The Reward

by Jade A. Waters

  I swallowed hard. “That’s what he heard?”

  “I guess so. He was a little irate, so I was trying to get what he was saying. Assuming that was it, out of context, that doesn’t sound great.”

  My stomach turned. Crap. “And then the wedding...?”

  “He saw us in the hall.”

  I thought back to how Dean and I had stolen a moment there, and how I’d thought someone had been there for a second and had worried how they might take our brief yet rough encounter.

  If Ryan had already been misinterpreting and fired up before that, it would be easy to see whatever he wanted to see.

  “So he interpreted that into you being an abuser,” I said, even more frustrated. How do you not see that he’s just like Charlie? Wow. That’s what Ryan had twisted up in his head? “What did he say to you?”

  “I’m not going to get into details, okay?”

  “But this is why he thinks you’re like Charlie.”

  “Yes. And he let me know that if I hurt you, he’d come after me.”

  I frowned. This explained so much, from the crap he’d said at dinner to his ridiculousness on the way to the airport. “Dammit. He’s being protective, but—”

  “I know.” Dean kissed my forehead, and we stared into one another’s eyes for a second. Dean seemed to think about it all before he continued. “It wasn’t my place to tell him what it really meant, but he asked me not to say anything and I didn’t, because like I said, I don’t want to get in the middle of you and your brother. You two are close.”

  “Yeah, except he’s way off on this. And then of course, he lost it at dinner.” I sighed and brought the heels of my palms up to rub my eyes. Of course Ryan had flown off the handle over his interpretation. How wouldn’t he? I slid my hands off my face and clenched them in the tight space between us, and Dean’s eyes flared with worry. “I’m sorry he threatened you. Ryan was always protective, but I think it’s heightened because I met Charlie through him.”

  “That’s the connection?”

  “Yes.”

  “They were friends?”

  “Not exactly.” I explained how it’d gone down all those years ago, and Dean listened, clueing in to how Ryan had grown extra cautious and in turn had overreacted to something I didn’t know that I needed or should have to explain to him. “So he’s got some guilt going there, though he doesn’t need to. I make my own choices,” I concluded.

  Dean lifted his fingers to run them through my hair. “That you do.”

  I caught his hand, pressing it against the side of my face while I thought.

  “I’m sorry I kept it from you,” he said.

  “I’m glad you at least told me now. But please don’t shield me from stuff. That’s not fair.” I gulped after he nodded. “I get it, though. I’ve seen him in action. He’s convincing when he wants to be. You aren’t the first boyfriend he’s tried to scare.” Dean released a low chuckle before I added, “I’ll talk to him.”

  “He loves you. That’s important.”

  “I know, and it is. I just wish he understood. Though he doesn’t need to know, either. I like that it’s special between us. It’s our thing.”

  Dean curved his hand around my waist, putting the slightest pressure on my low back. “Our thing,” he repeated.

  “Yes. It’s us.” I bucked my hips up, a grin spreading over my face. “Which we should have more of, right now.”

  “Really?” Dean’s smile lit up his eyes, and I gazed into them, entranced by both the glisten of those slate-gray irises and the depth of love I could see within them.

  I gave the ties of his athletic pants a tug and bit my lip. “Yes, really. Maybe we should go upstairs.”

  “Why upstairs, if I have you here?” Dean slid his hand firmly up my back, resting it between my shoulder blades and kissing first my neck, then the highest part of my cheek, near my ear. The brush of the stubble on his cheek hit at the right angle to tickle my skin, and I squealed.

  “But you’ve made us such a nice play room, and you were gone for so long, we should use it. It’s barely been broken in.”

  Dean’s mouth was hot on my ear, and he trailed his fingers down my side and between us while keeping his chest and hips to mine. When he spoke, his voice had that sexy, husky sound I lusted after. “Not just yet. I don’t think that’s what you need.”

