by Eden Summers
He had no plan to fuck that up with another drunken moment.
“Beth, you’re extremely inebriated—”
She laughed, the feminine sound tickling his skin and shooting his arousal into dangerous territory. “Extremely inebriated? Seriously Dean, who talks like that?”
He bit back a growl, hating the need to be the responsible one. “I do, when I’m trying damn hard not to take advantage of a friend while she’s drunk.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. He glanced away before she replied, occupying himself by making sure she was steady on her feet. Convinced she wouldn’t fall, he stepped away to open the car door, moving with a speed Superman would envy.
“Get in.” His tone was harsh, the devil on his shoulder poking him so hard he wanted to punch his fist through the car window. Just kiss her. Fist those silky locks. Tame that sassy mouth with your own.
Mindless, Dean helped her into the car, fixing the seat belt in place as if she were a child while trying not to touch her. Once she was settled he closed the door, turned his back on the car and tried to pull himself together.
Breathe, just fucking breathe.
Beth was drunk, for God’s sake. He wasn’t a horny teenager; he could handle his dick. It also wasn’t the best time for his moral compass to finally make an appearance in his life. He didn’t do morals. He did easy women, and the easy women he spent time with didn’t know the meaning of morals. He had his father to thank for that. The old man ruined his opinion on the opposite sex, not to mention his outlook on love and all that cuddly, emotional shit—until Beth.
He’d never wanted a woman as much as he craved her. Since his father had awakened him to the bite of female betrayal, there hadn’t been a pull stronger than sexual attraction for any of the women he slept with, and he knew what he felt for Beth was a hell of a lot more. She made him second-guess his opinion of love, made him want something he wasn’t sure existed.
Unable to put off the inevitable, he walked around the car and paused at the driver’s side door. He took one last calming breath and begged for his cock to settle down, then yanked the car door open and sat down. Without a word, he belted up and was instantly hit by the smell of her perfume. Bloody hell. He would need to breathe through his mouth or the intoxicating scent would drag him under.
He could do this. He could do this. He could fucking do this.
Dean was in control. He could get Beth home without defiling her. No problem. He would drive her straight there, do the gentlemanly thing and help her inside. Then he would leave, hotfoot it to his house, and spend the rest of the night trying to kill the ache in his groin.
“Where am I heading?” He followed her movements through the corner of his eye. She turned to face him, her head resting lazily against the leather. Her voice was sultry when she relayed the address. As Dean programmed the details into his GPS, he gave the buttons a hammering and his mind wandered to places where her lush lips took a detailed adventure along his cock.
He wanted to sob like a little girl at the injustice of the situation. Beth drunk and willing in his car, and he had to ruin it by taking the high road. He tightened his hands on the steering wheel and watched his knuckles drain of color. This couldn’t be happening.
After cranking the engine, he fisted the car into reverse and backed out, trying to outrun his desire. He would be fine; he just needed to keep himself occupied. When he arrived home, he would relax with a few beers, enjoy some adult entertainment to numb the images of Beth in his brain, and have a one-on-one session with his five-fingered friend.
Fuck. He hadn’t needed to jerk off this bad in years.
Chapter Three
Beth shamelessly stared at Dean the entire trip home. She memorized the way taut muscles ticked across his jaw, how his strong, tanned hands gripped the steering wheel, the deep breaths expanding his broad chest, and the major tent action in his pants. His tentage was damn impressive. The elevation alone could shelter a family of five.
She continued to stare, imagining the size, the taste, the texture… She needed to retrieve her mind from the gutter before she started to drool. Oral sex had never been her forte. Right now, though, the desire to take him in her mouth, to lick and suck and savor until he climaxed down the back of her throat made her core clench. She needed to regroup; she wasn’t that drunk.
“What number is it?”
