Falling for Fate (Second Chance Book 2)

by Quinn, Caisey

  Dean released the arm around her waist and used it to press her down over the counter.

  “Motherfucking hell,” Dean bit out into her ear. He pounded hard, relentlessly, while pulling the knot of hair at the nape of her neck.

  Once she could breathe again, she pressed her ass backward, meeting each thrust with one of her own. “Harder, Dean. Fuck me as hard as you need to.”

  He was so full of pent-up stress all the time. She got it now—the pressure of his position, his strained relationship with his father. He was trying so hard to balance it all, and she knew exactly how that felt. They could be this for each other—a release. A safe place where they could work out every fear, stress, and insecurity. He wasn’t the only one who needed that.

  He roared loudly and it echoed off the bare, white walls. The head of his cock pressed against her deep, causing a rippling effect through the most sensitive places until she couldn’t take it anymore.

  “I’m coming, Dean. I’m coming now.”

  His fingers pressed harder and she fell apart in his hands while he continued taking her roughly from behind.

  “Can’t keep standing,” she barely managed to get out.

  Dean used a hand to lower her to the cold tiles of the kitchen floor. He never once left her body. As soon as they were on the floor, he bit her shoulder where her dress and his sweater had fallen from it. The pinch of his teeth made her body overheat. It was too much, too many sensations for her brain to handle.

  The pressure built again and she cried out. It was overwhelming and seemed like it might destroy her if an orgasm crashed down on her again. Dean’s only response was to go deeper, filling her and bearing down into her while continuing to assault her clit with his fingers.

  “Dean, please,” she breathed out. “Dean. God. Ohgodohgod. Oh fuck! Dean!”

  The second wave hit, tearing through her core, and Fate couldn’t hold herself up any longer. She fell the few inches and pressed the side of her face to the cold floor while he finished. When the scorching bursts of his release filled her, a third wave threatened. She didn’t have the energy left to stave it off, so she just let it hold her under.

  She was still lying there when he stood and zipped his pants. His release was warm and thick, dripping out of her and down her thighs. She felt him do as he’d promised. His finger dipped into her then scrawled something, his name she was pretty certain, onto her bared ass cheeks.

  She hoped he planned to clean her up or, at the very least, help her up off the floor.

  He didn’t. He just walked out, straight out of the kitchen and, from the sound of it, out the French doors and out of the house.

  What the hell?

  Shame and embarrassment held Fate down for a few more seconds. Then rage picked her up.

  “Goddamn, motherfucking bastard!” She was alone, but she yelled the curses out anyway. Her wine glass was close enough to empty, so she gave in to the urge to throw it. The beautiful glittering shatter of glass offered only a mild relief.

  Now the asshole had gone and made her waste wine.

  She pulled herself together, using nearby paper towels to clean up. There was a use for Bounty she’d bet advertisers hadn’t thought of. She was fully prepared to storm outside and give Dean a piece of her mind when she saw him sitting alone on the shoreline.

  He looked so…lost. She remembered that feeling.

  “Why are you this way, you beautiful, mixed-up man?” she whispered against the closed door. “Who did this to you?”

  She’d been hurt too. She’d been damn near destroyed actually. But being with Dean made her feel as if she were coming back to life. Until he retreated from her immediately after every single time she thought they’d made progress. Being with her seemed to be making him feel worse somehow. But why?

  The only person who could answer that apparently wanted to be alone at the moment and as far from her as he could get.

  Instead of going outside to yell at him, she sat on the couch and watched him through the glass doors. After a while, the sun disappeared, pulling the last vestiges of pinkish-orange daylight with it into the ocean.

  “If only you’d tell me what was wrong,” she muttered. “Maybe I could fix you.”

  Therein lied the problem. She’d learned with Trevor. And Melissa.

