04 Naked Games (15 page)
Soon Catherine was there, spiraling out of control. Her hot pussy bathing him in her juices as she climaxed. Dean sank his mouth over hers and captured her shouts of satisfaction. As the desire began to ebb, Dean clutched her hips and pushed into her once, twice, then he arched his neck and moaned her name as he emptied himself deep.
Catherine’s breath came in short pants, her body sweating from exertion, the skirt clinging to her overheated skin. Her legs shook as she collapsed against Dean’s heaving chest. “I’m so not moving. Ever again.”
Dean’s arms came around her shoulders, holding her tight against him. “Works for me.” She wiggled, gaining his attention. As his gaze snared hers, Catherine saw raw hunger in their passionate depths. If Dean hadn’t just spent himself inside her, she would have thought he was ready to go all over again.
“I think I’m going to be a bit sticky,” she teased, trying to inject some casualness into the intensity that seemed to surround them all of a sudden.
“I could make love to you twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
She had no words for such a bald statement. Good thing he didn’t seem to expect any. Dean sighed and slipped his cock free, then grabbed a tissue from a box on the corner of his desk and tenderly wiped her pussy clean. He tossed it in a trashcan beneath the desk, before he readjusted her panties. When his heavy length was once again confined, he slid a palm up her thigh and cupped her mound in a possessively hold. “You never cease to amaze me. You can be so bold and incredibly shy all at the same time. So much of you still mystifies me.” He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the forehead, then wrapped his strong hands around her middle and placed her back on the floor in front of him. “So, do you want to look around some more?” he asked.
She laughed. “Uh, I think I’ve seen enough for one day. I feel like a bath. A long one.”
He nodded. “Let me finish up and we can head out.” He looked at the computer and rubbed his chin. “What time did you say you’re meeting Gracie?”
Crud, Catherine had forgotten all about the concert. “Six o’clock. What time is it?”
“It’s only two,” he said, a slow sexy smile spreading across his face. “We have time.”
She knew that look. He was making plans. Naughty plans. “Time for what exactly?”
He wagged his eyebrows. “For me to play your bath buddy.”
Intrigued at the idea of spending more time in the Jacuzzi-style tub with Dean, Catherine said, “Only if I get to be in charge of the soap this time.”
Dean reached up and gave a playful tug on her hair. “You should know by now that I’m always the one in charge. At least when it comes to playtime.”
Frustrated, Catherine crossed her arms over her chest. “But last time I didn’t get a chance to wash you. Not fair.”
He winked. “Fine, you can go first, how’s that?”
Catherine grinned as she thought of all the wicked things she would do to him. She rubbed her hands together. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
Dean grunted and started to shove some papers into a drawer. “Hell, I might not survive it.”
Catherine’s mind went back over all they’d just done, and her mind glommed on to one thing. “Dean?”
Without looking up from his desk, he said, “Hmm?”
“Earlier you called me . . . your girl. Did you mean that?” She hadn’t meant to sound so vulnerable, but she needed to know where she stood with him.
Dean stopped what he was doing and looked over at her. He never took his gaze from hers when he said, “I meant every word.” He stood and closed the distance between them. They were only a breath apart when he asked, “Do you have a problem being mine, sweetheart? If so, you should tell me now.”
Her stomach flip-flopped. She felt utterly desirable around Dean. His words and caresses made her come alive. “I don’t have a problem with it. And you should know that I consider you mine now too.”
He reached out and stroked a single finger down her cheek. “Suits me just fine.”
“This could prove interesting though, considering I live in Georgia and you still don’t trust me.”
His eyes turned hard. “I don’t want to think of you leaving.”
Catherine noticed he didn’t address the trust issue. She knew at some point they’d have to. It was the white elephant in the room whenever they were together. She took the last remaining step and wrapped her arms around his waist, cuddling close. She didn’t know what was going to happen to their fragile relationship, but for now she planned to make the most of every second. “Let’s go play in the tub.”
His lips brushed the top of her head in a gentle caress. “I love the way you think, sweets.”
