by Eden Summers
She groaned while sinking farther under the covers and couldn’t help thinking of Dean. In less than an hour she’d completely messed up their friendship and professional relationship. At least she’d achieved it in her typical efficient manner. She didn’t want to imagine how his opinion of her would have changed. He probably thought she was desperate for trying to kiss him. Or childish for the way she reacted to his rejection. No doubt he thought she was bat shit crazy for mentioning his father’s proposition as well.
She wallowed before letting out a sigh and throwing back the covers. No point worrying about something she couldn’t change. Yeah right. She just needed to deal with it in a calm and professional manner—exactly the opposite of how she’d handled yesterday afternoon.
Beth stretched, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Her room was still in darkness. She glanced at the bedside clock and released a groan. The fuzzy red numbers glared at her, showing the time as barely past five. Waking before sunrise on a weekend was sacrilegious, even when it was karma’s subtle way of giving her a kick in the ass.
She rolled from the bed, blindly walking to her bathroom, hoping a long, steamy shower would wash away the niggling headache and self-pity.
Fifteen minutes later she was shampooed, smelled like an overripe strawberry, and had a more positive outlook on the day. She’d even convinced herself Dean wouldn’t hold a grudge. He loved to tease and embarrass, and if goading remarks were the worst of her worries, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. They could move forward, remain friends, and she would continue to lust after him from a distance, praying her resistance didn’t wear down again.
First thing Monday morning, Beth planned on apologizing. She would brush off the kiss, claiming it was nothing more than drunken stupidity, and move on with her life. Hell, she would even bite her tongue and let Dean enjoy the teasing torture she knew he would inflict, over and over and over again.
She could deal with it.
What she couldn’t deal with right now were thoughts of Dean’s father and his proposition. How would she let her boss down gently without risking her job? Unable to summon the courage to tackle the predicament, she decided to wipe it from her mind until tomorrow.
Using a plush towel, she dried the excess moisture from her hair, wrapped the heavy material around her body, and secured it above her breasts. Glancing into the mirror, she bit her lip and smiled at the memory of Dean’s mouth on hers. It may have been a mistake—a monumental one—but it had been the most wickedly delicious mistake.
At least when the embarrassment at work became too much, she could gain solace from the images she would never allow to dissipate from her mind. Soft, dominant lips. Strong, unyielding arms. Firm muscled pecs, and a scent sinful enough to intoxicate the gods. Hell yeah, it was worth it.
The images also left a heavy ache in her chest. Despite her rational mind knowing Dean wasn’t the one, her heart and body believed differently. She had to remind herself he wasn’t the type to settle for a white picket fence and 2.5 children. She knew they would never share another intimate moment together or even make love like she imagined so many times.
Beth tried to paste on a bright smile, hoping a cheerful expression would be enough to make her happy. It didn’t work. Her chest began to throb, her eyes glazed, and she had to glance away, unable to stand her own sadness. Dean wasn’t the one for her; she knew that. The sooner her heart caught up to speed, the better.
She turned off the light and left the bathroom in search of clothes. She couldn’t see a thing in the darkness but a sudden sense of unease swept over her. Her skin prickled and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
Something wasn’t right.
Beth made a slow visual sweep of her surroundings. She tried to determine the cause of her unsettled nerves while her eyes gradually adapted. Her room seemed as it should be. The curtains were still closed, the first rays of sun breaching the edges. The mess of tangled sheets on the bed was exactly how she’d left it. No furniture stood out of place. The clothes she threw off last night still lay haphazardly on the floor. But her skin still crawled as if someone was watching her.
A squeak of noise registered from the hallway and her head snapped to attention. Oh God, someone was in her house. The erratic beat of her heart stopped completely and she froze in place. She scrutinized the doorway, staring with intent as the blackness turned to shades of gray. Her sight began to focus and a dark figure appeared.
Someone was there. In her doorway. She gasped, unable to control her panic.