  He couldn’t see the subtle frown I made over his head. The sweet weekend had been divine, but our thing was what I craved, the playroom a perfect excuse. Dean was excellent at knowing exactly what I needed, but at the moment, I didn’t know that I agreed with him. I’d been daydreaming of him tying me up for the better part of our couch recline before the damn phone had rung—but who was I to complain about soft, distracting pecks on my neck and the playful way he started tugging up my T-shirt to layer kisses over my breasts? He shuffled me around until I lay on my back and he rested atop me, his mouth covering my nipple. He sucked it between his lips and snuck a hand straight down beneath my lounge pants. I hadn’t bothered with underwear after our shower and neither had he, so his fingers easily settled against my folds, and I was well aware of the thickness of his cock, pressed against my thigh like it was. I gasped at his touch and closed my eyes, and Dean whispered between his kisses of one nipple, then the other.

  “I love you, beautiful, beautiful Maya. Everything about you.”

  Greedily, I wrestled my hand under his pants and circled his shaft with my fingers. Dean groaned, his teeth closing on my nipple when I murmured, “I love you, too.”

  For a while we made out like this, Dean’s fingers sinking inside my pussy in slow, deep glides, and his lips kissing my breasts as I stroked him root to tip. Our frenzied breathing wound me up, making me want more, for him to hold me down and take from me like I loved for him to do. More than anything, I needed that. But Dean seemed intent on keeping it gentle. It drove me nuts, but then again, the lazy circles he traced around my clit felt incredible. So did the drive of his fingers again. I loved succumbing to him, seeing where he would take it, and I hoped he’d turn on that dark, dominant edge soon. Dean kept working his fingers in me until he was good and ready. He wrestled my pants down my hips to meet the tops of my thighs, then freed his cock and slipped it inside me. I sighed at how deep he sank and the weight of his body over me on the couch, and I lifted my arms up above my head and clasped them together, biting at his chin in an attempt to provoke him. I wanted him to grab onto me harder, or pin me in place.

  But he didn’t.

  “Maya,” he moaned. His eyes were closed, his knuckles digging into the couch cushions beside my hips when he thrust inside.

  “Yes.” I whimpered and clamped my mouth on his chest, sucking at his skin. “Yes, yes...more...”

  “God.” Dean pressed his mouth to my forehead and reached down to sweep his thumb over my clit. His touch was tremendous. He knew just how to work me up, and I quivered against him. I loved it, but I made a show of clenching my fingers harder together and arched up my chest, needing him to play along. Dean’s response was to open his eyes to say, “I’ll take care of you. Always.”

  I’d be an idiot to protest that, wouldn’t I?

  Softly, sweetly, he kissed me, his thumb stirring up the heat in my core and the deep drives of his cock revving me up. I shifted my hips, and even slow like this, I felt the wave of pleasure creeping in, a tentative rumble that soon racked me with sensation at the drive of his next thrust. I bit his chest again, and he pressed faster, burying his face in my hair as his pants turned to moans that matched my own.

  “Yes. Fuck...” I urged.

  Dean plowed all the way in, staying deep and staring into my face before I clenched my eyes shut and came. The feel of him inside while I spasmed around him drove me wild, but he still wouldn’t move. He kept the pressure of his thumb tight on my clit, cir
cling it round and around until I grew jumpy in my after-state. When I opened my eyes and pleaded, he shook his head no.

  “But you didn’t—”

  “I don’t need to. Not this minute.” He picked up the pace of his thumb again and stayed rooted in me. “I want to take care of you. You’re the most important thing...”

  I was caught in the swell of another orgasm tumbling through my body, this one a steadily building promise with the press of Dean’s thumb against my clit. A few seconds later, the television show host’s description of granite countertops and steel sinks was drowned out by the heavy sound of my cries.

  Chapter Twelve

  Thursday afternoon, Maddie drummed her fingers on the top of the café table while I perused my menu for an unusual stretch of time.

  “What’s going on over there?”

  I peered at her over the top of the laminated beige paper. “Why?”