Beth looked up from his crotch and came into immediate eye contact with a frowning, jaw-clenching Dean. Busted. Her mouth dried as his eyes narrowed, piercing her with disapproval. She glanced away, occupying herself by trying to find her keys in the bottom of her handbag. The hypocritical action hadn’t been lost on her either. At least she felt remorse, unlike the bartender… Well, OK, she wasn’t entirely remorseful, but she never claimed to be a saint.
“Are we here already?” Her voice was too chipper as she searched her bag, pretending she hadn’t been caught visually violating him.
“Yes.” The word contained an aggressive undertone. She wasn’t sure if he was hostile over having to drive her home or because of the eye molesting.
“It’s number nineteen. The one with the white mailbox.”
She found her keys, but continued to keep her sight diverted. If she glanced between his legs one more time, she would probably giggle like a little girl. She focused her attention on the quiet tree-lined street, the girls playing hopscotch on the footpath, the boys tackling each other in a game of soccer, instead of the tower of temptation demanding her attention. Maybe she should invite him inside. Beth just wasn’t sure if the “wanna come in for coffee?” line would be asking for trouble. She’d never asked a guy before and didn’t really understand the innuendo behind it.
Her thoughts sharpened, giving her the clarity to realize any innuendo would be a bad idea, especially after the eye molesting. But she didn’t want Dean to leave yet. Even grumpy as hell, he still caused her pulse to race. She wanted to stare at him a little longer, to give “drunk Beth” free rein to ogle instead of ignoring her feelings like her prim and proper side insisted.
“Nice digs.”
Her heart gave a flutter at the compliment. Some people spent their time and money on children, pets, or hobbies. Beth gave all she had to her townhouse. Originally the inside space had seemed too big for someone living alone, but her parents and out of town friends used the extra space when they traveled long distances to visit. It also helped that she didn’t have an interest in going clubbing and drinking every weekend, preferring to spend her money on renovating.
Her home was her sanctuary, the place she felt safe and secure in since moving to Melbourne. Each room was decorated to suit her personality, from the feature walls to the furniture. Hours upon hours of hard work had been spent making the front yard into a manicured masterpiece. She was definitely proud of her little piece of the world.
“Do you want to come in?” OK, that came out a little too quick. At least she hadn’t mentioned coffee.
Dean continued to stare straight ahead. “I’ll make sure you get settled, but I won’t stay. I should head back to the office and finish up a few things.”
She glanced at her watch. Oh yeah, work, where she should still be for the next twenty-five minutes. The reminder hit her with another barrage of nasty images of Max in expensive, old-man underwear, the pictures firmly nailing themselves onto the walls of her mind.
Grabbing her handbag, Beth climbed out of the car. She moved with intoxicated grace, navigating the few steps to her front door with more finesse than her walk through the city streets. Dean followed right behind her and silently stood by while she unlocked the door. His presence sent an inviting tingle along her skin, and her brain lost focus.
Halfway down the hall it kicked back in, and she stopped abruptly, turned, and slammed directly into Dean’s chest. The air left her lungs, her vision shorting for the briefest of moments as she started to fall back. Before her ass hit the floor, his arms were around her, pulling their bodies
firmly together.
Wow. Beth couldn’t get away from him this afternoon. Divine intervention seemed to be playing a part in trying to bring them together. She sure as hell didn’t mind. However, she was a little disappointed her memories of his body hadn’t done him justice. All those nights fantasizing of smooth skin, strong hands, and intoxicating scents didn’t include a fraction of the appeal she currently rubbed up against. He was all hard, hot, and radiating testosterone. The proximity made her insides melt and palms sweat.
“I left the keys in the front door.” She couldn’t find anything else to say. His gaze cut into her, dark and full of menace, while his arms held her tight. He merely jiggled the keys in his hand from the position behind her back.
Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline making her chest pound or the alcohol speeding through her veins; either way she didn’t falter. She didn’t allow herself time to think as she stood on tiptoe and placed her mouth against his. Lust hit her like a wave and she welcomed the heat of his breath and the strength of his arms that tightened around her.
