Falling for Fate (34 page)

F
ate left the small market with two bottles—one a cheap white zinfandel for herself and the other an expensive champagne for sharing along with what was left of dessert.

Dean was disconnecting a phone call when she climbed back into his car.

“I like cheap wine,” she confessed, showing him the pink bottle with the silver label. “But I got some good stuff too.”

Her smile slipped from her face when she saw how distraught Dean was.

“Dean?”

“I’m fine with whatever. You ready?”

“Sure.” She buckled her seatbelt while he backed out of the parking space. A truck pulling an enormous boat behind it blared on the horn as it barely missed clipping Dean’s bumper.

“Fuck. My bad,” Dean muttered under his breath, waiting until the coast was clear to pull out onto the road a second time.

“You okay?” Fate had a feeling the phone call he’d been on was the cause of the most recent mood swing. Likely, his tenacious caller had had news Dean hadn’t wanted to hear. She was pretty sure their weekend-only agreement didn’t entitle her to privileged information about his personal life, but if it was going to cause him to act like an ass during their brief time together, then she felt it was okay to ask if he was all right.

“I’m fine.”

Two “fines” in the span of two minutes. Not a spooner or a sharer then.

They rode the few blocks to the beach house without speaking, and Fate felt herself growing exasperated.

Arguing was for couples. She’d done enough of it with Trevor for a lifetime. This wasn’t about that. What she had with Dean was about hedonistic pleasure and nothing more. She refused to let him control her disposition with his constantly changing emotions.

She didn’t wait for him to open her door once they pulled into the driveway. He did have the key though, so she didn’t hurry. After walking calmly to the house, she held her bottles of booze and waited.

Dean carried the bag with the leftovers and their dinner in them as he came toward her with an absolutely expressionless face. He moved past her and unlocked the door. He held it open without speaking.

“Wine now or later?” she asked as she strode through the doorway.

“Up to you.”

He was like a zombified version of himself. She took several deep breaths, refusing to allow him to manipulate her emotions any more than he already had.

“I think now is good.” Fate found two clean, black-stemmed wine glasses in the cabinet and set them on the counter.

She paid no attention to her brooding housemate as he was putting leftovers in refrigerator and focused on finding a wine bottle opener. After thoroughly searching through every drawer in the kitchen and coming up empty, she wanted to cry. What kind of person didn’t have a wine bottle opener?

“Here,” Dean said gently, coming up behind her and taking the bottle off the counter. “It’s over here.”

He moved to a strange-looking apparatus that was barely noticeable on a small butcher block beside the refrigerator. She watched as he effortlessly used the medieval-looking contraption to pop the cork from her bottle.

“Thank you.” She took the bottle from him and poured two glasses.

Their fingers skimmed during the exchange and it sent a bolt of lightning through her body. Fate swallowed her first glass quickly, while Dean barely paid attention to his. She was pouring a second when he cleared his throat.

“Can I help you? Because, honestly, whatever happened on the phone obviously worked you up into a tizzy. Drink some wine, Dean, and chill out. You’re giving me a tension headache.”

“We’ve covered why I brought you here. But you never really answered why you agreed to come. Tell me.”

Fate narrowed her eyes at him. “Orgasms mostly. You promised them. Though I have to say, I was expecting much less angst and much more sex.”

“Is that right?” He looked down his judgmental nose at her. “And that’s all? Swear to me you are just here for sex, Fate.”

Fate took a long swallow of her cool, crisp drink. “What the hell else would I be here for?”

He shrugged and finally took his piercing gaze away from her. “I don’t know. Technically, I’m your boss, so now I guess the ball is in your court. You could sue me. You could sue the entire company if you wanted, say I abused my position of authority over you, harassed you at work, made you feel as if your job depended on being here with me. There’s plenty of evidence to support that claim.”

Rage consumed her from head to toe. Fate would’ve thrown her glass against the wall if it weren’t a perfectly good waste of wine. No man was worth wasting wine over.

“You’re right, Dean. I lured you onto the beach months ago so we could have that random encounter knowing that you’d end up being my boss. Then I avoided you as much as possible while somehow making you want to pursue me. I’m here now as part of my elaborate plan that involves fucking you blind so I can record the whole thing and show my lawyers before I sue you. You caught me.”

“Fate… I’m sorry. I—”

“No. No more of this bullshit, Dean. I’m done.”

She whirled around to leave, but he grabbed her arm. Acting on instinct, she slapped him hard across the face. Her palm instantly burst into flames.

She’d slapped him even harder than she’d slapped her cheating ex-fiancé. She was angrier this time. Angrier with a man she barely knew than the one she’d dated for years. Nothing made sense. Black spots appeared on the edges of her vision.

She took advantage of his momentary shock to try and escape, but he only gripped her again, pulling her backside tight against his front.

“I said I was sorry. You’re right. It was a ridiculous accusation and I shouldn’t have voiced it out loud.” His words were moist and warm in her ear.

“Go to hell.”

“Forgive me, Fate. We don’t have enough time left for you to stay angry.”

“Fuck you.”

“How about I fuck you until you forget why you’re mad?”

A hissing sound slid through her clenched teeth. “Good luck with that. I’m not sure you’re up for it.”

Dean pressed his erection into her backside. “Oh, I’m up for it. Spread your legs.”

She contemplated denying him. Pictured herself storming upstairs and locking herself in a guest room. But dammit, the asshole owed her some orgasms. So she moved slightly, allowing him access.

“If I don’t come, you take me home. Tonight. Got it?”

