have a few dates every week. I can buy you a house nearby. It’ll be so inconspicuous the media won’t bother you.”

  Chelsea stared at him in disbelief. “Unbelievable,” she remarked. “You think I want it to be like that?”

  “I don’t see what’s bad with it. We’ll be together.”

  “You just want to push me aside as another casual fling! Well here’s a fact – I’m not like that. I don’t sleep around like you do.”

  Dean grimaced, but reached out to grasp her arms and pull her close. She noticed the bulge of muscle in his arms as he did so. A flare of arousal claimed her but she angrily pushed it aside.

  “Chelsea, I care about you. I’m doing this to protect you.”

  His fingers felt warm and rough against her skin.

  She pulled free of him. “I don’t need protection. I’m not helpless. Let me propose something to you, Dean. We forget about this. Obviously it’s a mistake.”

  He flinched, and the genuine pain in his eyes pulled at her.

  “Don’t say that. I know I can’t promise you we’ll work out…”

  Chelsea shook her head. “You know what I told myself after Ryan? If I was going to be involved with any man again, I wanted it to last. I was just naïve to hope it would be with you.”

  He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but closed it firmly. Chelsea stared at him, feeling as if her heart was breaking all over again. Giving herself to Dean last night had been a foolish impulse. Arguing with him felt pointless. She knew how she felt for him, and he wouldn’t acknowledge his own feelings. Maybe I just hope he feels the same.

  Chelsea lowered her gaze, not willing to look into his eyes. “I really liked you. Why take me out to the restaurant and play with my feelings like that?”