  You couldn’t fix broken people. You could only hope that they valued you enough to try and be the best version of themselves that they could. No one had fixed her. Well, maybe Gwen had a little. But the majority of the healing hadn’t come from the words or actions of anyone else. It had come from picking herself up and surviving day after day.

  But you had to be able to admit that you were broken to begin with.

  Trevor couldn’t. Despite the dozens of voicemails he’d left over the past few months swearing that he’d changed, Fate could see much more clearly now. Trevor had his ideas about the world and his place in it. Even his apologetic voicemails managed to include some chastising comments about how ridiculous Fate was being to throw the opportunity of a life with him away.

  Melissa had written her a very long email and then told her that she’d love to hear from her one day if Fate ever felt inclined to reach out. She still had some hope for her former friend and wished her the best, but that didn’t mean she was ever going to run into the woman’s arms and try to reclaim a trust that had been shattered more thoroughly than the wine glass.

  Speaking of which, Fate decided to clean up her mess. After she finished, careful not to leave any little slivers behind that could slice up her or Dean’s feet, she walked onto the deck.

  The beach was deserted, the houses around them dark. There was only Dean standing at the edge of the ocean. She walked barefoot in the sand, wrapping his sweater around her more tightly to brace her from the wind.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she began barely loud enough to be heard. “I’d like to go for a swim.”

  He turned to her with a wild turmoil darkening his eyes. Even in the moonlit darkness, she could see it. He was that same man he’d been months ago on this same shoreline, but he carried a much heavier weight on his shoulders now. Out here with the endless ocean of black water tinged in white foam attacking and abating along the shoreline, it felt as if she and Dean were the only two people on the planet.

  “Water’s probably freezing. Too cold for swimming.”

  “I didn’t say you had to join me.” With that, Fate dropped his sweater from her shoulders before unbuttoning her dress.

  “Fate. Jesus Christ. It barely hit seventy degrees today. The water is probably more like fifty.”

  “I don’t care. It’s the ocean. Can’t be this close to the ocean and not get in.” She stripped her body bare and strode purposely past him.

  “You’re fucking crazy,” he called out after her.

  As soon as she stepped foot into the frigid ocean, she decided he was probably right. But after months of operating on autopilot, the ice-cold water was invigorating. The deeper she went, the more alive she felt. It tickled between her legs and eased up to her breasts, cold slicing through her as she continued walking. Once she couldn’t take it anymore, she stopped and turned to face him.

  “If you hadn’t stopped me that night, I might’ve walked right into the ocean, Dean. I was seriously thinking about it.”

  She was only a few feet out and could see him shaking his head and removing his pants. “My dick is going to shrivel and fall off, Fate. So when that happens, you’re to blame.”

  She watched him strip and make his way to her. Once he was in reaching distance, she wrapped her shivering body around his much warmer one.

  “Y-you saved me that night, Dean. And I will always be grateful for that. But every time we turn a corner and you throw us into reverse, you hurt me, and part of me wishes we’d never met. Or at least that we hadn’t reconnected after that night.”

  He nodded against the top of her head. “I know. I know and I’m sorry. I owe you an explanation, but I’m having a h
ard time explaining it to myself.”

  “T-try,” she said with chattering teeth.

  “I will. I promise. But first, let’s get you inside. Your lips are blue, baby.”

  “Warm them up, then.” Fate crashed her mouth to his—the primal need to be connected to him overwhelming her. Her hands pulled at his back and then slid into his damp hair. She shivered from the cold, and he held her tighter.

  “You’re freezing, Fate. I’m taking you inside.”

  She nodded, holding tightly to him as he carried her out of the icy, black water and into the house. She didn’t let go until he set her on his bed and wrapped her in dark-blue blanket.

  “I’ll run you a bath. Hang tight.”

  Her body thawed as her mind did. Maybe she was crazy. Maybe she should’ve just called a cab and gone home when he’d walked out on her. But he hadn’t left the crazy shoe-throwing lady alone on the beach and she couldn’t leave him either. Whatever this was, it felt…inevitable.

