by Eden Summers
Wow. Just wow.
When he rolled off her and then the bed, she opened her eyes and caught a glimpse of his muscled ass as he walked to her bathroom.
What happened now?
She wasn’t familiar with casual sex protocol. Would he get dressed, then leave? Should she make him coffee? Was she supposed to get dressed?
She drew the sheets over her chest, apprehension coiling in her belly while he used the basin. When he walked back into the room, she tracked his movements to the door.
To the goddamn door.
Panic ran wild in her veins.
He was deserting her already.
But instead of leaving, he flicked off the light and stalked toward the bed.
In the soft glow of the sun’s early rays, she concentrated on the rigid muscles of his stomach. She wondered again if his expression would be cocky, and didn’t dare look. She was sated, enjoying the deep emotions weighing down her chest. She wouldn’t allow herself to ruin the fantasy.
Without acknowledging his clothes, he climbed onto the bed, lifted the sheet, and snuggled into her. His warmth touched every inch of her skin as his chin came to rest on the top of her head, his arms holding her tight so her body molded into his.
“You’re amazing.” He tightened his hold and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
No, he was amazing. And the way he made her feel was even better.
She snuggled further into him, trying to come up with a compliment that suited her mood, but before she could find the words, his breathing changed, telling her he was no longer conscious to hear it.
Chapter 6
Dean had a smile on his face as he stretched his arm across the bed, searching for Beth. Even dazed from sleep he still felt like he was made of awesome.
He had slept with her.
Jesus H. Christ.
He. Had. Slept. With. Her.
All the saints from all the religions wouldn’t dare to throw shade on this out-of-wedlock moment it was that fucking brilliant.
But vacant warm sheets were all that greeted his fingers. No silken skin, no luscious body, just emptiness filled with her intoxicating scent. Damn. He’d planned on delving between those thighs one more time before he let her out of bed.
Opening his eyes, he sat up with a yawn and listened for an indication of where she could be. A vague babble came from downstairs, the television maybe. The sound was too soft to make out. He moved from the bed to investigate, yanked on his boxer briefs and pants, then headed down to find her. By the time he reached the bottom step, he realized the noise wasn’t the damn TV.
What the hell was his father doing here?
He strode through the living room, toward the hall, and the front door. His chest began to pound, jealousy and anger stopping his momentum when he found her standing in a skimpy bathrobe that barely covered her body.
As he moved in behind her, she cut him a quick glance, her eyes wide with panic. She shooed him with her hand and mouthed for him to go away.
Fuck that.
He had to confront his father. To tell him to back off. It may make things uncomfortable for her, especially at work on Monday, but there was no way around it. His father needed to leave her alone.
Positioning himself against the wall, he pulled the door open a little wider, making sure her body remained hidden. The sight of his father made his head throb. Dressed smart as always, his suit pants and crisp shirt were without the slightest wrinkle.
His father’s eyes narrowed before he tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Son.”
“What are you doing here?” Dean asked without preamble, unable to hide his hostility.
Beth squeezed his arm, and he took the gesture as a plea to be civil, but after the morning they’d shared, he couldn’t stand his father being anywhere near her.
Call it jealousy.
Call it juvenile.
He didn’t give a shit.
He wanted the man away from her, not just now—for good. So yeah, working together would be inconvenient.
“I could ask you the same question. I noticed your car in the driveway and assumed Beth had borrowed it to get home. I had hoped you weren’t foolish enough to spend the night.”
Foolish enough? He raised his brows and took a deep breath through his nose, trying to keep his cool. The man could write the book on foolish decisions concerning women.
“And why would spending the night be foolish?”
His father scoffed, then continued to stare at him with a scowl. Dean knew the man was weighing his options. He wouldn’t want to cause a scene in front of Beth. Oh no, Max Sutherland couldn’t appear unprofessional in public.
When Dean was a child, he had been flogged with his father’s belt until he couldn’t walk, all because he threw a tantrum at a function with extended family. He’d been seven at the time, dying for attention from his father. Attention that never came. Not in the way he wanted.
He’d grown up believing his father didn’t mind if their lives fell apart behind the scenes, as long as people weren’t exposed to their dirty laundry.
“You know exactly why being here is inappropriate. You don’t hide your reputation.”
Dean could only blink while his head threatened to explode. He wasn’t sure if the remark about his reputation was for argument’s sake or to remind Beth and gain the upper hand. But his father had no right to judge. At least the women Dean slept with understood his one-night-only rule. He never misled them, never committed to anything but physical gratification.
He clenched his jaw and glared. The man had cheated on Dean’s mother for years, then left her to be with a gold digger half his age. Not to mention how Max rejected his own daughter, forgetting she even existed. Yet Dean was in the wrong? His father was nothing but a hypocrite.
“So what?” Dean spat. “You’re allowed to proposition her like a hooker, but I can’t fuck her unless I offer her money?”
He wanted to shock and inflict pain—and he had. Only he realized too late who he’d really hurt.
Beth gasped and slipped her hand from his arm. Her wide eyes scrutinized him, as if she no longer recognized who he was.
