by C. J. Duggan
‘You okay?’ he asked, kissing my forehead and gently peeling my straps from my shoulders. I nodded, perhaps a little too quickly. ‘Yes; I mean, I am, but, I just … I think, maybe … I don’t know.’
Dean stilled. I looked straight ahead, afraid to look up until he gently touched my chin and tilted my head up to look him in the eyes: his serious, questioning eyes.
‘Lexie, you have done this …’
I turned my face away, my eyes blurring. ‘I’m sorry, I just –’ I shook my head. Clasping my shirt together, I ran to the door. What was I thinking? How could I ever be expected to make someone like Dean happy, to be able to give him what he needed when I was just this stupid little girl from the country who knew nothing about anything? I grabbed the handle, flinging it open before Dean had a chance to get in my way as I ran down the hall.
‘Lexie, wait!’ I heard Dean’s footsteps behind me and I had nowhere to go as I reached for the safety of my room but my attempt to close the door was in vain as Dean wedged himself between the door and the frame. It was useless to fight him on this as he forced his way inside, shutting the door behind him.
I sat on the edge of my bed, feeling the tears rise and fall from despair, but most of all, mortification.
‘Lex.’ Dean came to kneel in front of me, leaning to look up into my eyes, now red and teary.
His hands gripped my calves gently. Resting them there was strangely comforting.
I sniffed. ‘Pretty tragic, huh, the last living virgin in Paradise City.’
Dean scoffed, actually scoffed, morphing me from self-pity to anger.
‘Well, I’m glad you think it’s so funny.’
‘You’re right, it’s tragic, you should have lost it years ago with some pimply faced wanker at the back of a footy club who would never speak to you again and tell all his mates about how many times you screamed his name. Yep.’ Dean stood. ‘You really missed out on the Paradise experience.’
I looked up at him, a small smile lining my face. ‘What? No candles?’
Dean shook his head. ‘No candles.’
I looked at Dean for a long moment. His face was like stone, serious and strong, not an ounce of self-pity, or crooning words of how I wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met, or we can wait, wait as long as it took, it didn’t matter. No, Dean was the most real person I had ever met, honest to a fault, but as far as faults went, his was certainly the one I wanted to have in my life.
I stood before him, not nervous, not afraid, not anything other than lost in the moment with Dean, who never spoke, never asked me any questions one way or another; instead, he left it up to me.
‘I want the candles.’
Only then did Dean’s face change, softening into confusion, his eyes ticking over my face in a silent question, a question I beat him to.
As I whispered … ‘Now.’
Chapter Forty-Nine
The room was aglow with a golden twinkling mass of flames placed on every surface of the apartment. I could feel Dean’s eyes on me, waiting for my reaction, other than the beaming smile I was giving.
‘I told you, it’s a giant death trap,’ he said, looking around the apartment.
I laughed, shaking my head. ‘It’s beautiful.’
Perfect.
I didn’t know how to go about this, now that I had gathered myself. It was almost as if the roles were reversed, that Dean was the nervous one now, as I watched him slide and fidget with the tea candles, moving them away from objects of danger. I smiled. He wasn’t the cocksure Dean; this was the uncertain, open Dean I had had glimpses of. I made my way over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it, bouncing up and down, testing the spring action.
‘Yep, this will work,’ I announced, taking great pleasure in Dean doing a double-take my way. ‘So, where do you want me?’ I slapped my thighs, looking at him expectantly.
Dean shook his head, smirking at me. ‘Such a smart-arse.’
I shrugged. ‘You are who you hang with.’
Dean moved the last candle aside, making his way over to me, without breaking eye contact, not once as he came to stand before me. Long gone were my nerves, my self-doubt, replaced by an absolute certainty, a new need that filled me, that had me sliding my hands up Dean’s jean-clad thighs, skimming over the strain of his jeans to flick the top button, and work his zip slowly down, all the while watching his reaction, seeing his Adam’s apple swallow as I edged down the denim, and his briefs, revealing what I wanted, but unlike the dream this time I aimed to torture him, please him, taste him. I took Dean into my mouth, his hands flying into my hair. ‘Lexie,’ he breathed, part groan, part shock as I drew him into the back of my throat, working my hands to build on the extra tension I needed to work him into a blinding pleasure. His fingers hooked into the elastic band holding my hair up, gently tugging it away, dividing the folds of my hair with a loving caress. I could feel the tingly sensation move up my spine as the tension ebbed, building into a new sensation as Dean buried his fists in my hair and guided my rhythm.
