Concealed Desire

by Eden Summers

  “Well, my itch is far from being scratched.” He placed the bottle on the table with a thud and moved to his feet. Her lungs constricted at his approach and he didn’t stop until they were a foot apart. His stare seeped under her skin as he leaned in, a lock of hair falling down to cover one eye, and he placed his hands on the railing on either side of her. She held her breath. “I want you. Not just for the night, or the morning, or whatever else you think. I want you…I want me and you.”

  He leaned closer, his lips brushing hers, the mix of beer and heat and man mingling on her tongue, sizzling her veins. “No other woman has made me want to beg.”

  Another kiss brushed her lips while his hips settled against hers. “No other woman, Beth.”

  Her lips parted on a moan, eagerly anticipating his kiss, and all the fight drained from her body. There was no more strength of will, no more self-preservation. She could feel his erection through the material of his jeans, and couldn’t find a reason to deny herself any longer. She wanted him. Wanted to spend the night making love to him, having sex with him, whatever he wanted to classify it as, just as long as his body was between her thighs, dulling the ache.

  “Let’s order Chinese.”

  Beth paused in confusion and mentally shook herself. Chinese? Her body hummed, her panties were damp, and he was talking about Chinese. Hadn’t he just been kissing her, grinding himself into the softness of her belly?

  “I promised you no sex, remember?”

  Beth growled. Yeah, she remembered. It flashed like a neon sign in her mind.

  Chapter Ten

  Dean had never shared a meal with another person and enjoyed the experience as much as he just had with Beth.

  Over dinner, their usual comfortable mockery had been emphasized with the buzz of a few beers and a bottle of wine, and he couldn’t help but find her happiness contagious. His focus was glued to her, firmly stuck on the smile plastered on her face while he helped clear away the dirty plates.

  The banter during the meal had left them both clutching their ribs in laughter and his cheeks were already sore from smiling. He loved making her laugh. There wasn’t a sweeter sound. The noise filled him with a strange sense of pride that a man like himself could make a woman like her happy in any sort of way.

  Once the main meal was finished Beth had risen from her seat and walked toward him with the box of fortune cookies. He’d sat in silence, resting back in his chair, noticing how her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink with her approach. She moved in beside him, clearing space on the table. Taking a seat in front of him, her gorgeous legs crossed provocatively, causing her skirt to hitch up her thighs. His mouth dried, and he struggled to clear his throat. He didn’t speak, didn’t want to scare her off as she broke apart small pieces of fortune cookie and shyly bent at the waist to place them in his mouth.

  They fed one another, the previous playful moment now replaced with a growing intensity that turned him hard as stone. Christ, he wanted her. He was dying to get between her legs, to run his fingers over her soft flesh and taste her essence. To make her thrash with need and scream his name in ecstasy. He only had to push up her skirt, turn her legs toward him, and let his wandering hands do the rest.

  The mere thought made him itch to palm his cock. His sex drive had always been strong, even on his weakest days, but never like this. He needed Beth with a hunger so fierce it ate him from the inside out.

  What surprised him the most were the new hungers he hadn’t experienced before. He wanted to simply hold her, to drown in the sweet scent of her hair and run gentle fingers along her creamy white skin. The craving to simply be with her equally matched his sexual appetite. He wanted to drown in the sea-green depths of her eyes and feel the heat spread through his veins when she smiled, her eyes crinkling, her tiny dimples showing.

  “Are you ready to watch a movie?”

  Beth’s voice startled him. He’d been staring at the tablecloth like a dickhead, lost in his own little world.

  “Yeah, sounds good.”

  She led the way into the living room and knelt in front of the entertainment unit. He couldn’t help admiring all the benefits her tight skirt had to offer while she riffled through the DVDs they’d picked up after the grocery store.

  “What do you want to watch?”

  He honestly didn’t care. If the movie started with Beth snuggled in his arms he would even agree to a chick flick. “You—” He began to answer when his cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket. He pulled it out to check the caller ID. Megan—his sister.

  “Do you mind if I take this?” He made a conscious effort to ignore work calls today, but preferred not to leave the call from his sister unanswered. When your father was a bastard, you tended to hold tight to the remaining family you had left.

  “Go ahead. I’ll make some popcorn.”

