Office Player Page 9

  Her cheeks heated, the gradual flame burning hotter while she remembered what she’d been thinking about, the way his tongue and lips had removed every last bit of cream.

  “Nothing,” she lied, trying not to smile.

  “Still sticking to your no-sex rule?” He took another lazy drink from the bottle.

  Her cheeks flamed red-hot at his direct question. It didn’t help that she was blazing up from the inside out, the heat most potent between her thighs.

  “Dean.” She raised her brows in warning.

  His sultry lips mocked her as they glistened from the beer, begging to be licked. If only she could throw caution to the wind and enjoy what was right in front of her.

  His face turned contemplative as he took another swig from the bottle, his eyes downcast when he spoke. “We’d be good together, Beth.”

  She sighed, unable to let the unease rest in her chest. They would be good together, for a time at least. But what would happen when he grew tired of having sex with the same woman? Because there was no way in hell she would sleep with him even on a casual basis without them being exclusive.

  Were they both adult and emotionally stable enough to return to an amicable relationship when things ended? She didn’t think so. She would be forced to leave her job, not necessarily by Dean, but by the heartache of seeing him every day.

  She paused, biting into a piece of cheese and taking a sip of wine, before answering. She wanted to believe his interest was more than sexual, more than casual, if only he had given her the words to confirm it. He was either sincere, laying his heart on the line, or doing a damn fine job playing her.

  As she chewed and swallowed, her heart fought to convince her mind, and her mind continued to second-guess. In the end she decided to play off the seriousness of his statement with a jovial reply.

  “Yes, we would be a truly great couple.” She gave a humorless chuckle. “You with your inability to commit and me with my inability to trust.”

  They fell silent, the sound of crickets and cars driving in the distance the only noise. His beauty was undeniable. Never had a man been so perfect in her eyes. And she wanted to believe him, wanted to believe in him; she just didn’t have the confidence to let go of all her doubts.

  A man proud of playing the field didn’t change overnight, yet she needed to believe he was capable of turning over a new leaf. She wanted his feelings for her to be strong enough to break his habit of one-night stands. That he could desire her enough to change the person he was into the person she needed him to be.

  Unfortunately, her life didn’t resemble a fairy tale and he wouldn’t be turning into her prince or knight in shining armor or whatever else her fantasies needed him to be.

  “I’ve wanted you for a long time—”

  “And you had me.” She didn’t need to hear the speech again. The words hadn’t skipped her attention the first time.

  She slipped from her seat to put distance between them. She walked to the railing of the balcony and rested her back against the wood. The extra space made speaking with him easier, to be able to look at him without his gaze feeling like a caress. “I enjoyed this morning just as much as you did. It scratched an itch we both had. But I’m not into casual sex.”

  His frown deepened as he took another stern chug of his beer. His shoulders straightened and his nostrils flared while his dominant, masculine vibes surrounded her.

  “Well, my itch is far from being scratched.” He placed the bottle on the table with a thud and moved to his feet.

  Her lungs constricted at his approach and he didn’t stop until they were a foot apart. His stare seeped under her skin as he leaned in, a lock of hair falling down to cover one eye, and he placed his hands on the railing on either side of her. “I want you. Not just for the night, or the morning, or whatever else you think. I want you…I want me and you.”

  He leaned closer, his lips brushing hers, the mix of beer and heat and man mingling on her tongue, sizzling her veins. “No other woman has made me want to beg.”

  Another kiss brushed her mouth while his hips settled against hers. “No other woman, Beth.”

  Her lips parted on a moan, eagerly anticipating his kiss, and all the fight drained from her body. There was no more strength of will, no more self-preservation.

  She could feel his erection through the material of his jeans, and couldn’t find a reason to deny herself any longer. She wanted him. Wanted to spend the night making love to him, having sex with him, whatever he wanted to classify it as, just as long as his body was between her thighs, dulling the ache.

  “Let’s order food.”

  She paused in confusion and mentally shook herself. Food? Her body hummed, her panties were damp, and he was talking about food. Hadn’t he just been kissing her, grinding himself into the softness of her belly?

  “I promised you no sex, remember?”

  She growled. Yeah, she remembered. It flashed like a neon sign in her mind.

  Chapter 10

  Dean had never shared a meal with another person and enjoyed the experience as much as he just had with Beth.

  Over dinner, their usual comfortable mockery had been emphasized with the buzz of a few beers and a bottle of wine, and he couldn’t help but find her happiness contagious. His focus was glued to her, firmly stuck on the smile plastered on her face while he helped clear away the dirty plates.

  The banter during the meal had left them both clutching their ribs in laughter and his cheeks were already sore from smiling. He loved making her laugh. There wasn’t a sweeter sound. The noise filled him with a strange sense of pride that a man like himself could make a woman like her happy in any sort of way.

  Once the main meal was finished she had risen from her seat and walked toward him with the box of fortune cookies. He’d sat in silence, resting back in his chair, noticing how her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink with her approach.

