“Okay. Tap it lightly when I say ‘go,’” I shouted, my view of him obstructed by the open hood. I turned the key to the correct position. “Go!” I heard the clank of the hammer on metal, but the car didn’t start. “One more time?”
We tried again to no avail.
Dean closed the hood. Through the water streaming down the windshield, I made out the disappointed expression on his face. He came around to the passenger side and got in the car, his shoulders hunched. “No luck. I’ll get you towed to a repair shop. Do you have one in mind?”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He shot me a look and drew his phone from his pocket, his thumb posed to dial. “Where?”
“Okay. Let’s see...” I tried to remember the name of a place I’d been to a couple of times in Hayward. “How about... Oh! Try Matugan’s. They’re near my work. Sorry for the hassle.” I brushed my hand along his forearm and winked. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dean went through his contacts. He found the one he was looking for and held the phone up to his ear, the hint of a smile on his face somewhat easing the tension and the slight curl at the corner of his lips making him look boyish, when in fact he was anything but. This was part of what had charmed me the moment I’d met him at Selby and Alex’s Memorial Day barbecue. He’d struck me as this playful, handsome man who was also startlingly in control, and it astonished me how much that wicked mind of his captivated and consumed me, even all these months later. “Perfect. We’ll be here. Thank you.” Dean frowned and checked the time on his phone before sticking it back in his pocket. “They’ll be here in about thirty minutes. I’m going to wait with you.”
“But your meeting...”
“It’s fine. I told him I was going to help you and could meet him after. I’m taking him to lunch as a compromise.”
“Nice of him to be flexible.”
Dean agreed. “Think Selby can pick you up from the shop?”
“Should be fine.”
“Okay.” He grimaced at the road behind us, but once he turned his attention to my wet clothes and the hair I’d piled in a messy ponytail when I’d come back inside from the tire fiasco, he curved his hand around my thigh hard enough for me to suck in a breath. “Come here.”
I didn’t hesitate, the grin on my face impossible to refute as I climbed in his lap. “I owe you, don’t I?”
“For being a stubborn, feisty girl? I’d say so.”
I opened my mouth in mock surprise, but Dean dove in for a kiss.
There we were, madly kissing, arms wrapping around each other. I dug one knee into the center console and the other against the door. Dean grabbed my ass to yank me into him and let me feel his excitement growing even through the layers of our sopping clothes. His tongue danced in wild circles with mine while I ground against him, wanting him even after the many rounds we’d shared last night. When I ran my fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair, Dean groaned and caught my wrists. He pinned them behind my back before he stole his mouth away.
“I really wish you’d been more careful.”
“It’s fine! There’s nothing I could’ve—”
He tightened his grip, hard, so I rocked my hips until he took a sharp inhalation. He grabbed both my wrists into one hand, raking his other one in a hungry clutch up my thigh and to my hip, and when he squeezed me there, he bit my lip. “You should be punished for your obstinance.” His eyes were glossy, and despite his serious words, it was clear the friction of our bodies was getting to him. “For insisting on fixing your car when you should’ve called me.”
The tug of his hand spiked the arousal in me, but his ludicrous suggestion elicited a shake of my head. I pecked him on the lips. “I did call you. The tire was no biggie. Settle down. What’s gotten into you?” Dean scoffed and kept his grasp firm. “Are you maybe...nervous or something? Is this Christmas anxiety or what?”
Dean seemed to reconsider, his face softening somewhat. He mouthed my breast through my shirt. When I lurched in his lap, a grin almost returned to his lips. The fingers he’d dug into my hip slid down between my thighs, and Dean rubbed until a moan spilled from my throat.
He whispered, “You like that?”
Already breathless, happy whatever worry he’d harbored had settled with us cramped like this in his lap, I said, “Of course I do.” Dean slipped a finger under the button of my jeans and unfastened them. “Won’t the tow truck be here soon?”
“Do you care?” He brought down my zipper. He worked his fingers inside the tiny space as best he could, finding my clit through the fabric of my panties and giving it a firm rub. “Even misbehaving, you’re sexy as hell, Maya.”
I tried to ignore the irritation that tensed my neck over him dwelling on something this ridiculous, even as playful as he was trying to be. The next tantalizing rub of his fingers helped to draw a growl from me before his lips met mine. Dean kissed me fervently, hungrily, his fingers circling my clit through the fabric. I shifted in his lap, entranced by his groan and how full his cock felt beneath me. We went on like this for a while, Dean keeping my arms locked, tendrils of pleasure seeping down to the tips of my fingers and all through my legs with him teasing my clit and bucking up against me. I almost couldn’t see straight when he kissed me harder. I wriggled in his lap, doing my best to work him up too and panting at the skill of his touch. The urge for him to lay me down in the backseat to fuck me there on the side of the road with the rain drizzling over the windows ripped through me...
But the tow truck drove up with a honk.
Dean pushed me back. “Into your seat you go.”
“Hey!”
He smirked, inhaling huge breaths to calm down while he straightened himself in his pants. I fumbled with my own in an attempt to close them before the tow guy rapped on my window.