  She splayed her hands. “Since when do you look at the menu? We’re here all the time.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, dropping it to the table. One of our regular waiters took this as his cue to come over, looking as surprised as Maddie that I’d asked the hostess for a menu in the first place. We’d hit our favorite café three blocks from work, but for some reason I’d been antsy all morning. After I asked the waiter which was better of two items I’d never ordered before, he wandered off with my request for him to surprise me and I leaned onto my elbow. “Change is good.”

  Maddie pinched her lips before folding her arms and tilting forward. “How are you feeling with everything?”

  “Everything...?”

  “Um, everything,” she said, gesturing around with a forced cough. “You left the apartment you loved, you moved in with your man.” She grimaced. “You had a dramatic run-in with your scary-ass ex.”

  I yanked my shoulders up to my ears. “Ack. Don’t remind me.”

  The weekend with Dean had almost taken my mind off it. Focusing on running into Charlie would do no good, but periodically, Dean had started asking questions. Did I know if Charlie would leave town, and if not, where might he be? Did Dean need to worry? Was there any chance I might run into Charlie again? The single answer I had to every question was I don’t know. I seriously didn’t. I’d moved a few times since Charlie and I had broken up, and though he’d known I worked at WOFC and I’d never bothered to privately list my address, I’d moved in with Dean in a different city. Everything should be fine.

  Maddie said, “It’s normal to feel shaken up over that. You know that. We deal with this all the time.”

  “Yes, I do know that.” I sipped my iced tea. “But I don’t want to waste the brain space. What good does that do? It’s like freaking out over the unknown. Worrying is useless.”

  “Right. Because I’ve never seen you worry over anything before.” She accompanied her facetious comment with a jab at the back of my hand, and I almost smiled. Of course Maddie was on to me and recognized the layers of frustration burdening my head, regardless of my claims otherwise. “Either way, it’s normal. Get it out. That shit is scary.” She feigned a shiver. “I’m still sorry you saw him. And that he thought he stood a chance! God, what is it with men these days?”

  “Yeah.” I darted my eyes away to glance around the café we frequented often. We’d skipped out of work in advance of the lunch hour like we normally did to avoid the crowd, and as usual, the place was jamming up. When I peered back, Maddie watched me with a face I interpreted well from my own experience counseling victimized women. “I want it all to go away. I want Dean to stop worrying, too.”

  “Is he? Worrying?”

  I lifted my head in an exasperated nod. “Yes. He’s trying not to bring it up, but it keeps coming up.” I clasped my hands together, stabbing my thumb into the palm of my other hand, because the rest of the weekend’s problem rose up in my head: despite my best efforts, Dean had continued on his gentle streak throughout the weekend. Even en route to bed Sunday night, when I’d attempted to lead us toward the playroom for a good old-fashioned rough and bound-up fuck, Dean had redirected me to our bedroom. There, he’d insisted we curl up under our thick down comforter for a round of “cuddly sex.”

  It’d been sweet, and I couldn’t fault him for that.

  But it wasn’t us. Not all goddamn weekend long.

  I met Maddie’s eyes and continued. “And, I don’t know if it’s my imagination or what, but he’s being, like, gentle with me...? He’s trying to cover it, but I feel like he’s treating me with kid gloves.”

  “Hmm.” Maddie knew pretty much everything about Dean’s and my dynamic, though I’d tapered the information down over the last year, since it’d felt like it should be more private the closer Dean and I became. But she understood the way we played and had encouraged it from the start what with her own past experiences. “You don’t like it.”

  “No, that’s not it. I love his sweetness, I always do, don’t get me wrong. It’s...I don’t know. He keeps telling me I’m strong and he knows I’ll be okay, and that he knows I actually am okay, but I keep picking up this vibe like he doesn’t want to overstep and push too hard. Like I’m fragile or something. Does that make sense?”

  “It does,” she said with a bob of her head. “Did you say anything?”