  She moved in beside him, clearing space on the table to take a seat in front of him. Her gorgeous legs crossed provocatively, causing her skirt to hitch up her thighs. His mouth dried, and he struggled to clear his throat. He didn’t speak, didn’t want to scare her off as she broke apart small pieces of fortune cookie and shyly bent at the waist to place them in his mouth.

  They fed one another, the previous playful moment now replaced with a growing intensity that turned him hard as stone.

  Christ, he wanted her. He was dying to get between her legs, to run his fingers over her soft flesh and taste her essence. To make her thrash with need and scream his name. He only had to push up her skirt, turn her legs toward him, and let his wandering hands do the rest.

  The mere thought made him itch to palm his cock. His sex drive had always been strong, even on his weakest days, but never like this. He needed her with a hunger so fierce it ate him from the inside out.

  What surprised him the most was the new appetite he hadn’t experienced before. He wanted to simply hold her, to drown in the sweet scent of her hair and run gentle fingers along her creamy white skin.

  The craving to simply be with her equally matched his sexual appetite. He wanted to drown in the sea-green depths of her eyes and feel the heat spread through his veins when she smiled, her eyes crinkling, her tiny dimples showing.

  “Are you ready to watch a movie?”

  Her voice startled him. He’d been staring at the tablecloth like a dickhead, lost in his own little world.

  “Yeah, sounds good.”

  She led the way into the living room and bent over to grab the remote from the coffee table. “What type of movie do you want to watch?”

  He honestly didn’t care. If he had her snuggled in his arms he would even agree to a chick flick. “You deci—” His cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket and he pulled it out to check the caller ID—Megan—his sister.

  “Do you mind if I take this?” He made a conscious effort to ignore work calls today, but preferred not to ignore his sister. When your father was a bastard, you tende
d to hold tight to the remaining family you had left.

  “Go ahead. I’ll make some popcorn.”

  She made her way from the room while he sank onto the couch and answered the call. His sister hadn’t uttered a word before his heart began pounding in his throat, her uncontrollable sobs shaking his foundation.

  “Megan, what’s wrong?”

  In the seconds before she replied his thoughts went into a tailspin. Had something happened to his mother? His father? Then he remembered her pregnancy and his palms started to sweat.

  “It…it’s Tina…” Her voice broke in anguish.

  Tina?

  He frowned while his brain jumped to a thousand different conclusions. He had no clue who she was talking about. He could only remember one Tina, Megan’s best friend from high school, but he hadn’t heard anything about her in years.

  “She’s dead.” The words came out in a choked cry and his heart skipped a beat.

  He clutched the phone to his ear and closed his eyes, wishing he stood beside her instead of them being hours apart. He pushed from the couch and paced the room, his body demanding action, commanding he do something, anything.

  “What happened, Meg? Where are you?”

  “H-her car…s-she fell asleep…” Another sob had his fingers encircling the phone tighter, fighting the urge to crush the plastic into tiny little pieces.

  “Where are you?” he demanded, wanting to get to her, to hold and protect her.

  Her cries continued, her agony piercing him like a knife. He treasured his sister and couldn’t stand the ache building in his chest knowing she was hurting.

  When Megan’s sobs grew faint, echoing into the background, a man’s voice came over the line. “Dean?”

  “Mark? What the hell is going on?” He glanced up, noticing Beth cautiously enter the room, her brow wrinkled with concern while Megan’s husband spoke.

  “It’s okay,” Mark assured. “We found out Tina passed away a few hours ago. I’m trying to keep Megan calm for the baby’s sake, but nothing I do is working. I thought talking to you might help, but she’s inconsolable. I don’t know what else to do.”

  Fuck. He planted his feet and tried to calm his mind so he could think. Where were his keys? “I’m on my way.”

  “No. Don’t. She’ll be all right. You wouldn’t be able to get here before morning anyway, and Megan will hate herself for making you come all this way. Once she gets some rest and isn’t dealing with the shock, I know she’ll settle down.”

  He was thankful his sister had found someone like Mark to look after her. Dean had spent many of his younger years taking care of her, being the father she needed, and he now found it hard to let go. He hadn’t been the person she turned to for guidance or support for a long time, but Megan would always be his baby sister, and he didn’t think he would ever stop picturing her as a fragile little girl.

  “Can you put her back on?” He swallowed over the dryness in his mouth.

  “Yeah sure, hold on a sec.”

  He waited, paused in Beth’s hallway as he roughly ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the lengths in frustration. What the hell should he do? When Megan picked up the phone, his relief was palpable. She had stopped sobbing, her grief now expressed through soft sniffles and ragged exhales.

  “Megan? I know you’re hurting, and I wish more than anything in the world that I could be there with you, but you need to listen, okay? You need to be strong.”

  A strangled cry echoed through the phone into his chest. The noise penetrated his soul, making his eyes burn.

  Not willing to share his weakness with Beth, he walked farther down the hall, opened the front door, and sat on the steps of her porch. “Listen, you have a beautiful baby to care for. And I know it’s hard, but you need to stay strong for the little one.” He paused, thankful to receive a sniff and mewled affirmation in reply.

