by Anne Rainey
“Dean,” she said with a hint of fear in her voice, and her big green eyes were eating him up.
“You’ve been a bad girl, Catherine,” he said with a smile. “I gave you a specific order, and you chose to ignore it.”
With Catherine’s arms tied above her head and her body all sprawled out and naked for him, Dean knew he’d never seen anything hotter in his life.
She wiggled her hands, testing the knot, and pouted. “I can’t touch you like this. Release me.”
“Not quite yet. I sort of like you at my mercy, sweetheart.”
“Well, I don’t like this game anymore,” she muttered.
“You love my games,” he whispered. “Give it a chance.”
She turned her head away, refusing to speak.
He took hold of her chin and forced her to look at him. “Catherine, I’ll release you if it’s really want you want,” he reassured her. “Is it?”
She appeared to mull that over before tentatively replying, “I’m willing to try, I suppose. But I don’t like that I can’t touch you.”
He stroked his thumb over her lower lip. “You’re so stubborn and incredibly sexy and you’re all mine, every part of you. Trust me to make you feel good.”
“Dean,” she moaned, “I can’t think with you on top of me.”
His body hummed to life at her words. “Mmm, I love feeling your soft curves under me. You make me so fucking hard, Catherine. I want to be buried inside your tight pussy right now.” Dean spread himself out over her, covering her body with his and pinning her to the mattress. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted to be with like this,” he told her. “The only woman I’ve ever made hot chocolate for. And the only woman I’ve ever sketched. No other could ever compare to you, Catherine.”
“Oh, Dean,” she whispered, “when you say things like that I fall in love all over again.”
He smoothed his fingers over the swell of her left breast and then moved to her rib cage. A finger dipped into her belly button, and he took a moment to play with the ring he found there. “I need to buy you some jewelry so you can have a different one for every day of the year.”
Catherine arched upward. “I can barely stand it, Dean. I feel like I’m burning up inside.”
“I’ve dreamed of having you like this.”
“Then take me, Dean. Make love to me,” she begged.
Dean watched her as he anchored one arm beside her head and smoothed her hair away from her face with the other. He kissed her and watched as tears sprang to her eyes.
“Why the tears, sweets?”
“Because I don’t want this to end. Ever.”
“Then let’s make it last a lifetime,” he murmured as he moved down her body and kissed her pussy. Catherine tasted like the juiciest fruit, tangy and sweet. Dean wanted to eat her up. Catherine held still as he pulled her legs over his shoulders on either side of his head and began lapping at her throbbing clit. His mouth suckled her hard bud into his mouth and flicked it back and forth with his voracious tongue. She moaned his name and mashed her lower body against his face. When he slipped his tongue into her tight passage, the rhythm akin to what he wanted his dick to do, she cried out and arched upward. His hands toyed with her breasts, kneading and pinching the pretty tips. Too quickly, Catherine screamed his name as she burst all around him in a magnificent climax.
Seconds passed before she opened her eyes. At the knowledge that he’d so thoroughly satisfied her, a sense of predatory satisfaction took him. “No way am I going to live without you,” he bit out. “One way or the other, Catherine, you belong to me.”
“I’ll always be yours,” she said, but Dean could see the uncertainty in her eyes. She didn’t think they could make it work. Dean would simply have to prove her wrong on that score.
He gently placed her legs back down onto the bed and rose above her. They held each other’s gaze as Dean carefully positioned himself against her entrance. “Now, sweetheart.”
Catherine took hold of the headboard and smiled her acceptance. Her gentleness sucked the air out of him. She was so beautiful and willing, and Dean wanted to hold the image of her like this in his head forever.
He began pushing inside her heat, and tears sprang to Catherine’s eyes. Dean paused. “Catherine?”
“I love you,” Catherine whispered.
Her words made Dean want to howl at the moon. He covered her mouth with his in a claiming kiss as he thrust his cock deep. He swallowed her moans as he began making slow, sweet love to the woman of his heart. Soon, Catherine was pleading for more. Dean gave up any hope of maintaining his control and fucked her faster, harder. She matched his rhythm stroke for stroke. All at once, Dean lost control.
He threw his head back and let out a low, rumbling growl. The untamed sounds coming from Catherine had him nearly careening over the cliff. His hips gyrated against hers, forcing her body into the mattress as he fucked her with feral abandon.
Dean watched as Catherine appeared to climb higher and higher, the sensitive bud of her clitoris rubbing against his body with each thrust. His thoughts splintered as his climax began to pull him under. Dean flexed his hips and shoved deep once more, then he poured his come inside her, filling her up.
Catherine moaned and clutched the headboard in a tight grip as she shouted, her orgasm pouring over her. To Dean, watching Catherine come was the single most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed. Once she’d settled back to earth, Dean untied her hands and began massaging her wrists. Once she lay limp, Dean pulled out of her. Her eyes opened, and they stared at each other, no words passing between them. Tomorrow she would be going back to Georgia, and Dean would have to watch her go. He didn’t know how the hell he would survive it.