‘You better stop, Lex.’ Dean’s voice was hoarse, gravelly and it only encouraged me, to think he was coming undone by something I was doing to him. I took him deeper, hollowing my cheeks and revelling in his laboured breathing. I was ready to take whatever he needed me to, but Dean pulled away, pushing me back onto the bed, peeling off his jeans. I began unbuttoning my top, but not near fast enough as Dean took over and tore apart the fabric, sending buttons flying and rolling across the floor. I giggled at the unexpectedness of it, as Dean worked on unclasping my bra with one flick. ‘I hope those buttons aren’t flammable,’ he said, giving me a wry smile, before lowering his mouth onto my exposed breast, drawing my nipple into his mouth, puckering it into an aching peak before moving to the other. Watching him worship my body, exploring it with his hands and mouth was better than any dream imaginable. Lit by the warm glow of the candlelight, Dean was perfect. How could I have ever been afraid of this, with him?
Dean kissed me, deep, robbing me of my thoughts, stealing all of my breath before tauntingly edging my denim skirt up over my hips and hooking his thumbs into the elastic of my knickers, sliding them down my thighs. He flashed me a wicked smile. ‘Now this is better than any Friday night shift,’ he said, climbing back up my body. I giggled, wrapping my legs around him, drawing him closer, feeling the press of him against my thigh, gasping as he pressed against the most intimate part of me. That’s when I sobered.
There’s no way. He won’t fit.
I blinked. Dean read me better than anyone I’d ever met and thank God he was reading me now, I could tell just by looking into his eyes. He knew I was scared, he could feel my body stiffen, my breaths growing more rapid. He never took his eyes from me. Instead, he watched. Watched me as his hand slid over my breast, over my ribs, ghosting along the softness of my belly and lower, sliding between my thighs and then slowly inside me. He caught my gasp with his mouth, my whimpers muffled as I rocked into his hand, desperately urging him on, until he slid a second finger inside and I spread wider for him, muffling my cries into his shoulder. I didn’t think I could take any more of what he could give, but there was more. He gave me what I needed and he whispered encouraging, brilliantly filthy-sweet words into my neck, lifting me to the brink of madness, a quivering madness where I was begging for him, all of him.
He broke away from me, eliciting a cry of another kind, one of despair as he leant across and grabbed a foil square from his top drawer, tearing it open with his teeth, sheathing himself and climbing back over my body. He was shaking, his heated, excited breaths blowing down on me and without a word, he looked into my eyes, and he knew. Gently, easing at first, he rocked into me, his attention flicked from me to where we met. It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen and with his slow, tender patience he kissed me so passionately, a sweet, beautiful moment, before he thrust one long stroke into me. I gasped, blinking past the pain and the shock of feeling so completely filled. I couldn’t take it, he was going to b
reak me. I bit my lip, steadying myself, but Dean kept calm, even if his eyes said otherwise.
‘You okay?’ he asked with his forehead pressed against mine. I nodded, rocking my hips into him, encouraging him, urging him on. Dean slowly pulled out, and then pushed in gently, over and over, sliding his hand between my legs, urging me on to the point that beyond the pain, I craved the pleasure, demanded it in a series of pleas and whimpers, voicing the words that were even shocking to my own ears. ‘Harder, faster. Please, don’t stop.’
I dug my heels into the mattress, rocking my hips up, losing myself to this new world. My nails were grasping at his back, feeling the corded muscles flex with every thrust. My eyes stung with tears as I felt something grow inside me, felt the edge of something that belonged to both of us.
‘Do you feel me?’ Dean breathed, pushing deeper than before.
‘Don’t stop, please don’t stop,’ I sobbed, feeling rapid fire flickering through me, just like the flickering flames around us. The pleasure mounted and I cried, struggling to hang on as Dean took me to a place beyond any dream, a dream he followed, breathing and kissing me, sweeping the damp tendrils of my hair aside. Our breaths heaving, our skin flushed, our bodies sated.
Dean swallowed. ‘You okay?’
I breathed out a laugh, earning a sceptical brow curve from Dean.
‘What?’
‘Can we do it again?’
Dean laughed, shaking his head. ‘You’ll be the death of me, Lexie Atkinson,’ he said, looking at me with eyes that said so much without the need for words.
I smiled, big and goofy.
Dean’s brows pinched together. ‘What?’
‘I may have taken the long way around, Dean Saville, but I think I have finally found my Paradise.’
Epilogue
Binning the last of our morning coffees, we walked down Arcadia Lane, hand in hand. Dean was silent as he listened intently to my nervous banter about Amanda and Boon and how they had finally got their act together, and how Aunty Karen and Uncle Peter were back home and back to normal. I barely drew breath as he led me around the back of the Wipe Out Bar, afraid that if I stopped talking, the reality would sink in. The only time my words fell away was when I realised Dean had led me into the alleyway, past the skip bins where countless sordid acts had taken place. A nervousness swept over me as I took in where we were. Dean followed my eyeline and laughed.
‘Relax, it’s not my style.’
I blushed, horrified that he knew what I was thinking. He guided me up the back fire escape, allowing me to lead the way all the way to the top, where he delved into his pocket and unlocked the steel door.