Without thought she opened her mouth and let loose with a piercing scream. The noise stung her ears but didn’t smother the muttered curse coming from the doorway. Beth reached for the bedside lamp, only to be blinded by the bedroom light. The brilliant burst of yellow cut off her scream and snapped her eyes shut. She threw her arms up in a lame attempt to protect herself and stepped back, blinking wildly.
With each blink her sight adjusted and the form of a man came into view. “Dean?”
He leaned against the door frame, his posture casual as he smirked at her. The self-assured bastard smirked at her!
He still wore the same clothes from the day before, lacking his shoes and socks. His hair stood on end as if ruffled from sleep, and he gave her a thorough once-over.
She measured her breaths, trying to slow her heart rate, and lowered her arm from her eyes. Her wrist brushed against the softness of the towel and she glanced down at her half-naked body, gasping.
Both hands shot to her chest, frantically reaching for the top of her towel to ensure her important bits were covered. Dean’s smile widened and his eyes grew dark as they focused on her cleavage. The intense gaze moved over her skin like a caress, the imaginary touch making her nipples peak and stick out against the material of the towel.
He pushed away from the wall and straightened his shoulders while he strode forward. “I’m done waiting.”
* * *
Dean started at the vision before him and felt his heart melt. He’d anticipated the scene, had imagined it in his mind. All. Night. Long.
Beth had made it clear she didn’t believe his declaration of intent. As soon as you’re sober and thinking straight I’ll be here. It wasn’t until she scoffed, showing a complete lack of faith, that the determination to prove her wrong kicked in. In all honesty, he hadn’t meant the words so literally. He intended their meaning to be in a few days, a few weeks at most, when things settled.
The plan had been to change his current approach. He’d been treading lightly since their last disastrous kiss, trying to get the relationship back to the way it was before. His flirting had been more subtle, his intent less obvious, while he waited for their friendship to lose the edge of discomfort.
This time things would be different. Instead of giving her time, he planned on taking the no-bullshit approach. From now on, he would handle Beth the way he was most comfortable and confident with. He would tempt her until she succumbed to his charms.
Not only would he literally seduce the pants right off her, but he didn’t plan on giving her a few weeks to sort her shit out. Hell, he wouldn’t even give her a day. When she woke he would be there to start proving it.
So instead of heading to the office after she stormed to bed, he waited patiently. He hid downstairs like a psychotic stalker until the consuming silence settled over the house for half an hour. When he was confident she would be asleep, he started for the stairs to her room.
It hadn’t been hard to find. A skylight in the middle of the hall lit the way, and all the doors had been closed bar one. He ambled closer, taking the time to appreciate the family photos hanging on the walls. Each piece acted as a minor distraction as he worked his way to the open door at the end of the hall.
When he reached her room, cautiously taking the last step so Beth was in full view, he held his breath. The light of the setting sun peeked over the curtains, bathing her in a soft glow. His heart had beaten a rapid tattoo while he stood
silently watching her sleep. Her hair splayed across the pillow, the pink feminine pajamas leaving little to the imagination as her bare legs straddled the cream silk sheets. She was peaceful, fragile, beautiful.
So fucking beautiful.
Each time a breath escaped her lungs, his groin tightened. He fantasized about her breathing heavy in a completely different bedroom scenario. His vision blurred with the images of naked, entangled flesh, and the need to glide his fingers over her curves became a consuming ache.
With a shake of his head, Dean had retreated back downstairs. He chose to spend the night on her couch, less than impressed with his cock that felt the need to point at the roof for hours on end. He imagined running his tongue along the delicate skin at the low of her back, how he would devour her mouth with heated kisses, the way he would savor her mewls and screams of passion as he made her come with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He would make love to her, hot and heavy, soft and sweet, long and languid, however she wanted—all day long, until she was ruined for any other man.
Every minute had been torture, an unrelenting fight with temptation. The only thing stopping him from walking back up there, parting her silken thighs, and sinking into her wet heat, had been his need to plot a plan of attack. By the time early morning arrived he was delirious from lack of sleep, and convinced he had visualized having sex with Beth in every fucking way imaginable.