Shit.
He always watched his tongue around Beth. Trust him to pick this most inappropriate time to be a crass bastard.
“Goddamn it, Dean.” His father shook his head in disgust. “After all these years, you still haven’t grown up.”
The disappointment hit him with the force of a sledgehammer, the air leaving his lungs in a huff. At thirty-two years of age he should have overcome the need to please the man he despised. “You don’t even know me.”
“Oh no?” Max’s brows rose. “You go home every weekend with a different woman. You don’t respect them. You don’t care about them. You’re only concerned with yourself. And you make the receptionist screen your calls, for Christ’s sake.” He paused, gaining composure, and turned his attention to Beth. “You don’t deserve his flippant attitude.” He glared back at Dean. “I can’t believe you would be so petty, using Beth like this to get back at me.”
His father didn’t elaborate, letting the words fall like stones. They both knew what he referred to, but he was wrong. This had nothing to do with Jessica, nothing to do with the past. This was about Beth, about sating a hunger he’d let eat away at him for too long. It was about taking a chance with a beautiful woman who he respected and adored.
Dean glanced away, needing to concentrate before he flipped out. Over time he hoped the wealth of hatred he held for his father would dissipate. It hadn’t. He only learned to mask it better and with their issues moving back to the forefront, the animosity began to resurface, bringing the betrayal back in raw, unyielding pain.
He remembered the events with vivid clarity. His mother’s tears, her sobbing wails as her hands shook, craving the medication to take away her heartache. The misery that consumed his younger sister over losing a father who was still alive, and how Dean had to adapt to the role even though he w
as a child himself.
The memories of Jessica still hurt too; however, the woman herself barely rated a mention. He’d once thought he was falling in love with her. Now he knew better. When he’d caught her with his father, all cherished feelings for them both had fled.
His old man sighed and gave another shake of his head. Dean bit his tongue, pressing down until he tasted the coppery tang of blood.
“I’m sorry to cause you all this trouble, Beth,” his father offered. “Please remember what I said earlier.”
Dean was anxious to find out what they’d discussed but kept his mouth shut. Extending the conversation would only make this fucked-up situation worse, and he’d put her through enough already.
She gave a quick nod and remained quiet beside him. Without acknowledging Dean, his father dipped his head in farewell and walked away. Soon after, Beth did the same, turning to move with quick steps down the hall. He waited, needing to make sure his father left.
It wasn’t until the black Mercedes pulled away from the curb and drove out of sight that he slammed the front door. The sound vibrated off the walls, piercing his ears, adding to the fury boiling inside him.
He wanted to yell.
He wanted to punch something.
Hell, he would settle for a stiff drink, but right now he had to fix this mess.
He stormed through the silent living room, past the kitchen, scanning each in search of her. Taking the stairs three at a time, he stalked down the hall and to her bedroom.
Apprehension tightened his chest as he approached her door. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d argued with a lover—apart from Jessica—and he didn’t know what to expect.
Beth had a kind heart and he couldn’t imagine her lashing out, but angry women were temperamental. One minute they smiled, proclaiming nothing was wrong, the next your dick was in a blender with their finger hovering over the On switch.
He leaned on the outside of the door frame, deciding to watch her for a moment. He wasn’t a chickenshit; he held back to give her space. And if that time allowed him to determine if she held any sharp objects, it would be all the better.
Tracking her movements, her body now dressed in a loose T-shirt and tiny sweat shorts, he figured the guilt stabbing under his ribs couldn’t be worse than any physical pain she could inflict.
“I’m sorry.” He took the first step into the room.
Her spine stiffened, and she turned her neck to peer at him over her shoulder, his shirt in her hands. Her expression didn’t portray any emotion, no anger, no frustration, no betrayal. Only the faintest hint of sadness in her eyes. She masked her feelings under a cool facade and walked over to hand him the shirt without making eye contact.
“Nothing to be sorry for.” She turned and busied herself making the bed. “I understand. It was just sex. I may not be known for sleeping around, but I’m not naive. I realize you’re a player, and I slept with you anyway.”
He cringed.
He’d never had a problem with his reputation before, but hearing the words from her lips made him feel less than worthy. He wanted to be good enough for her, someone she could be proud of. Not the sleazy womanizer the guys at work loved to congratulate.
“Beth.” He stepped closer. Her eyes would tell him exactly how she felt, how bad he’d hurt her. He just needed her to lift her deliberately downcast gaze.
“Look at me.” He held his breath while she turned to focus on him through dark lashes. Her chin may be high, but he took the time to notice the little things she couldn’t hide. The way her throat convulsed with a swallow. How her lips pressed together in contained emotion.
“Don’t do this,” he pleaded, but she glanced away.
He stepped forward, needing to provide comfort, to touch her, to make sure he hadn’t lost her already. Placing his shirt on the bed, he took the final step that separated them.
“This wasn’t casual for me.” He reached up to run his thumb over her cheek. The words weren’t a declaration of love, and still, they were monumental for him. He hadn’t put himself in a vulnerable position since Jessica, and going out on a limb was scary as shit.