19
D
ean looked at the time on his alarm clock next to his bed. Christ, he’d only been away from Catherine for a few hours and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. What was wrong with him? Normally he was relieved when the woman he was dating didn’t smother him twenty-four hours a day. He hated the clingy types. Catherine definitely wasn’t clingy. In fact, right now she was off listening to some orchestra perform and probably having a great time. He shook his head and put the graphite pencil back in the cup. As he stood back, he surveyed the sketch. Damn, it was the best thing he’d ever drawn. He wondered if Catherine would like it. When he heard the doorbell, Dean’s stomach knotted. It couldn’t be her. The performance wouldn’t be over until nine, Catherine had said. She’d told him that she’d call when she made it back to the hotel. Still, a guy could hope. The doorbell chimed again, and Dean strode from the room. By the time he reached the front door, he was frowning. He yanked it open, ready to blast his visitor when he was brought up short by the sight of his mom and sister.
ean looked at the time on his alarm clock next to his bed. Christ, he’d only been away from Catherine for a few hours and he couldn’t stop thinking about her. What was wrong with him? Normally he was relieved when the woman he was dating didn’t smother him twenty-four hours a day. He hated the clingy types. Catherine definitely wasn’t clingy. In fact, right now she was off listening to some orchestra perform and probably having a great time. He shook his head and put the graphite pencil back in the cup. As he stood back, he surveyed the sketch. Damn, it was the best thing he’d ever drawn. He wondered if Catherine would like it. When he heard the doorbell, Dean’s stomach knotted. It couldn’t be her. The performance wouldn’t be over until nine, Catherine had said. She’d told him that she’d call when she made it back to the hotel. Still, a guy could hope. The doorbell chimed again, and Dean strode from the room. By the time he reached the front door, he was frowning. He yanked it open, ready to blast his visitor when he was brought up short by the sight of his mom and sister.
“Took you long enough to answer the door,” Deanna said, rubbing her hands together to ward off the chill.
“Was it really necessary to ring the bell twice?” he asked as he stepped aside to let them in.
“Sorry,” Deanna said, sounding anything but. “What were you doing?”
“I was working, Little Miss Busybody,” he answered as he tweaked her nose.
“This late?” his mom asked.
“Here,” Dean said as he helped her with her coat. Not that she needed it. At sixty-two years old, his mom still got around just fine. She had fair skin that barely showed her age and dark brown hair sprinkled with gray. Dean knew she’d joined a yoga class and that she took good care of herself. He still worried about her though. Since his dad’s death from a brain aneurism a few years ago, his mother had been left alone in the large house he’d been raised in. It bothered Wade, Deanna, and him that their mother refused to sell and find a small apartment.
“Nothing strenuous, I swear,” he answered her. “Just working on a bid.” He hated to lie to his family, but he hadn’t shared his love of art with them. He hadn’t shared it with anyone, until Catherine. It made him feel exposed whenever he thought of showing his sketches to his mom and sister.
She looked at him with the astuteness only a mother seemed to possess. “Are we interrupting?”
“Of course not, Mom. You’re always welcome at my house.” He leaned down and hugged her, before saying, “Sorry if I was rude.”
“Well, in that case, you wouldn’t happen to have some coffee made, would you?” she asked as she shivered. “Some really hot coffee?”
“Coming right up,” he said as he led the way to the kitchen. “For you too, Dee?” he called over his shoulder.
“I’d love some,” she answered as she followed close behind. “I thought you were dog sitting. Where’s Duke?”
“Back at home. His owner came home early from his trip.” As the women sat, Dean asked, “So, is there a particular reason for the visit? Or is it that you missed my pretty face?”
His mom laughed. “I always enjoy seeing the pretty faces of my children.”
“Yeah, but I’m the prettiest, right?” Deanna chimed in.
Dean snorted as he poured water into the well on the back of the brewer. “I’m the good-looking twin, remember?”
“That’s not what Jonas says,” Deanna shot right back.
Dean rolled his eyes. “His vote doesn’t count,” he said, scooping coffee grounds into the basket. “He’s biased.”