  Beth stood and made her way from the room while he stayed on the couch and answered the call. His sister hadn’t uttered a word before his heart began pounding in his throat, her uncontrollable sobs shaking his foundation.

  “Megan, what’s wrong?”

  In the seconds before she replied his thoughts went into a tailspin. Had something happened to his mother? His father? Then he remembered her pregnancy and his palms started to sweat.

  “It…it’s Tina…” Her voice broke in anguish.

  Tina? Dean frowned while his brain jumped to a thousand different conclusions. He had no clue who she was talking about. He could only remember one Tina, Megan’s best friend from high school, but he hadn’t heard anything about her in years.

  “She’s dead.” The words came out in a choked cry and his heart skipped a beat. He clutched the phone to his ear and closed his eyes, wishing he stood beside her instead of them being hours apart. After pushing up from the couch he paced the room, his body demanding action, commanding he do something, anything.

  “What happened, Meg? Where are you?”

  “H-her car…s-she fell asleep…” Another sob had his fingers encircling the phone tighter, fighting the urge to crush the plastic into tiny little pieces.

  “Where are you?” he demanded, wanting to get to her, to hold and protect her.

  Her cries continued, her agony piercing him like a knife. He treasured his sister and couldn’t stand the ache building in his chest knowing she was hurting.

  When Megan’s sobs grew faint, echoing into the background, a man’s voice came over the line. “Dean?”

  “Mark? What the hell is going on?” He glanced up, noticing Beth cautiously enter the room, her brow wrinkled with concern while Megan’s husband spoke.

  “It’s OK,” Mark assured. “We found out Tina passed away a few hours ago. I’m trying to keep Megan calm for the baby’s sake, but nothing I do is working. I thought talking to you might help, but she’s inconsolable. I don’t know what else to do.”

  Fuck. He stopped pacing, trying to calm his mind so he could think. Where were his keys? He needed to be with his sister. “I’m on my way.”

  “No. Don’t. She’ll be all right. You wouldn’t be able to get here before morning anyway, and Megan will hate herself for making you come all this way. Once she gets some rest and isn’t dealing with the shock, I know she’ll settle down.”

  Dean was thankful his sister had found someone like Mark to look after her. Dean had spent many of his younger years taking care of her, being the father she needed, and he now found it hard to let go. He hadn’t been the person she turned to for guidance or support for a long time, but Megan would always be his baby sister, and he didn’t think he would ever stop picturing her as a fragile little girl.

  “Can you put her back on?” Dean swallowed over the dryness in his mouth. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t fucking cry.

  “Yeah sure, hold on a sec.”

  He waited, paused in Beth’s hallway as he roughly ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the lengths in frustration. What the hell should he do? When Megan picked up the phone, his relief was palpable. She ha
d stopped sobbing, her grief now expressed through soft sniffles and ragged exhales.

  “Megan? I know you’re hurting, and I wish more than anything in the world that I could be there with you, but you need to listen, OK? You need to be strong.”

  A strangled cry echoed through the phone into his chest. The noise penetrated his soul, making his eyes burn. Not willing to share his weakness with Beth, he walked farther down the hall, opened the front door, and sat on the steps of her porch. “Listen, you have a beautiful baby to care for. And I know it’s hard, but you need to stay strong for the little one.” He paused, thankful to receive a sniff and mewled affirmation in reply.

  “Now when you hang up the phone, tell Mark to run you a warm bath. Grab one of those romantic Sheikh books you love and try to relax. I know you’re surrounded with horrible thoughts at the moment, but you need to drown in the good memories. Think about the happy times, the ones that made you laugh.”

  He prodded his forehead with strong fingers, trying to rack his brain for a memory of his little sister and her best friend. Vivid images of them scheming and laughing filled his mind, but he couldn’t grasp a specific memory.

  “OK.” Her voice was weak.

  “How about the crush Tina used to have on David Wilkins?” He was clutching at straws, but the memory was better than nothing. “Remember the time he came over to study with me for a math exam and the two of you stalked him the whole time? The guy refused to come back to our house after that. Tina ended up leaving a love letter in his locker, didn’t she?”

  He received a half-sobbed chuckle in reply. “Yeah, she made me put it in there. She was too scared to get caught.”

  “Try and remember all those fun times for me, OK? Try and think of the best memories you have. Then write them down. And I know you need to cry, babe; I know you’re hurting; just make sure you breathe. Make sure you stay strong for that little niece of mine.”