He lay down beside her and pulled her into his body, holding her close. His name came out as a breathless whisper, and it was the sweetest sound Dean had ever heard. He ached to hear it night after night, but how? The thought kept him awake until after dawn.
27
Dean woke instantly alert. Something was off, he could feel it. He reached out and found Catherine’s side of the bed cold. When he opened his eyes and looked around the room, only to find it empty, he frowned. He shoved out of bed and pulled his jeans on. When he heard a noise in the kitchen he thought maybe she’d decided to make breakfast, but as he entered the room, Dean found her sitting at the table, papers spread out in front of her. Oh, God, no. It can’t be. Catherine looked up. Tears were streaming down her cheeks only to fall to the table unchecked.
“When were you planning to tell me about this?” She grabbed one of the papers in a tight fist and waved it in the air. “When were you going to tell me that my father was a rapist!”
Dean saw the devastation on Catherine’s face, and it tore him up inside. “I just got the information yesterday,” he said in a quiet voice. “I was going to tell you about it today.”
She threw the paper down and shoved out of the chair. “You had me investigated, didn’t you? You never truly trusted me at all.”
Dean shook his head and crossed the room. He took hold of her shoulders and shook her. “Stop it, Catherine. You know that’s not true. I do trust you. Hell, I’m in love with you.” He pointed to the papers and bit out, “I did ask Jonas to do some digging, but that was before, sweetheart.”
“Before we had sex the first time, Dean?” He winced. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
She tore out of his arms and headed to the bedroom. Dean followed, his stomach in knots. “Just give me a chance to explain.”
“Explain that you had me investigated? Explain that you had these papers last night and didn’t say a word about them?”
Dean stood helplessly by while Catherine went about getting dressed. “I didn’t trust you at first—you knew that, damn it. I did have you investigated, but when I told you I trusted you, I meant it. When I told you I loved you, I meant it.”
She snorted. “Yeah, right. Did you get a kick out of finding that information, Dea
n? You were right all along. As it turns out there were more secrets. You must be so freaking thrilled!”
“Damn it, Catherine, that’s not the way it happened!”
She slumped. “God, I’m such a colossal fool, but then again I’m the product of a rape, so maybe it’s in my DNA to be a complete loser.”
Dean’s anger boiled over. He closed the distance between them and took hold of her upper arms and shook her. “Don’t ever say that to me again,” he bit out. “That son of a bitch has nothing to do with you, Catherine. Nothing, do you hear me?”
Catherine yanked away and turned around. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. I’m going home.”
“Don’t go, not like this. Please, sweetheart, talk to me.”
“The worst part of it is, I actually thought you cared.”
Dean felt as if someone were ripping his heart out with their bare hands. He needed her to know how much she meant to him. How much he loved her. He’d screwed up royally and he had no way to fix it.
“Catherine, I do care,” he said, urging her to hear him. “I love you. Please, if you believe nothing else, then at least believe that.”
She turned back to him. “The games are over. We’ve had our fun, but it’s time for me to go home,” Catherine stated in a voice so devoid of emotion that Dean barely recognized it as the same woman who’d not so many hours ago declared her love for him.
He stepped into the doorway to block her exit, unwilling to let it end this way. “Give me a chance,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “That’s all I ask.”
“You hurt me, Dean,” she replied as she looked down at the floor. “You promised you wouldn’t, but you did.” He started to speak, but Catherine looked back up and their gazes caught. “I know your reasons,” she said, her voice softening a fraction.
“Linda’s betrayal tore you up, and I get that. I even understand your need to have me investigated. I was practically a stranger when I came here, and you were protecting your family.” She swiped at the tears on her face and muttered, “But none of that explains why you didn’t share that information with me the minute you received it.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her. The pain in her eyes was killing him. “I wanted the night with you,” he said in a gentle tone. “It was selfish, I know, but I wanted our last night together to be perfect. I swear, I planned to tell you everything.”
Catherine frowned. “I need time to think. Please, don’t stop me, Dean. I feel like I’m shattering here,” she said, her voice trembling. “Please.”
Dean had the sinking feeling that if Catherine left now, she’d be leaving for good. But he couldn’t stand to see her in pain either. Besides, it didn’t matter where she went, he would find her. She was his heart, and he would do anything to keep her.
Dean stepped out of the way and watched as she gathered her coat and purse, then walked out his front door. For what seemed like hours, Dean stood there, staring, willing her to come back. It didn’t happen. She was gone. He didn’t know if she would forgive him, but he was willing to give her a little time. And if she didn’t come back to him, then he would go to her, because there was no way he could live without her.
When Catherine got in her rental car her hands were shaking and she felt like she was about to break into a million pieces. She started the car and took off down the road, not really caring where she went. Dean had investigated her behind her back? And the information he’d discovered; Catherine still couldn’t comprehend it. She wanted to throw up when she thought of what her mother had endured. Her and Gracie’s mother, she reminded herself. Did Gracie know about this? She didn’t think so.