“Stop it, you two,” his mom said. “I swear, sometimes your bickering could drive me to drink.”
Deanna laughed. “But you love us anyway.”
Dean grabbed three mugs from the cupboard and sat them in the center of the table. He pulled out a chair, turned it around, and straddled it. He wasted no time getting to the point. “I can see you have something on your collective minds.” He looked at his mom, then his sister. “Might as well spit it out.”
“We came because we’re concerned about you, Dean,” his mother replied, her tone softening a measure. “You and Catherine both.”
Dean glared at his twin. “Big mouth.” At least Deanna had the good grace to blush. It was something, he supposed.
His mom reached over and patted the back of his hand. “Don’t be upset with your sister. She’s worried, that’s all.”
“About me? What the hell for?”
His mother frowned. “Watch your language.”
“Sorry,” he muttered. “But seriously, why are you two worried? I’m fine.”
“Not from what I can see, you aren’t,” his sister interrupted, unwilling to back off. Stubborn woman.
When the coffeemaker dinged, indicating it was finished, Dean stood to get it, welcoming the distraction. “Well, you don’t see everything, Dee,” he told her as he poured them each a cup.
“Have you decided to believe Catherine’s story?” she asked with a knowing look. Dean refused to answer. “That’s what I thought. So, you aren’t fine.”
He put the carafe back on the warming plate and leaned against the counter, leaving his mug on the table, untouched. “That topic is off-limits. Let it go.”
“Dean,” his mom said. “Have you considered that a good deal of your distrust of Catherine might stem from what happened between you and Linda? Not to mention the two losers before her who broke your heart.”
Of course he’d thought of it, but he didn’t want to get into that ugly can of worms with his mother, of all people. “Mom, that was all years ago. I’m over it.”
“You’re over them, that’s true, but are you over what those women did to you?”
“Yes,” he bit out, knowing it was the biggest lie of all. In his mind, Dean would always see that moment when he’d walked into the bedroom all prepared to propose marriage only to find Linda with another man.
His mom shook her head. “You care for Catherine, don’t you?”
He shrugged, not willing to discuss his feelings for Catherine with anyone but Catherine. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what they were. “I don’t know what I feel yet.” At least that was partly true.
“The truth, Dean.”
He’d forgotten how determined his mother could be. He felt like a little kid all over again. “Yes,” he admitted. “I’m beginning to care. The thought of her going back to Georgia has me in knots. Happy?”
His mother stood and walked toward him. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I won’t be happy until you’re happy. I want all my kids happy. And holding on to this hate, Dean, keeping that wound fresh, isn’t healthy.”
Dean started to put two and two together. “Is this like an intervention or something?”
“Don’t get an attitude,” she said, chastising him as if he weren’t an adult. “We love you, and that’s the only reason we’re here.”
He held up both hands in surrender. What was a guy supposed to do when he went up against two strong-minded women? “I love you too,” he said, meaning it. “And I get the message, loud and clear. But I’m a big kid and I need to deal with this in my way. Okay?”
Deanna moved up beside him, adding her own weight to their mother. “Talk to Catherine,” she demanded. “Tell her how you feel. If you don’t you could lose her, Dean.”
Put like that, Dean knew the pair of meddlers were right. As Jonas had put it, he needed to get his head out of his ass. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on both their cheeks. “Thank you for being so nosy.”
Deanna beamed. “Anytime.”
After the performance, Gracie and Wade dropped Catherine off at her hotel. She’d had a great time, but she’d been so tired that she’d yawned, more than once. Gracie had noticed and asked her about it. Catherine had caved and told her sister about Dean showing up at her hotel, and about what happened afterward. She’d thought Gracie would be happy, but if anything she appeared more worried than ever. Catherine didn’t understand it.
She kicked off her black high heels and stripped out of her clothes, then slipped into an old nightshirt. She looked at her cell phone, wondering if Dean was still awake. She glanced at the clock by the bed—ten in the evening. He would probably need to be up early for work. She should let him sleep. She was exhausted anyway.
“I can make it through one night without hearing his voice,” she told herself.