  Megan sniffed. “Or nephew.”

  “Yeah, or nephew. Although I’m convinced it’s a girl.”

  Dean rested his head in his palm while silence stretched between them. He wished he knew what to say to ease her grief, to take the pain away and make her smile, even just for a little while.

  “Thanks, Dean,” she whispered.

  “I love you, Sis.”

  “I love you, too,” she replied. “I’m going to go. Mark’s already running me a bath. I just needed to hear your voice.”

  “Be strong, Meg.”

  The call disconnected leaving him in deafening silence, weighed down by the heaviness in his chest. Megan was twelve when their father cheated on their mother, tearing apart the family and leaving Dean to be the man of the house. He hadn’t been the best role model, hadn’t always known what to do or say, but at least he stuck around.

  Behind him the door creaked, announcing Beth as she approached. He took a moment to gain his composure, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes while he breathed deep and stood.

  “Sorry.” She cringed. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just wanted to check to see if you were all right.”

  He moved toward her, needing her strength. Picking up her hand, he stared at the delicate skin and could only see the image of his crying sister. He didn’t think he could stay away and rely on Mark to take care of her. As he raised Beth’s knuckles to his lips, he tried to convince himself Megan’s husband would be enough.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Her voice was filled with compassion, penetrating his wayward thoughts.

  He gently pulled her into his chest, wrapped his arms around her waist, and let the delicate warmth of her body suffuse him. Holding her tight, he told her about his sister, about the loss of Tina and how she needed to stay strong for the baby.

  Beth clung to him while he spoke in hushed whispers on her front porch. Not once did she waver in her hold or shift from foot to foot as if bored by his story. He didn’t realize the way his shirt clung to him in patches until his words had dried up, her tears dampening the material.

  Clutching her tighter, his heart grew heavy with gratitude. He would never be able to let her go. He wanted to keep her in his arms and could no longer imagine being without her. He would always want her near, for comfort, for pleasure, for everything—forever.

  Chapter Eleven

  Beth hugged Dean’s waist, her head resting on the firm planes of his chest. The frantic pulse of his heartbeat thrummed into her ear while her tears continued to fall.

  His vulnerable side touched her in places she never thought feelings for Dean would reach. He had always been a fantasy and she held her barely contained lust for him very close. Now the dynamics had changed. He was real. A real man, with real feelings, not just a fantasy.

  “Let’s go inside.” He placed a kiss on her forehead and loosened his grip.

  As she moved out of his embrace, his fingers trailed down her arm, stopping at her hand, where he grasped it firmly, leading the way into the house. She didn’t know what to do. Did he need space? She knew guys didn’t do the whole emotional talking about feelings kind of thing, but ignoring what happened seemed wrong.

  When he suggested starting a movie again, she agreed, placing a romantic comedy in the DVD player. When the movie started, Beth walked back to the kitchen, fetching the now cold popcorn, another beer for Dean, and the remainder of her glass of wine.

  “Sorry, the popcorn’s cold. I’d make more but this was my last bag.” She handed him the beer and tried to determine where to sit. The remainder of the night needed to be friendly, not flirty, so one of the single recliners would be best.

  When she walked between Dean and the coffee table to reach her seat, he put his leg up, halting her passage. He gave her a somber smile and patted the spot beside him on the couch. “Come here.”

  Beth paused. She wasn’t confident she could hide her need to touch him if she sat so close. With measured steps she took the position beside him, leaving room between them. As she sank into the couch just out of his reach, he leaned over, slid an arm around her waist, and pulled her closer until their bodies touched from knee to waist.

  “I’m not hungry anyway,” he whispered into her hair, “so you can have all the popcorn.”

  Beth clutched the bowl tighter, sinking into his body in small increments, trying to relax.

  “I won’t bite.”

  The graveled tone whispered over her neck, the sweep of his breath so close she could sense the slightest friction from his lips on her earlobe. Not sure how to respond, she merely sank closer against him.

  Guilt clawed at her. He grieved for his sister’s friend, and yet she still couldn’t dampen her lust. Her body already hummed, finely tuned to his proximity and every move he made. The reaction was all kinds of wrong, and she wished she could shut it off.

  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 movement, gripping her body until she straddled his lap.

  Beth 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. Dean 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.

  Dean’s 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.