The sound of running water had broken the silence of early morning, causing his body to jerk to life. Beth was awake, and although he couldn’t remember having slept, he felt fully alert, ready to run a marathon like the damn Energizer Bunny.
Now she stood in front of him, face stricken, skin shiny and wet from the shower, and he lost a teeny, tiny bit of his confidence. The only thing covering her was a dark purple towel. A towel she currently gripped like a lifeline. What worried Dean the most was her expression, a look he tried to convince himself was merely shock, not utter terror.
“W-what do you mean?”
Good question. For a second he couldn’t even remember what his opening line had been, his mind entirely mesmerized with her creamy skin, the dark blonde strands of hair falling over her shoulder, the way the short towel made her legs appear ten miles long. Initially he planned on saying more than “I’m done waiting, Beth,” but when he caught sight of her, the hours of reciting lines vanished.
“I told you yesterday that when you were sober and thinking straight, I’d be here.”
Her mouth fell open, then snapped shut, pausing a moment before it opened again. “Y-you don’t have to do this, Dean.” She continued to back away and he had to admit he liked her being a little uncomfortable. She always had an air of peaceful serenity at work, only ever showing emotion if he peered deep into her eyes. It felt damn good to have her flustered for once. “To make me feel better, I mean. Throwing myself at you was embarrassing, but I was drunk and didn’t mean it.”
OK, so she wasn’t groveling at his feet just yet, no biggie. He hadn’t expected her to drop the towel, sashay her sexy ass over, and get on her knees, although it had been among a shitload of fantasies he enjoyed during the early hours. Beth had more class. She wasn’t a seductress, and even though she initiated the kiss yesterday, he knew it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t been drinking. His plan was still on track; he could make do with the flustered and uneasy.
His heart hammered as he approached. He acknowledged the way her eyes widened and her hand clutched the towel tighter. He was close enough to reach out and touch her, to move his hands over the delicate lines of her collarbone and wipe the loose strands of damp hair away from her face. But he didn’t. Instead he focused on the way her teeth bit into her bottom lip, the plump, crimson flesh calling to him like a beacon.
“I’m not sorry at all.” He should have wooed her, laying on a thick speech about his feelings and all that soft, sweet stuff. She deserved a man who could give her that. Before he could tell her how much he craved her like a drug, how her beauty surpassed comprehension, or that her smile was the first thing he thought of whenever he was down, his dick took over the percentage of working brain function. “I’ve wanted you for so damn long.”
Christ, didn’t she know how her sexy mouth drove him to madness? Watching her teeth dig into that sultry lower lip drove him wild.
She took another step back, bumping into the bedside table. Her eyes never left his while she righted herself, as if he were a predatory animal about to pounce…and he was.
“We can’t do this. You’re my boss, and your dad—” She cringed, glancing away momentarily before staring back with determination. “We just can’t do this, OK?” Her words held conviction, but her eyes didn’t match the emotion. He could tell she wanted this. She was just worried about the ramifications.
Her gaze dipped to his mouth, her tongue poking out to moisten her lips, sending his resistance straight to hell. He closed the distance between them with one step and leaned his face down to hers. Beth tracked his movements, her mouth falling open in surprise before he firmly took her lips with his.
He inhaled her gasp of surprise. The heat of her sparked a flame in his chest that rushed liquid fire through his veins, shooting straight to his cock. Dean had experienced the pleasure of Beth’s lips twice, both times blowing his mind. Yet they didn’t compare to the way he felt now. This time there were no doubts, no second-guessing, and there wouldn’t be any backing down.
He gripped her arms, holding her steady, and her body stiffened. He continued to kiss and lick and suck at her lips, expecting her to resist. When her mouth opened, allowing his tongue entrance to seek hers, relief flooded him and he clutched her tighter in silent appreciation.