‘Why this way?’ I asked.
‘I want to show you something.’
I crossed my arms across my chest, curving my brow. ‘Really?’
Dean laughed, unlocking the door and holding it open for me. ‘Get your mind out of the gutter, Atkinson.’
I grinned, stifling a laugh as I darted inside.
Dean opened the door to his apartment, dropping his keys on a table near the door. He grabbed my hand, leading me to the bed, motioning for me to sit. My eyes lifted to where he stood before me, my heart pounding so fast it was the only thing I was really aware of, that and Dean’s penetrating stare.
‘Close your eyes,’ he said, his voice low and gravelly. I closed them immediately, feeling my stomach twist with excitement, hearing his footsteps move around the room, echoing in the large space. I was aware of my breaths now – in-out, in-out – my hands clasped over my knees with a white-knuckled intensity.
His steps moved again, closing in on me, standing so close in front of me I could almost feel the heat of his body. I blanched, thinking about what I had done in this very same spot the night before.
‘Hold out your hands,’ he said, his voice so damn sexy I bit my lower lip to try and rein in control of my wandering thoughts.
I held them out mid-air, eagerly; they hovered for what felt like an eternity, or long enough for me to speculate. Was it my pay cheque? Another pink box from Paradise Cakes? My hands dipped, mostly from the feel of Dean placing something in my palms. It was light, smooth and not overly cool. I gripped my fingers around it as I tried to guess what it might be.
‘Open your eyes.’
My eyes blinked open, glancing down at what sat in my hands. I met Dean’s amused stare as he finally sat next to me on the edge of the bed.
‘They’re blueprints.’
I unravelled them on my lap, taking in the drawn-up plans for –
My head snapped up. ‘Is this what I think it is?’
‘The new improved Wipe Out Bar.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘I’m going to bring it into the twenty-first century. You see those lines there?’ Dean pointed to the map. ‘Reinforced downpipes.’
I laughed, laughed so hard, Dean had to stop the map from sliding off my lap.
‘Excellent!’
‘There’ll be a lounge area, the bistro will have a complete revamp, as will the pool room and the bar.’
I shook my head, looking over the plans. ‘This is amazing, Dean, it’s going to be a game changer to Arcadia Lane.’
‘The jewel in the crown,’ Dean said, with a sparkle of excitement I hadn’t seen before.
‘Exactly! So what else do I need to know?’ I straightened my spine, looking at the blueprints expectantly.
‘Well, I think you need to know it started with a shark named Hank.’
I cringed, thinking back to how mad he’d been.
Dean shook his head. ‘You’ve brought something into this place, Lexie. You’ve forced me to look at things differently.’
‘I didn’t do much.’
‘You did enough.’
I blushed, knowing that Dean wasn’t a man of many words, so this admission was meaningful to me.
‘So, if you want, I’d really like your help.’
I looked Dean in the eyes, because I wanted him to know that I meant what I said. ‘Anything.’
Dean smirked. ‘Wow, you’ve got it bad.’
I rolled my eyes.
Dean held up his hands. ‘Hey, look, you’re only human.’
I stood, then turned, walking away as he laughed. ‘Goodbye, Dean.’
‘Waaaait a minute,’ he said, reaching out and pulling me towards him. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’ He encircled his arms around me.
‘Maybe I’ve come to my senses,’ I said, lifting my chin.
Dean’s eyes bore into mine, serious and intense. ‘Maybe you should. I mean, I’m moody, bossy, not very charming, not very nice … but …’ He paused.
‘But?’
‘There will be lots and lots of sex.’
Lots of sex with Dean Saville. Yes, I was so on board with that.
‘Well, that’s something that wasn’t mentioned in my job interview.’ I giggled as Dean edged me to the bed and we both tumbled onto it, my laughter filling the apartment until Dean kissed me into a sweet, sweet silence.
C.J. Duggan is the internationally bestselling author of the Summer series who lives with her husband in a rural border town of New South Wales. When she isn’t writing books about swoony boys and ’90s pop culture you’ll find her renovating her hundred-year-old Victorian homestead or annoying her local travel agent for a quote to escape the chaos. Paradise Road, the sequel to Paradise City, is C.J.’s ninth book, and the second in her new series of New Adult romance.
CJDugganbooks.com
twitter.com/CJ_Duggan
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Copyright
Published in Australia and New Zealand in 2015
by Ha
chette Australia
(an imprint of Hachette Australia Pty Limited)
Level 17, 207 Kent Street, Sydney NSW 2000
www.hachette.com.au
Copyright © C.J. Duggan 2015
This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be stored or reproduced by any process without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record of this book is available from the National Library of Australia.
978 0 7336 3389 8
978 0 7336 3388 1 (ebook edition)
Cover design by XOU Creative
Cover photographs courtesy of Corbis
Author photograph by Craig Peihopa