Flattening her hands on the hard mounds of his pecs, she fought the urge to dig her fingernails into his flesh. She restrained herself, not wanting to go too fast, needing to keep the kiss soft and slow. She wanted to savor every scorching, heart-palpitating movement of their lips, to drown in his masculine scent, to be consumed by the pleasure of contentment. It was perfect. The delicate caress, the unity of chest against chest, the nervous way her belly flipped and tumbled…for all of about thirty seconds before his arms fell and he stepped back.
Total…buzz…kill.
A crease marred his brow and he raked a hand through his hair. “Beth.” His tone was ominous, making her cringe in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, but—”
Frustrated at her stupidity, she threw up her hand. She didn’t need him to be the voice of reason or to point out her idiocy. Without a word she turned and walked away. Beth couldn’t believe she’d been stupid enough to throw herself at the one man she vowed never to become involved with. And he rejected her! Jackass.
“No, I’m the one that’s sorry. That was stupid of me.” She continued to walk down the hall. “You can let yourself out.” It took a few more steps in full-blown tipsy-tantrum mode before her mind caught up. “Oh wait.” She turned back to face him. “I need my keys.”
The bastard smiled at her. He wore the same devilish grin he used when playfully making fun of her at work. It didn’t take more than two brain cells to realize he was laughing his ass off on the inside. “You know, I’ve never seen you this drunk before.” His mouth twitched. “I kinda like it.”
“You kinda like it?” Beth raised her hands to her hips, the annoyance more than evident in her voice. “Yeah, you like it enough to have an erection the whole ride home, but not enough to kiss me back.”
Oh Christ. She just used the word erection in front of Dean Sutherland. Monday was going to be a bitch. Her cheeks heated in a mix of embarrassment and anger. She was overreacting. They both knew it. Too bad she couldn’t stop herself. The way he stood, with his chin arrogantly high and the smug taunting smile, ate away at her, poking her closer toward the cliff’s edge.
“It’s OK though. It's selfish to expect more than one impressive Sutherland man to desire me, and your dad already voiced his interest.”
Utter silence filled the air with tension and her heart began to race for a completely different reason. She’d gone too far.
Dean’s face fell; the sudden change in his expression was enough to make her throat tight. The blood drained from her head and she cursed her childishness. Not only had she stepped on the imaginary line, but she’d jumped over it, never to return. She couldn’t work out why she was being emotional and immature. This wasn’t like her at all.
Beth swallowed the lump in her throat and took one last glance at Dean, noting his frown and the way his eyes focused on nothing, as if deep in thought. Too scared to face the heat, she turned and rushed up the hall. “Please, just leave the keys on the floor on your way out.”
Tears stung her eyes. Tears which had a lot to do with sleep deprivation, stress, and the ever-annoying amount of alcohol. It had nothing to do with his rejection. Nothing whatsoever.
She walked into the living room, placed her handbag on the nearest recliner, and leaned against it as she removed her shoes. Undoing the straps, Beth listened intently for Dean’s retreating footsteps. She waited for the sound of the door to open and close, praying he would leave so she could have an emotional breakdown in private.
“Beth!” Dean’s menacing voice reverberated down the hall, followed by loud approaching footfalls. In seconds he was behind her, stopping her sudden attempt to flee with a hand around her upper arm. “What the fuck does that mean?” His anger made her want to pull away. Instead of running she stood her ground and tilted her chin in defiance as she turned to face him. “You’re sleeping with my father?”
Jerking back with a gasp, Beth wondered why the hell he cared. Two minutes ago he wasn’t interested in her at all.
“That’s none of your business.” She gave a halfhearted attempt to yank her arm free. His grip was unyielding, and he moved closer, hovering over her. Pain filled the dark depths of his eyes, his brow creasing in confusion. She had to look away.
