Forever (13 page)

****

Building the website took a lot of concentration, anchored by some decaf coffee—information page, pics, catalogue entries, buy links. Amy eschewed chemical creamer, pretty sure she wasn’t pregnant, but no sense in taking any chances. Everyone knew the risks to the unborn, and that meant no alcohol, no unnecessary chemicals and probably no vast amounts of sugar. Her sweet tooth would have to suffer for the next week or so. She avoided thinking about having a baby, other than in the hypothetical sense, because it terrified her. Amy wasn’t sure if you could study to be a good parent or if it would just come to you when the kid arrived, but she dreaded the work ahead. She wasn’t ready, and Dean, well, he would probably either excel at the parenting stuff or be horrible at it. There were just no shades of gray with that man. He hovered in the back of her mind as the hours crept past and she alternately cursed and blessed Sandra for asking her to take this step back.

Hitting
save
for the final time and running through the various components of the site as a test run, she sent the proof to the client who lived in … Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada. Loosely translated, it meant the Queen, swift flowing river, settlement or village. Strange, but true. The woman was selling knitted calf ear covers. Also strange, but true. Anyone who would want to protect tender little newborn calf ears from the apparently frigid temperatures up there in Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada, was all right by her.

“Shit.” Okay
, talking to oneself wasn’t uncommon, but thinking about B.O.B., just a few steps away in the bedroom despite the diversion of calf ear covers, was kind of lacking when she had an amazing stud to meet those needs. Except he wouldn’t be there until breakfast. Eight o’clock to be precise, and that was a long time. She tossed the pencil in the general direction of the cool wire holder she’d found at the stationary store and reached up to let her hair down from the clip. Maybe she should think about watching a movie, or take a nice long soak. The idea of water surrounding and easing her appealed the most.

****

The grassy bath salts foamed under the pounding of water pouring from the tap. Amy eased into the steaming bath and set her head on the little blown up pillow hanging over the lip of the tub, her hair caught back up on the top of her head. When the water level crept up to the edge, she pushed the taps closed with her toes. Bliss. She soaked for some time ,thinking about Sandra’s advice, comparing and contrasting several scenarios, but knew her mind was already made up. She was going to move in with Dean, take the dual risk. She might never have another opportunity at her forever, and anything worthwhile having required effort. Dean appeared willing, and if he used that uncompromising attitude in a good way, she figured it might be okay. Besides, she suspected she loved him, as insane as that might sound. Not that she knew what love felt like, but this thing they had going on wasn’t just about the great sex.

The cell phone sitting beside the tub beckoned. It was a woman’s prerogative to change her mind, right? And he worked late, he said so. She punched the key for his number.

“Amy.”

“I’m hungry now.”

Was that a weighted beat of silence? “Half hour.”

Pouring a healthy dollop of the same scented body soap onto her sponge, she washed up before standing to rinse beneath the shower, the foamy water swirling down the drain at her feet. She ran her razor over the soft stubble on her legs—lasering her pussy and armpits had been all she could afford before being so rudely cut from the herd of tits and ass—shaving her legs was simple enough. Wrapping a towel around her, she moved to the bedroom, pulling the clip from her hair as she went. The throw pillows were easily piled on the chair, and Bogs was set on the dresser. The little bear was in sad condition, and deserved better than being tossed to the floor. The buzzer sounded in the prearranged sequence, filling the silence and like the proverbial Pavlovian dog, Amy’s mouth watered. She raced to open up. No time for pretending, no time to waste.

Dean strode past her, eyes darkening when she turned from locking up behind him as he took in her state of dress, or undress as the case might be. He had a cardboard tray holding two tall plastic cups, and a large paper bag, grease stains decorating its white exterior. Leather jacket open over a black tee shirt, same worn jeans with the hint of threads showing through the pocket right about where he’d stashed his keys. Which drew her eyes to the bulge beneath his belt buckle. Pausing only to toe off his boots, the tray and bag thumped onto the counter and his index finger hooked into the towel, right between her breasts.

Amy willingly let herself be drawn tight against him. Leather creaked and his scent enveloped her. She wreathed her arms around his shoulders, fingers linking behind his neck
, and relished the feel of his big hands settling on her ass.

“I brought you some food. For later.” He stared down at her
, and she lost all perspective. Food? She went on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his. As if it was a signal, Dean was galvanized into action. Her towel crumpled to the floor before they made the hallway, his leather jacket discarded at the bedroom door. She frantically worked the belt buckle and went to her knees, opening the button, pulling at the zipper, dragging the denim down, taking his boxers along with them. His cock sprang free, up to slap his firm belly, mushroom head purple and wet for her, male musk rousing her senses. This time, her way.