Silence reigned as he willed Beth to really look at him. “I didn’t think before I opened my mouth. I wanted to hurt my father, not you. I know that doesn’t excuse what I said, but…”
He didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t known for apologies. He rarely made mistakes, so he never needed to use them.
“I’m fine with the impulsive sex, or one-night stand, or whatever you want to call it, Dean. What I don’t appreciate is being used to get back at your father.”
He tilted his head, putting his face in her line of vision, and swallowed awkwardly at the glassy sheen in her eyes. “Beth…” Christ, this was hard. “This thing between us has nothing to do with my father. It’s about me and you. I have issues with my old man that will never be resolved, but I would never use you.”
He swore and tried to search for the words to convince her. “I don’t want this to be casual. I’ve cared about you for a long time, and I know you know that. Please just give me a chance to make it up to you.”
He needed to make her understand without scaring the shit out of her. He needed to prove it to her, but how?
“Spend the weekend with me,” he blurted, the sudden epiphany seeming like an exceptional idea.
“No way.” Her reply was immediate, adamant, and punctuated with a shake of her head.
He couldn’t hold back the chuckle that burst free. He got a kick out of the ease in which she turned him down. “Spend the day with me,” he counter-offered, this time boosting the effect with his trademark smile and dimples.
She continued to shake her head. “No. You need to go.” She reached for his shirt and pushed it to his chest.
Ignoring her, he stepped closer, their toes touching, his clothes now squashed between them. “I want to stay. I want to spend more time with you.”
She regarded him as if he were dim-witted. “No.”
Determination sparked in her eyes as she gave him a push back. His feet didn’t move and she huffed in frustration, but stayed in place. She was caving. If she didn’t want him here, she would’ve walked away by now. But here she stood, looking at him with defiance, trying to stare him down as his smile grew.
Who would back down first?
He grabbed his shirt from her hand and let it fall to the floor, hoping to tempt her with an unrestricted display of skin. He didn’t bother to take note of where the material fell, instead concentrating on the way she clamped her lips tighter, trying to hold back the smile he could see in her eyes.
She raised her brows and finally stepped back. “Well, have fun driving home half naked.”
A stronger man would have let her leave, grabbed his shirt from the floor, and given her space. But she made him weak and needy in the hottest possible way. He’d had a taste of her, and now he burned for more. He needed to put his hands on her, to take advantage of her feistiness and sate his will to stroke her delicate skin.
He captured her by the waist, spinning her without effort. She let out a gasp, then a high-pitched squeal as he gracelessly threw her onto the bed.
Her body bounced from the impact, hair, legs, and arms flying in different directions. She righted herself, hastily moving on her knees to glare at him, while he regarded her with predatory intent.
They fought to stare each other down, her posture changing to a prepared stance, as if he would pounce on her at any moment. Then her focus strayed, moving down his bare chest to his groin and the member of his anatomy that wanted to wave to her with enthusiasm.
“Oh no.” Her eyes shot back to his, a slight blush reddening her cheeks. She shook her head with determination. “I’m not sleeping with you again.”
Really?
He wasn’t convinced. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day soon he would make sure they made love again. “I didn’t ask you to. I only asked you to spend the day with me.”
/> “Well, your little friend is voicing his own demands.” She pointed her index finger at the bulge in his pants.
He smiled at her words and the breathy way they left her lips. “Little friend?” The blush on her cheeks darkened. “I didn’t hear you complaining about his size earlier?”
She puffed out her chest, pretending to be fed up, and backed off the bed. “If you think I’m going to help inflate that oversize ego of yours, you can think again.” She shooed him away with a flick of her wrist, a faint smile tilting the corners of her lips.
As she walked past, he grabbed her hand, entwining his fingers with hers and squeezing ever so gently. If playful teasing wouldn’t work, he would take another route.
He let the humor fall away from his expression, replacing it with a heartfelt seriousness he hoped she believed. “Please, Beth. Let me spend the day with you.”
Chapter 7
Dean’s fingers encased her wrist. The delicate hold ceased her movements and stopped her heartbeat altogether. Although he liked to play tough the majority of the time, the torment in his eyes made her acknowledge that maybe he was hurting, too.
The words he’d used with his father earlier had left her feeling cheap and dirty. He had rarely sworn in front of her. So the abrupt change in persona had hit with the force of a physical blow. Nevertheless, she accepted his apology and tried to convince herself he hadn’t meant to hurt her.
Her forgiveness didn’t mean she should spend the day with him though.
She could already feel the rapid beat of her pulse under the press of his fingers. More time with him would be a mistake, a supersized, colossal mistake.
The whole day together would only ensure more damage to her heart when things ended. Still she found herself wanting to agree. Then before she knew it, she had opened her mouth. “No sex.”
He jerked his head in surprise, or maybe he was insulted by the stipulation. He would probably renege on his plans if bumping uglies wasn’t involved. She began to think he was about to reject her terms when his face brightened with smug satisfaction.