His tongue coaxed hers in soft strokes as he moved one hand up her arm, over her shoulder, around her nape. He threaded his fingers through her damp hair, his other arm trailing around to encase her waist. He pulled her close so they were chest to chest, thigh to thigh, pelvis to pelvis. The lightest friction of her body against his erection drew a moan from his throat, his hunger all the more palpable as he devoured her.
He was aware of Beth’s hand still gripping the towel, confirming her reluctance to surrender completely. But her body began to soften and the tentative movements of her tongue increased. Her chest gradually molded into him, causing delicious friction. Timid fingers began to climb up his stomach, the soft, simple touches making his erection jerk.
Dean lowered his arm from her waist, sending his hand on a path to firmly grasp her ass. He ground into her, their tongues tangling, hips rocking in a simulation of sex. Christ. If they didn’t slow down he would finish before they even started.
He fought to gain control as a whimper jolted his senses, the feminine noise drifting from Beth’s lips into his mouth. He couldn’t get enough of her, the way her fingers now dug into the skin at the top of his pants, the sweet, fruity smell of her skin, or how her tongue sparred with his, neither meek nor intrusive. She was perfect—responsive, greedy, heavenly.
He wanted to join himself to this woman permanently, to take her to bed and concentrate on nothing except their passion until they were sated and sore. But no matter how much her touch consumed him, or her growing hunger demanded his attention, a thought still niggled at the back of his mind, pissing him the fuck off.
His father wanted her.
God…damn…it. What perfect timing to think of his dear old dad. No way in hell would he allow his father’s hands anywhere near her. Beth belonged to Dean, and he would do whatever necessary to make his father realize it. He didn’t care if she planned on accepting the offer; he would make sure it never happened.
This wasn’t the first time his father had propositioned someone Dean cared about. The last time had been over seven years ago when he’d unforgivably taken the woman Dean had been sleeping with. No, falling in love with.
A woman willing to take money to sleep with another man isn’t someone you want to waste your time on, son. His father’s words rang in hi
s ears, increasing the heat in his veins, turning his desire into a challenge to win. Couldn’t he see Beth was different? She was too innocent, too sweet, too much of a kindhearted woman under all that sassy exterior. No way in hell would he let his father touch her, let alone fuck her. No…way…in…hell.
He abruptly broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers to try and regain perspective. They stood in silence, their chests heaving from exertion. Beth glanced at him in a daze, her fingers clinging to his pants as if she would crumple to the floor without the support. Damn. He needed to get his shit together.
He stared into her eyes and fisted her hair. Just one more look into the deep green depths before he sent them to a place he hoped they never returned from. He cared so much for her already. Had feelings and emotions for her he hadn’t thought he would ever experience again.
Nothing would take this away from him. Not his own pride, not his reputation, and not his poor excuse of a father. “I won’t let him have you.”
Chapter Five
Dean’s words were a cold dose of reality. Beth had been reeling, struggling not to drown in arousal, when he spoke. Now she didn’t know what to think. It sounded like he was trying to prove a point. To win a challenge he didn’t need to compete in against his father. Surely he couldn’t be that cruel.
Before she could question him, he moved, bringing both hands down to grip her ass. Her concentration instantly wavered, the intense sensations his touch caused on her body overtaking the unease. His mouth lowered to hers again, lips plundering, tongue more demanding, and the inner muscles of her thighs tingled in response. He ground his erection against her belly and they moaned in unison, the thick length easily distinguished through his clothes and her towel. Hot damn, he was big.
Then he was lifting her, the hands on her butt sliding over to guide her thighs around his waist while they kissed. She locked her ankles around his lower back and clung to him. The towel started to stretch, creeping up her legs until she could feel her most intimate flesh being exposed. Her cheeks heated and the warmth flowed down her neck. She wanted to yank the material down, to cover herself, and in equal measure she didn’t want to draw any attention and show her sexual inexperience. She wasn’t a virgin by any means, but her lovers had been few and far between. If she compared herself to Dean, her tally would be closer to the Virgin Mary’s.