  “Not yet. We’re also in that nesting stage. I figure we’re adjusting. Maybe?” I grumbled and unfolded my napkin over my lap. “I’m feeling—” I waved my hands at my sides “—cooped up? We have no official reason to go out since we’re not meeting halfway anymore, but we’ve been inside every night, cuddled up, being mushy.” I held up a finger. “To be clear, I love his mushy moments. But you know how we do things. He decided to put it on hold or something, all by himself.”

  “He’s trying to protect you.”

  “Yes.”

  “In an attempt to keep you safe.”

  I huffed out a breath. It was true and yet so frustrating, weighting my heart. This wasn’t how Dean and I were supposed to operate. We’d been all over this dynamic from day one. “Yes,” I said, determined. “Yes! But dammit, I’m not breakable!” This I said too loud, instantly clapping my hand over my mouth. A woman at a nearby table eyed me, and I blocked my face from her with a hand extended off my forehead and pitched closer to Maddie. She was already chuckling, but I gritted my teeth and dropped my voice low. “For God’s sake, tie me up and smack me around already!”

  Maddie lowered her face into her arms, her body shaking with the laughter she tried to conceal. She raised her head again to shift it back and forth. “Sounds to me like you know what you want and what you need to say.” I groaned before she leaned toward me. “And be grateful he loves you so much, too.”

  “I am!”

  “I know you are. I’m just saying, you two have something special. You’re compromising and learning to live together, and he’s going to take care of you. Period. Don’t be too hard on him.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Are you telling me to be delicate when I tell him?”

  “No. Not at all. I think you should show him,” she said, lowering her voice to a seductive purr. “They love that.”

  “Oh my God. I swear you need to put out an ad or something. ‘Maddie, the Man Whisperer.’”

  “I should!” she confirmed. She winked right as our waiter arrived bearing her traditional chicken salad and my blackened chicken and chili sandwich. We thanked him, and Maddie handed over her credit card to pay this time. As I examined my meal and grabbed a fry, I wrinkled my nose.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about this dish.”

  “Jesus,” she uttered.

  * * *

  After Maddie and I finished lunch, we had to hurry out of the café, having taken a little too long to get in gear once we’d paid the check—but we’d gotten caught up in a strategizing session for how I might be
able to move things back to normal with Dean, which carried us almost the full distance back to WOFC.

  That was, until Maddie’s second lemonade had kicked in, and she’d encouraged me to move faster so she could hit the office restroom. Our scurry shifted us into mindless chatter, particularly when a billboard across the street for a superhero movie got Maddie rambling over a longtime fantasy she had of one day convincing Henry to don a costume and ravish her while Timothy was napping.

  “Admit it,” she said, tugging open the door to our lobby and pausing to grin at me like a horny teenaged girl, “it’s a hot fantasy!”

  “Maybe. Depends on which superhero.”

  “Oh, stop.” She blew my comment off with a tsk before striding through the door, already deep in the lobby as she said something about needing to go too badly to argue with my pickiness.

  “I’m not pic—”

  “Hey, Maya.”

  I froze, my hand outstretched to catch the door handle that Maddie hadn’t released more than five seconds before. When the door banged shut and rattled the jamb, shutting me outside, a chill rushed through my veins.

  “Can we please talk? I’ve been trying to talk to you.”

  That voice told me I should go inside, not turn around and face the man I realized stood behind me, his presence making every hair on my body stand up in a trepidatious wave. But I whipped around to find Charlie standing a few steps away, his hands shoved in his pockets and his hair a mess, like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. Under the sun above, the light blue of his eyes appeared see-through and soft. He looked soft, his shoulders sloped, his entire body posed in a slump. That wasn’t right. Charlie had never been soft.

  Only when he’d been pretending.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. Instinct had told me to go inside, a fleet of memories warning me no good could come of talking to him, but why was he here? Why was he at my work? He had no business visiting here, and if he was going to keep trying to find me...