“Stay inside. I’ll work it out so you don’t have to get any more...wet.” Dean opened his door and hustled out to talk with the tow truck driver. I rolled my eyes, but over the next few minutes, he made arrangements for me. Once he signaled that I should get out of the car, I did, scarcely calmed when he planted a heavy kiss on my mouth and swatted my ass right there in front of the driver without an ounce of hesitation.
I was certain my cheeks turned bright red as I turned to face the guy. I extended my hand. “Hi,” I said, trying to contain the waver of my voice. “Thanks for coming to help with my broken car.”
The driver didn’t even flinch. “No problem, Miss...?”
“Clery. But Maya is fine.”
“Okay, ma’am.” He adjusted the hood of his raincoat and pointed at his truck. “Let me just rig it up. You can wait in the cab. I left the paperwork on the seat, if you’d fill that out. No need for all of us to stand in the rain.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll walk you.” Dean threaded his fingers with mine and we raced along the shoulder to the truck. I climbed onto the bucket seat that sat almost at his eye level, and he reached up to give my knee a squeeze. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Oh, my God. Why are you so worried over this?”
Dean clenched his teeth, a faint shadow clouding his eyes for the briefest of seconds before he lifted his head to meet me.
I stopped him, curious. “What is it?”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just... I love you.”
“I love you, too.” I tilted down to kiss him, his lips soft against mine. Then he broke away. “Have a good Saturday, okay?”
“I will. You too. Design something special!” I was referring to the amazing buildings I’d seen him draft with his architectural firm. After he left for his car, I shook my head.
I’d never seen him this tense over something as mundane as a car breakdown before.
Fortunately, the problem was solved.
Chapter Two
“Did I not tell you to get the car fixed?” Alex said, peering at me in his rearview. “One or two taps on that thing. That’s all you had.”
“I know, I know. I had too much happening this week at work.”
Selby spun around in the passenger seat, her face on the puffy side from having woken up not long before. She’d swept her wavy blond hair up in a precarious bun and had thrown on some loungewear, with not a speck of makeup in sight. Her relaxed appearance matched Alex’s half-combed hair, raggedy jeans and holey T-shirt.
“You’re lucky we love you,” she said.
“You were having a perfect Saturday cuddle, weren’t you?”
She shot me a joking half frown that I recognized well after almost three decades of friendship. She and Alex had been adorable together for the near five years they’d been dating, Selby with her enormous heart and Alex with his chill demeanor. Since he’d proposed a few months back, they’d somehow found a way to get cuter.
“Thank you again!” I said.
“At least Dean did the rescue part, huh?” Alex said, laughing.
Selby looked back at me. “Why do you think he was so worried about it?”
I’d texted her to arrange a pickup at the shop during my tow truck ride, and I’d casually mentioned Dean being overly concerned. “No idea. Holiday stress? He’s overprotective? He’ll get over it.” Dean had been more careful with me over the last couple of months, which I attributed to us getting more serious—but it’d still been a little out of character for him.
“Odd. But I’m surprised you didn’t call Alex in the first place.”
“You are? Seriously?” Alex caught my expression in the rearview before glancing at her.
“You fix everything. You’ve fixed Maya’s car for as long as we’ve been together.”
“Yeah, but Dean’s her boyfriend.” Alex shook his head. “I know you two are on and all, but I’m kind of still getting used to saying that. It’s weird for a guy like him. Hell, almost for you, too.”
I bit my tongue. Both Alex and Selby had been clear from the get-go that Dean was a player, which was why they’d avoided introducing us for the longest time. Selby was protecting me in some ways, knowing my disaster of a history with Charlie and its ripple effect on all the short-lived relationships I’d had since, even healed as I was. But once Dean and I had gone on our first date, we’d stumbled right into this thing.
“I’m happy for them. Took a bit, and I don’t understand you two sometimes,” Selby said, eyeing me, clearly referencing Dean’s dominant tendencies and the way I eagerly played along, which had formed a dynamic that wouldn’t cross her radar in a lifetime. She reached for Alex’s thigh. “But they’ll make the cutest maid of honor and best man couple ever, don’t you think?” Alex chuckled at her comment. “Speaking of...are we still on for next Saturday?”
“For dress shopping? Hell yeah!”
“I’m meeting with Stephanie again this week to finalize colors. I told her I wanted to avoid the standard combos and do something unique. This is all so exciting!”
One hundred wedding conversations with Selby had taught me that Stephanie was the most sought after local wedding planner, and scoring her to help work out the logistics of their mid-August wedding was a big deal. “That’s awesome, Selby.”
“I’m looking forward to the cake-tasting part.” Alex crossed his arm over Selby’s to caress her thigh, but she rolled her eyes.
“Lovebirds. What are you both doing today?” I asked.
Selby answered. “I think we’re taking it easy this weekend, for the first time in a while. Plus with Christmas coming so soon...”
“You need a break.”
Alex chimed in. “We do. And Mark is driving me bat shit. I need to chill.”
Selby kept her eyes on the road as we neared the entrance to my condo complex. “This guy is putting Alex through it! He doesn’t have his stuff together.”