  His dick was very angry with him. The water had been damn near freezing, yet off they’d gone. But after seeing her bare ass and breasts in the moonlight, he’d only had one option. Follow.

  The bathroom filled with steam as he ran a scorching-hot tub full of water for them both.

  “Just a sec,” Fate called from the kitchen when he stepped into the bedroom to retrieve her.

  When she returned a few seconds later, she had a bottle of champagne and a shiny, black bread plate holding her leftover dessert on it. Her body was exposed and covered in raised gooseflesh.

  “Get in the tub, crazy ass.” Dean held the champagne and plate while she eased in. He lowered himself in across from her and set the bottle on the edge of the tub. “Hungry, were you?”

  Fate smiled as she took the plate from him. “Nearly freezing to death will do that to a girl.”

  The guilt for making her go to such drastic measures to reach him hit him like a fist.

  “Fate, I—”

  “Dean. Wait.” She took a bite of her dessert, thoroughly enjoying it judging from the sounds she made. “Don’t mess up my moment with my torte.”

  He grinned and then opened his mouth when she offered him a bite.

  “See? Chocolate makes everything better.”

  Dean chuckled and pulled her naked, wet body to his. “I don’t know if it can make raging assholes better, but that would be great if it could. Probably save me a lot of apologies.”

  She settled into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder and feeding him another bite of dessert.

  “Don’t apologize. Just tell me why we’re so connected during sex and then you bail. You know this is all new to me, so it’s not like I’m judging you or comparing it to previous experiences.”

  Dean loosened his grip on her before swigging the champagne straight from the bottle. She did the same before they resumed their position.

  “I’d say it was complicated, but it’s really not. When we’re…together, everything makes sense. It’s instinctual. Basic. We meet each other’s needs. But then after…it hits me, you know? The pressure, the expectations. The way I feel about you that says I want more than just sex even though I can’t really offer you that and you’re not asking for it.”

  “Dean—”

  “There’s more, Fate. More than my fucked-up feelings. There’s the risk. I spoke with my father today. He knows…about us. We’re taking a huge risk here. Both of us. And for what?”

  The water swirled around them. Dean waited for her to say something, anything. But she said nothing as she contemplated what he’d revealed.

  The swells of her breasts rose and fell while he watched. His dick stirred, but he did his best to ignore it. They needed to figure this out and not fall back into the habit they were developing of fucking instead of talking.

  Congratulations, you’re a chick, he could hear Keaton saying in his head.

  He sighed and took another long pull from the champagne bottle before handing it to her. “You should know what’s at stake here. My father threatened to fire one or both of us if this gets out of control.”

  “Who says it has to get out of control? Dean, I don’t know what kind of women you’ve been with before me, but I can assure you that I have no interest in costing either of us our jobs.”

  “It’s me, Fate. I’m the one who can’t control myself around you. You saw how I was at the office. I was borderline insane and slightly obsessed. What I just did to you in the kitchen? What I said and how I treated you? That’s what I want to do every day I see you walking through the office. I want to bend you over my desk and fuck you until you can’t walk out. I want own you. But I can’t. Because you’re not a fucking possession. I know that in my rational mind. Problem is, I can’t seem to be rational around you.”

  He was out of breath when he finished. It felt as if he’d peeled back his skin and shown her the very things he knew would make her want to run as fast and far as she could.

  The water swayed in the tub as she turned to face him. She set her now empty plate on the back corner of the tub.

  “I don’t need you to be rational. I just need you to be honest with me. To communicate with me. It’s all very dramatic, the fucking and the running, but I can’t deal with that Dean. I spent several years in a relationship with someone who kept a great deal from me. My mind goes to terrible places when you shut me out, and I get it—that we’re not some cookie-cutter couple with a nice, neat label. But if you are going to fuck me on a somewhat regular basis or even completely at random, then I need to know we’re in this—whatever it is—together and that we’re on the same page. If you need space after sex, well then—take it. If I’d have known you were going to take flight after every encounter, I would’ve brought a book to read.”