“Like hell it’s not.” He leaned over to growl in her ear. “I’ve waited patiently for over a year to get you in my arms.” He punctuated his words with a light squeeze of hers. “A fucking year, and now, when you’re too damn drunk and too damn emotional to think straight, you finally decide you want something from me? What’s going on? And what does all this have to do with my father?”
A rush of air left her lungs and her head snapped back so she could stare at him. Her mouth opened, a truckload of questions sitting on the tip of her tongue, yet nothing came out.
Dean’s nostrils flared and he broke eye contact. Silent moments passed as he gained composure, loosening the grip on her arm before he glared back at her. “Are you sleeping with him?” Defeat etched his words and settled in his eyes.
“No.” She shook her head to reiterate. It seemed absurd to be asked such a laughable question, but Dean was intent on her answer, his eyes searching hers, peering into her soul for confirmation. “I’m not sleeping with him.”
“But he asked you.” Dean hadn’t asked a question. He knew.
Needing to soothe his blatant frustration, Beth answered anyway. “Yes. But I have no intention of saying yes.”
He paused, the rush of thoughts going through his mind almost visible. “You’re mine,” he stated with confidence, then defied his words by dropping his hold and taking a step away.
Standing in silence, she watched him pace through her living room.
“I need to go.” One hand rubbed the back of his neck while he used the other to hand her the keys.
“Right,” she whispered, entirely confused. Over time she’d determined the relationship between Dean and his father wasn’t rock solid. They dealt with each other in a sterile, professional manner and, although they rarely argued, she’d never seen them bond like father and son should. She didn’t want to become involved in a family feud.
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why he said the things he did, the words that made her heart thrum and her belly flutter, but her mind sobered. Dean was a work colleague, her boss in fact, and someone she couldn’t afford to have a messy relationship with. It would be best to ignore the whole afternoon and forget it ever happened.
Overwhelmed with fatigue, she turned away, in search of water and aspirin to ward off a hangover. “I’m going to bed. Thanks for the ride home, and please don’t mention to your dad what I said.”
It may not be dark yet, but the dwindling alcohol buzz and the emotional backlash had drained her, making it hard to keep her eyes open. She needed to sleep…or pass out, whichever came first; whichever killed the embarrassment quicker.
The dull thump of Dean’s paced steps halted. Beth ached for h
im to say something to assuage her disappointment. Instead of holding her breath, she continued into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, two aspirin from the drawer, and downed the tablets in one gulp.
“We’re not finished.” He followed her into the kitchen. “Now you’ve made the first move, I won’t let you back down. When you’re sober and thinking straight, I’ll be here. I’m not letting you walk away again.”
She paused, a halfhearted laugh leaving her lips before she headed for the stairs leading to the second floor and her bedroom. “Whatever, Dean.”
“Scoff all you like, but mark my words, I’m not backing down.”
Tingles of hope ran up the back of her neck. Her heart was already convinced, screaming for her to turn, to run to him and find what she craved in his arms. But she couldn’t. Month after month, week after week, Beth had listened to the office gossip of the nameless, faceless women who shared his bed, each woman lasting for a few nights of passion before he moved on.
Dean was a player, a man incapable of commitment, and although she wanted to believe there was more to him, to tell her mind this infatuation wasn’t a mere physical attraction, she knew better. Men were creatures of habit. They couldn’t go from eating a smorgasbord of top quality delicacies, day in, day out, to a set diet for the rest of their lives. He obviously loved his…menu.
Beth’s life, on the other hand, was stable, predictable, and she needed that. He was only trying to lighten an uncomfortable situation, using his charm to make her feel better about herself. Dean didn’t truly like her, not the way she wanted, the way she needed. He was an unrepentant womanizer, and she was looking for a future.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she whispered.
Chapter Four
Beth woke to an alarming case of alcohol-induced embarrassment. Add a mild headache, a severe taste of gravel mouth, and she hoped the day could only get better.
Please God, let it get better.