Besides, she was about to fall over from lack of sleep, thanks to Dean and his insatiable appetite. Not that she was complaining, she thought with a grin. Catherine crossed the room and pulled back the covers. That was as far as she got before her cell started to buzz. She froze and stared at it, willing it to ring. Could it be? When the perky little tone sounded again, Catherine fairly leaped across the bed to grab it.
“Hello?”
“I was wondering when I was going to hear your pretty voice.”
Her heart did a few cartwheels when Dean’s deep baritone came over the line. “I just got back. I thought about calling, but I was afraid to wake you.”
“I’m a night owl. Call me anytime.”
Catherine liked the ‘anytime’ part. It made her think of their relationship as long term. “I’ll make a note of that.” She scooted backward on the mattress and got under the covers. Once she was comfortable she said, “I missed you tonight.” She thought of how that might sound to a man like Dean who seemed to covet his independence, and thought to add, “Not that it’s a big deal, considering it hasn’t been that long since we saw each other.”
“I missed you too.” He went quiet a moment, and Catherine was afraid the call had been dropped. “I have a surprise for you,” he said in a quieter voice.
Equal amounts of shock and excitement zipped through her. “You do?”
“Yep,” he said. “I hope you like it.”
Intrigued, Catherine asked, “What is it?”
She heard him chuckle, and the deep, sexy sound sent shivers up and down her spine. “It’s a surprise,” he replied. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
She scooted up higher on her pillow. “When will you show it to me?”
“Are you busy tomorrow night?”
“No. Yes. Well, sort of. I’m going over to Wade and Gracie’s tomorrow for lunch and to hang out, but my evening is free.”
“Good, I’ll show it to you then. Want to come over around seven? Or I could swing by and get you, if you want.”
Her heart began to beat faster at the thought of seeing Dean. “I’ll drive, but thanks.”
“Now that that’s settled, what are you doing right now?”
She picked at a stray thread on the blanket and said, “I’m in bed.”
“Mmm,” he murmured, “nice visual.”
All the blood in Catherine’s body seemed to rush south at Dean’s sensual tone. “What are you doing?” she asked, curious if he was in bed as well. An image of him naked and all sprawled out in his big bed sprang to mind. Yum.
“I’m on the couch,” he replied, kicking her visual to the curb. “I was waiting for you to call me, but the phone never rang.”
She winced, hating that he’d waited in vain. “I’m sorry. I was afraid to wake you.”
“Tell me what you’re wearing and maybe I’ll forgive you,” he said with a hint of mischief.
Catherine laughed. “A snowsuit and cowboy boots.”
His chuckle seemed to go straight to her pussy. “Very funny.” He paused a second before saying, “Maybe you need a spanking. What do you think?”
Catherine pictured herself bent over Dean’s knee as he delivered several swats to her rear. Her pussy throbbed at the erotic visual. “Maybe I do.”
“Has a man ever done that to you before, sweetheart?”
Her face flamed, and she was only too glad Dean couldn’t see her. “No,” she said with total honesty. “Remember, I’m the unadventurous one here.”
She heard him shuffling around. “You just need the right teacher.”
The phone wobbled in her suddenly unsteady hand. “Are you the right teacher for me, Dean?”
“Would you like me to be?”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she had to tell herself to exhale. “Yes,” she said, going for broke.
“I have some ideas for us, Catherine, but I’m not sure you’re ready yet.”
Oh, curiouser and curiouser. “That depends on the ideas. What do you have in mind?”
“I’d much rather tell you in person,” he murmured huskily. “Tomorrow night, when I have you all turned on and anxious, I’ll tell you all the ways I plan to dirty you up.”
That stunning comment had Catherine’s jaw going slack for a moment. “You’re a very a bad influence on me,” she whispered.
“Probably,” he said, sounding far too serious. There was a pause and then, “Now, tell me what you’re really wearing. Give me something to think about tonight while I’m in bed.”
She looked down at herself and cringed. “Well, to be honest, I’m wearing an old green nightshirt. Nothing special or fancy. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he chastised. “I like you dressed up or down. Either gets me going, believe me.”
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