God, no wonder her mother had given her away. What woman would want the constant reminder of such a horrific event? The knowledge that she was the product of something so cruel sent a wave of nausea through her. She frowned, wondering if her adoptive parents had known how she’d been conceived. It would explain why they hadn’t wanted to tell her she was adopted. They had to suspect that she would one day be curious enough to seek out her biological parents. She supposed she had Dean to thank for saving her the trouble, she thought bitterly.
Catherine turned a corner and realized she was heading straight for Gracie’s house. When their place came into view she slowed and parked along the curb directly in front. She turned off the engine and got out. Gracie met her at the door, her eyes filled with tears and her face ashen. Catherine knew in an instant that Gracie knew everything.
When she walked up the front walk, Gracie pulled her into her arms for a hug. Catherine lost it. She cried herself dry. Several minutes later she found herself on the couch, Wade on one side, Gracie on the other. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled as she blew her nose. “I don’t usually cry like that.”
“You had good reason,” Wade said. “I just talked to Dean. He was worried about you.”
Catherine frowned at the knowledge that he’d called looking for her. God, she loved him, but knowing that he’d dug into her life behind her back still made her feel betrayed. “He needn’t be. I’m fine.”
Gracie patted her on the hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m not even sure where to start. I-I just can’t take it all in.”
“Me either. I feel awful for thinking such rotten thoughts about our mother all these years.” Gracie shook her head. “What she went through, it must have been horrible.”
“And to top it all off, she ended up pregnant as a result.” Catherine felt sick. “My father was a—”
“Stop beating yourself up,” Wade said, his tone firm. “Both of you. This whole thing took place years ago. Neither of you are responsible.”
“I know, but knowing I have his DNA . . .” Catherine couldn’t finish the sentence; it was too disgusting to say aloud.
“You are Jean and Russ Michaels’s child, Catherine,” Gracie said, her voice stronger now. “They’re the people that raised you. They’re the ones that matter.”
Catherine looked into her sister’s eyes and said, “I wish I could go back in time. I wish I’d never found those papers in Dean’s kitchen.”
“How did you find them anyway?” Wade asked. “Dean didn’t say.”
“I’d gotten up early to make us something to eat.” She smiled. “I was going to surprise him with breakfast in bed.” She had to swallow back the pain when she said, “His coat was tossed over the table, and when I went to hang it on the chair the papers fell out of his pocket.”
“Damn, I’m sorry as hell you had to find out that way.”
“Me too,” Catherine said, getting angry all over again.
“I don’t know if it helps, but Dean planned to tell you. I know that for a fact. And when I talked to him just now he sounded . . . pretty beat-up.”
She didn’t want to get into whether Dean had intended to tell her. As far as she was concerned, when he went to Jonas to get information on her would’ve been the time to tell her. Still, the thought of Dean suffering made her heart ache. “He told me he loved me, and God help me, but I believed him.”
“He went about this all wrong, Catherine, and I’m not going to sit here and defend his actions,” Wade said. “Still, Dean doesn’t say those words to a woman unless he feels them deep down in his soul. If nothing else you can be certain of that much.”
“What does it matter?” She shrugged. “I’m leaving today. I’ll be in Georgia, and Dean’s life is here. The honeymoon is over.”
“Don’t bet on it,” Wade bit out. “If I know my brother, he’ll give you some breathing room, but don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s just going to let you walk out of his life.”
“The Harrisons are stubborn that way,” Gracie said with a smile that lit up her entire face.
Catherine’s hopes lifted a measure. Would Dean forget her after she left or would he come for her? And what would she do if he did?
Unwilling to ponder that frustrating quandary, Catherine stood. “Well,
I probably should head back to the hotel. I need to get packed and get to the airport.”
“I wish you’d let us see you off,” Wade said as he hugged her close.
“No, those types of big good-byes just make me cry. I’ve cried enough for one day.” She smiled and took Gracie into her arms next. “Thank you, for everything.”
Gracie sniffed. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll be back for the wedding though,” Catherine said, feeling a fresh bout of tears coming on. “And you and Wade are more than welcome to visit me anytime you want.”
Gracie pulled back and asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Catherine pasted on a smile. “I’ll be fine, really.”
After they said their good-byes, Catherine got back into her car and drove away, tears welling up in her eyes. “The flight home is going to be damned miserable,” Catherine groused.
28
Catherine had been depressed for days. Her website design business, which she usually loved, seemed tedious now. She couldn’t stop thinking about Dean. He was on her mind 24/7. At random moments throughout the day, she would get bombarded with thoughts of him. He was everywhere. She couldn’t even bring herself to sleep in her own bed because it felt empty and cold without Dean holding her close. Since arriving back home two weeks ago, Catherine had been sleeping on her parents’ couch.
Mary had called her several times, but she’d avoided her. Catherine didn’t want to have to put on a false front. She didn’t feel like pretending she was fine. That she wasn’t hurting and missing Dean like crazy.
It was Thursday night, and she found herself sprawled out on the couch, sucking down a beer. She didn’t even like beer all that much, but wine made her think of Dean so she avoided the stuff like the plague. Her hair looked like crap, her clothes were wrinkled, and she couldn’t even bring herself to deal with the rest of her parents’ things.