Dean let out a dark chuckle. “Sweetheart, if you don’t come, I’ll change my name to Fate’s Bitch and replace the sign on my office door.”

“Deal.” Her knees weakened when he slid a finger beneath her panties.

“Fate?” He parted the swollen lips between her legs. She hadn’t even realized how aroused arguing with him had made her until he dipped into her wetness.

“Y-yes?”

“What do I get if, no,
when
, I make you come?”

“W-what do you want?”

His hand zeroed in on her clit, and she used all the strength she had left to remain upright. Dean continued holding her upright with the arm around her waist. She clutched the edge of the countertop for added support.

“I want to own you. I want permission to fuck you whenever, however, wherever, until we decide we’re done. Mutually. And I want exclusive rights to your body until then. That thing you said about not being exclusive? Fuck that.”

He parted her with two fingers before sliding them inside her. Fate cried out from the intrusion.

“What was that, baby?”

“Okay,” she said with a quivering voice. “I said okay.”

Dean placed an openmouthed kiss on her neck just below her ear. “Why, Ms. Buchanan, I’m disappointed in your lack of enthusiasm. How about a more courteous answer?”

Fate clamped down on the two fingers thrusting in and out of her. “Yes, sir. I would love for you to fuck me whenever, wherever, and however. So long as you make me come. And you sign in blood that you will stop with your hot and cold bullshit. If you accuse me of anything other than using you for sex, I walk.”

“I can do better than that. I can sign your body in my come, baby. That work for you?”

Her inner walls trembled at his erotic promise. “Fuck me now, Dean. Please. Enough talking.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She heard the quick tear of his zipper just before he thrust into her from beneath her dress. She lost her breath as her panties slid alongside her clit with his expert fingers.

Dean released the arm around her waist and used it to press her down over the counter.

“Motherfucking hell,” Dean bit out into her ear. He pounded hard, relentlessly, while pulling the knot of hair at the nape of her neck.

Once she could breathe again, she pressed her ass backward, meeting each thrust with one of her own. “Harder, Dean. Fuck me as hard as you need to.”

He was so full of pent-up stress all the time. She got it now—the pressure of his position, his strained relationship with his father. He was trying so hard to balance it all, and she knew exactly how that felt. They could be this for each other—a release. A safe place where they could work out every fear, stress, and insecurity. He wasn’t the only one who needed that.

He roared loudly and it echoed off the bare, white walls. The head of his cock pressed against her deep, causing a rippling effect through the most sensitive places until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m coming, Dean. I’m coming
now
.”

His fingers pressed harder and she fell apart in his hands while he continued taking her roughly from behind.

“Can’t keep standing,” she barely managed to get out.

Dean used a hand to lower her to the cold tiles of the kitchen floor. He never once left her body. As soon as they were on the floor, he bit her shoulder where her dress and his sweater had fallen from it. The pinch of his teeth made her body overheat. It was too much, too many sensations for her brain to handle.

The pressure built again and she cried out. It was overwhelming and seemed like it might destroy her if an orgasm crashed down on her again. Dean’s only response was to go deeper, filling her and bearing down into her while continuing to assault her clit with his fingers.

“Dean, please,” she breathed out. “Dean. God.
Ohgodohgod. Oh fuck!
Dean!”

The second wave hit, tearing through her core, and Fate couldn’t hold herself up any longer. She fell the few inches and pressed the side of her face to the cold floor while he finished. When the scorching bursts of his release filled her, a third wave threatened. She didn’t have the energy left to stave it off, so she just let it hold her under.

She was still lying there when he stood and zipped his pants. His release was warm and thick, dripping out of her and down her thighs. She felt him do as he’d promised. His finger dipped into her then scrawled something, his name she was pretty certain, onto her bared ass cheeks.

She hoped he planned to clean her up or, at the very least,
help
her up off the floor.

He didn’t. He just walked out, straight out of the kitchen and, from the sound of it, out the French doors and out of the house.

What the hell?

Shame and embarrassment held Fate down for a few more seconds. Then rage picked her up.

“Goddamn, motherfucking bastard!” She was alone, but she yelled the curses out anyway. Her wine glass was close enough to empty, so she gave in to the urge to throw it. The beautiful glittering shatter of glass offered only a mild relief.

Now the asshole had gone and made her waste wine.

She pulled herself together, using nearby paper towels to clean up. There was a use for Bounty she’d bet advertisers hadn’t thought of. She was fully prepared to storm outside and give Dean a piece of her mind when she saw him sitting alone on the shoreline.

He looked so…lost. She remembered that feeling.

“Why are you this way, you beautiful, mixed-up man?” she whispered against the closed door. “Who did this to you?”

She’d been hurt too. She’d been damn near destroyed actually. But being with Dean made her feel as if she were coming back to life. Until he retreated from her immediately after every single time she thought they’d made progress. Being with her seemed to be making him feel worse somehow. But why?

The only person who could answer that apparently wanted to be alone at the moment and as far from her as he could get.

Instead of going outside to yell at him, she sat on the couch and watched him through the glass doors. After a while, the sun disappeared, pulling the last vestiges of pinkish-orange daylight with it into the ocean.

“If only you’d tell me what was wrong,” she muttered. “Maybe I could fix you.”

Therein lied the problem. She’d learned with Trevor. And Melissa.

You couldn’t fix broken people. You could only hope that they valued you enough to try and be the best version of themselves that they could. No one had fixed her. Well, maybe Gwen had a little. But the majority of the healing hadn’t come from the words or actions of anyone else. It had come from picking herself up and surviving day after day.