“That’s the foreman?”
“Yep. Sometimes, he’s on it. Other times, pain in my ass.” The company Alex worked with, Fields Construction, was heavily involved in several big-scale projects in the Bay Area. As superintendent, Alex had a ton to handle—especially with how the company had started thriving in the last year and a half. “I’m thinking game.”
“Oh, yes. Forgot about that,” Selby said. “So, we’ll be watching the game tomorrow. That’s our big agenda. I’ll probably cook something, if you want to come over?”
“Possibly. Not sure yet. I might use the lack of car as an excuse to veg out.”
“You should!” Selby cupped Alex’s forearm. “And then Monday, honey, can you take her to work? I can’t be late for class.”
“Sure. I’m going to the site. I can run late.”
“Thanks, Alex,” I said.
“You bet.”
A moment later they dropped me in the lot outside my front door. “Sorry about the seat.” I gestured at the towel they’d brought for me, which was damp from the residual soak of my clothes. I needed a hot shower, stat.
“All good,” Alex said.
“Call if you want to come over tomorrow, okay?”
“Cool. Will do.” I waved and shut the car door to hustle out of the rain and into my house. I was way later than I’d planned to be but, excluding the car disaster, I’d had a fabulous last twelve hours. I slowed en route to the shower to text Dean.
Thank you for coming to my rescue, handsome. Home safe, I sent. Then I stripped off my clothes and jumped into the shower.
* * *
As one of the head administrators at Women Organized for Change, I’d held many roles during my career: organizing and running charity work and outreach programs, writing grants and, most importantly, counseling, assisting and advocating for clients who came in for intake appointments or on a long-term basis. Our nonprofit had been around for over twenty years, and I’d been with them since I’d earned my master’s—shortly after I’d left Charlie and decided I wanted to help women who’d been through the same thing I had. My three years under his thumb had subjected me to a slew of emotional and physical abuse, and plenty of humiliation and pain, so I understood how much strength it took for the women I worked with to live in it and ultimately, hopefully, decide to leave. Still, no matter how many years I’d been a social worker, or how many cases and clients I’d been involved with, there was no getting used to the experiences I witnessed.
That was why, after spending most of the day on an intake for a frantic woman who’d arrived bruised and with her three children in tow, I was ready to collapse well before I made it to the mechanic’s shop, never mind back to my house that evening. But Dean called shortly after my bath, and at the sound of his voice, I lay back on my pillows.
“Hey there,” I said, holding the phone to my ear.
“Ah, much better.”
“What is?”
“Hearing your voice. I don’t know what it is about you, but I swear the nights we don’t get to talk, the day doesn’t make the grade.”
His words cut through the strain of all I’d taken in today, from the puffy eyes of the woman’s children to the terrifying history she’d reported. Dean’s sentiments almost always did. Hell, everything about him had that effect on me—the playful, sweet side of him had made it easy to fall in love with him as fast as I had, and knowing it was mutual? It felt like pure perfection between us. I grinned. “That’s so sweet. I feel that way, too.”
“Well, aren’t we a pair of mush balls?”
I made out a slight crackle in his voice as he laughed, because mushy wasn’t Dean’s style. Or mine, for that matter. Yet here we were, doing this thing, blending chemistry and romance in such an addictive, entrancing way. “How was your day?”
“The usual. Drafting, phone conferences. Oh, there wa
s a weekly site meeting at the city building. That’s a nice change, and we worked out a ton of details. This project is just... I’m honestly thrilled with it. I think it’ll be beautiful when it’s finished.”
Dean’s firm, Sova Associates, had designed a bevy of luxury homes and complexes in the area. Considering their reputation—paired with the talent of my sexy boyfriend, Dean Sova—this particular client had given him full artistic range. Dean had shown me some of the plans he’d drawn up on one of my recent visits to his place. Between the circular entry hall with marble floors and columns and the panoramic windows spread throughout every room, the finished project was sure to blow the client’s mind.
“I bet it will be,” I said.
“What about yours? Was it a good day?”
“Eh, it was intense.” I gave a clipped report on the woman who’d come in, keeping the specific details confidential. Dean listened in his focused, caring manner through that and into my summary of the grant I’d put some time into in the afternoon. “If we can get the funding and connect with the college, it’ll be fabulous. I prefer the client end, but I’m kind of getting into organizing these programs. I feel like they’re helping the community, you know? It’s good.”
“I can imagine. That’s wonderful. Sounds like a nice complement to the rough start.”
“Definitely.”
“And did you get your car fixed?”
“Yes, I picked it up after work. Four hundred dollars later, it’s settled.”
“That’s not a bad price for solving that.”
I smirked. Dean was by no means excessively wealthy, but he was comfortable, considering some of his clients were as affluent as they were. I knew he’d paid a fortune for the loan he’d taken to build his place a decade before, and half the homes he worked on weren’t that extravagant, despite the average home price in the Bay Area being so high. But I was renting, after all. “Yeah, I guess. Must be nice working with all the rich folk. Four hundred would be a steal for you.”
Dean was quiet for a second. “Aren’t you sassy?”
The Discipline Page 2