  “I spent several years in a relationship with someone who kept a great deal from me.”

  He told himself that it wasn’t his business. It wasn’t. She hadn’t asked about his past. But damn if knowing she’d given some part of her life to another man didn’t rake him raw across the chest.

  He forced a smile. “I will try to stop bailing on you post coitus. I can’t promise I’ll cuddle or, God forbid, fucking spoon you. But I will try not to ditch you. I guess I’ve never thought about what a woman might need after.”

  “Well, a ‘good game’ pat on the ass would be nice,” she mused. “But I’ll take a high five before you go off to do whatever it is you do.”

  “You’re entirely too easy to please, Ms. Buchanan.” Dean leaned forward to kiss her delectable mouth. She tasted of champagne and chocolate and raspberry sauce. Her tongue met his in an erotic dance and his dick stood at full mast beneath the water.

  “Yes, well, it’s all part of my grand plan. Your company will be mine in no time.” She gave a ridiculous-sounding, exaggerated evil-villain laugh and Dean felt his stress and worries evaporating.

  She did that for him, was the first person he’d ever known—besides a woman who’d died when he was a kid—who took away the anxiety and the pressure and reminded him to live in the moment.

  And this is why I’m falling in love you, he thought to himself. And why I will fuck up both of our lives completely.

  Fate sat up in bed and, realizing that she was once again alone, wanted to laugh maniacally. They might have been adults, she and Dean being twenty-two and twenty-six respectively, but when it came to relationships, they were children.

  Sexually, they were each other’s perfect match, but emotionally, she was beginning to accept that they might not be what the other needed. She needed trust and physical closeness aside from sex, and Dean needed space. Always space. He was always pulling away from her when she wanted him the most.

  After having made love in the bathtub—slow, unhurried love, where she’d sat astride him, riding his perfect length in the water until they’d come together—he’d washed her and dried her. She’d basked in the afterglow while he’d put one of his oversized shirts on her, barely bothering to b
utton it.

  “I love you in my shirts,” he’d said softly.

  She’d done her best to ignore the strain the first three words had placed on her heart. But then he’d looked her in the eye and she’d seen something there, something real.

  No matter what they kept telling themselves, she could feel something more than just sex happening. But she was inexperienced enough to wonder if maybe it was just the aftereffects of so many orgasms. Maybe they made you drunk and disoriented.

  It felt like a magic trick, like maybe her body was tricking her into thinking she was falling in love and that he might be too.

  “I have to make a few work calls, but then I’ll come to bed. Promise.”

  He’d promised. He’d left. And she’d fallen asleep and now woken up alone.

  Maybe there was simply no hope.

  Fate was alerted to the full bladder that had woken her. She made her way to the bathroom by the silver slices of moonlight coming in through open plantation shutters on the balcony doors.

  After emptying her bursting bladder, she glanced at her phone. More voicemail notifications—one from Gwen and two from Trevor. But there was one from a number in Dallas that she recognized as her mother’s current residence. She made a mental note to contact the facility at a more appropriate hour and see what they’d needed.

  The digital numbers on her phone informed her that it was 2:26 in the a.m. Fate sighed and padded barefoot to the door. She expected to find Dean on the couch, but what she actually saw made her smile.

  There he sat at the bar, eating cold pasta from a takeout box.

  “Midnight snack?”

  Dean looked startled and slightly sheepish. “We skipped dinner.”

  “That we did.” Fate hopped onto the barstool and stole his fork.

  “Help yourself.”

  “I intend to.”

  He looked even more appetizing than the food, sitting there in only his charcoal-colored boxer briefs.

  After taking a bite of the perfectly al dente pasta with the savory cream sauce, Fate chewed and glanced at the papers Dean had in front of him.