  “Now when you hang up the phone, tell Mark to run you a warm bath. Grab one of those romantic Sheikh books you love and try to relax. I know you’re surrounded with horrible thoughts at the moment, but you need to drown in the good memories. Think about the happy times, the ones that made you laugh.”

  He prodded his forehead with strong fingers, trying to rack his brain for a memory of his little sister and her best friend. Vivid images of them scheming and laughing filled his mind, but he couldn’t grasp a specific memory.

  “Okay.” Her voice was weak.

  “How about the crush Tina used to have on David Wilkins?” He was clutching at straws, but the memory was better than nothing. “Remember the time he came over to study with me for a math exam and the two of you stalked him the whole time? The guy refused to come back to our house after that. Tina ended up leaving a love letter in his locker, didn’t she?”

  He received a half-sobbed chuckle in reply. “Yeah, she made me put it in there. She was too scared to get caught.”

  “Try and remember all those fun times for me. Try and think of the best memories you have. Then write them down. And I know you need to cry, hon; I know you’re hurting; just make sure you breathe. Make sure you stay strong for that little niece of mine.”

  Megan sniffed. “Or nephew.”

  “Yeah, or nephew. Although I’m convinced it’s a girl.”

  He rested his head in his palm while silence stretched between them. He wished he knew what to say to ease her grief, to take the pain away and make her smile, even just for a little while.

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  “I love you, Sis.”

  “I love you, too,” she replied. “I’m going to go. Mark’s already running me a bath. I just needed to hear your voice.”

  “Be strong, Meg.”

  The call disconnected leaving him in deafening silence, weighed down by the heaviness in his chest. Megan was twelve when their father cheated on their mother, tearing apart the family and leaving Dean to be the man of the house. He hadn’t been the best role model, hadn’t always known what to do or say, but at least he stuck around.

  Behind him the door creaked, announcing Beth as she approached. He took a moment to gain his composure, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes while he breathed deep and stood.

  “Sorry.” She cringed. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just wanted to check to see if you were all right.”

  He moved toward her, needing her strength. Picking up her hand, he stared at the delicate skin and could only see the image of his crying sister. He didn’t think he could stay away and rely on Mark to take care of her.

  As he raised Beth’s knuckles to his lips, he tried to convince himself Megan’s husband would be enough. The guy had to be enough.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Her voice was filled with compassion, penetrating his wayward thoughts.

  He gently pulled her into his chest, wrapped his arms around her waist, and let the delicate warmth of her body suffuse him. Holding her tight, he told her about his sister, about the loss of Tina and how she needed to stay strong for the baby.

  She clung to him while he spoke in hushed whispers on her front porch. Not once did she waver in her hold or shift from foot to foot as if bored by his story. He didn’t realize the way his shirt clung to him in patches until his words had dried up, her tears dampening the material.

  Clutching her tighter, his heart grew heavy with gratitude. He would never be able to let her go. He wanted to keep her in his arms and could no longer imagine being without her.

  He would always want her near, for comfort, for pleasure.

  For everything.

  Chapter 11

  Beth hugged Dean’s waist, her head resting on the firm planes of his chest. The frantic pulse of his heartbeat thrummed into her ear while her tears continued to fall.

  His vulnerable side touched her in places she never thought feelings for Dean would reach. He had always been a fantasy and she held her barely contained lust for him very close. Now the dynamics had changed. He was real. A real man, with real feelings, not
just a fantasy.

  “Let’s go inside.” He placed a kiss on her forehead and loosened his grip.

  As she moved out of his embrace, his fingers trailed down her arm, stopping at her hand, where he grasped it firmly, leading the way into the house. She didn’t know what to do. Did he need space? She knew guys didn’t do the whole emotional talking about feelings kind of thing, but ignoring what happened seemed wrong.

  When he suggested starting a movie again, she agreed and chose a romantic comedy from one of the streaming sites. When the movie started, she walked back to the kitchen, fetching the now cold popcorn, another beer for Dean, and the remainder of her glass of wine.

  “Sorry, the popcorn is cold. I’d make more but this was my last bag.” She handed him the beer and tried to determine where to sit. The remainder of the night needed to be friendly, not flirty, so one of the single recliners would be best.

  When she walked between him and the coffee table to reach her seat, he put his leg up, halting her passage. He gave her a somber smile and patted the spot beside him on the couch. “Come here.”

  She paused. She wasn’t confident she could hide her need to touch him if she sat so close. With measured steps she took the position at his side, leaving room between them.

  As she sank into the couch, just out of his reach, he leaned over, slid an arm around her waist, and pulled her closer until their bodies touched from knee to waist.

  “I’m not hungry anyway,” he whispered into her hair, “so you can have all the popcorn.”

  She clutched the bowl tighter, sinking into his body in small increments, trying to relax.

  “I won’t bite.”

  The graveled tone whispered over her neck, the sweep of his breath so close she could sense the slightest friction from his lips on her earlobe. She sank closer against him, not sure how to respond.

  Guilt clawed at her. He grieved for his sister’s friend, and yet she still couldn’t dampen her lust. Her body already hummed, finely tuned to his proximity and every move he made. The reaction was all kinds of wrong, and she wished she could shut it off.