Nuzzling the soft skin of his shaft, she traced each of the veins with the tip of her tongue, whisper soft, before laving the one pulsing hard, all the way from the base to the cockhead. His thighs tightened and Amy ran her hands up and over the play of the long, powerful muscles, then dipped her head to lick the crease of each thigh near his scrotum. The crinkle of crisp hair met her tongue and she cupped his sac, rolling each testicle with reverent care.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Put me in your mouth.”

Ignoring him, she nibbled and licked, weighing his sac with one hand, stroking upwards with her other to drift her fingers over his shaft. Dean’s hands fisted in her hair and tugged her head back. Eyes churning with lust, the skin tight across his high cheekbones, he growled his displeasure. “Quit teasing.”

Hiding a smile, she leaned back in and rapidly whiffled up his cock, lips suctioning in tiny increments until she reached the V whereby, without warning, she sucked him inside on a breath. Dean stiffened and a groan reverberated around the room. Carefully shielding her teeth with her lips, she worked hard at taking him deeper with every bob of her head, salty precum lubricating her mouth with every pass. She circled the base of his cock with her hand, pressing just hard enough to delay his release, tormenting him, wanting to pleasure him senseless. He pulled away, breaking her grip and hauled her to her feet to spin and shove her onto the bed. She loved the way he handled her, forcefully but without doing any real harm. The faint bruising from his mouth and strong fingers were badges of honor she would gladly bear.

Chest heaving, cock straining, shiny wet from her efforts and his own, he folded her legs up and pushed her knees wide apart, positioning them near her shoulders. He stared down at her spread pussy while sheathing his cock, kneeling to guide it into her. Pressing past the initial resistance, their collective breath hitched, and she watched as his eyes closed, cock fighting for territory. Planted to her cervix, he slung her legs over his shoulders and unleashed his power again,
his big cock prodding high in her channel, making her pant.

Working above her, sweat darkening along his hair line, jaw ticking with strain, Dean pumped harder and harder, swiveling his hips, grinding against that spot and pressing the top of her apex. Pinned beneath him, all she could do was arch up and hang onto his muscled forearms. Her orgasm shuddered outwards from deep inside her sheath and she screamed with it, jerking helplessly as he pushed her up again with measured strokes. The second climax made her bear down hard and she felt his erection break within her, wishing for the sensation of his scalding seed. As he pulled out, her legs slipped bonelessly from his shoulders to sprawl wide. He dealt with the condom
, yanked his pants up, and stood looking at her. She couldn’t read him, unfamiliar with the look on his face, but thought it boded well. She realized she hadn’t said a word since he’d walked in the door.

“Hello, babe.”

“Thought maybe cat got your tongue.” That infernal brow rose.

“Nope, but something else did, at least until you went all caveman on me.”

“Worked for me. And you.”

Having no smart ass response to that truth, she contented herself with a smile and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Dean wasn’t in the room. She could hear him, paper rustling and cupboard doors opening and closing. He appeared in the doorway, carrying a plate and that cardboard tray. Pushing up to one elbow she spied donuts. Donuts! If she had any doubt before, it was gone. The man brought her
donuts
.

Setting the plate on the closest nightstand, Dean pierced each lid of the cups with a straw and offered her a choice. “Chocolate or strawberry.”

Milkshakes
and
donuts. Oh, my God. “Chocolate.”

The cold bottom of the plastic cup placed on her belly made her shriek, but he distracted her with a donut, and she fumbled to hold the shake steady while getting a grip on the sour cream glazed
confection. Pure decadence, and she’d have to swim a mile of laps to wear it off, although the recent sex might count for something against those calories. Sandra’s voice sounded far back in her head and she pushed it away.

Dean
stripped and climbed into bed beside her as she wiggled up to a semi-sitting position, almost too intent on her treat to take in his amazing body. Almost. They ate in relative silence, broken only by the sounds of the straws grating on the plastic lids, and soft slurping. The latter kind of reminded her of the noises she made sucking his dick, but she didn’t say it out loud.

“I was gonna stop and pick up the ingredients for a real breakfast, sweetheart. But you probably have them here.”

Languidly reaching over, she pressed a fingertip against a krueller crumb caught in his chest hair, lifting it away from his skin to tuck it inside her lips. He watched her with the eyes of a predator, like the wolf she saw in the zoo as a child. She shivered and he snagged the sheet pulling it up to cover them, careless of the crumbs. Men definitely made more laundry.

“I love donuts and shakes. I like food, period. Which means I have to counteract the intake with exercise.” She felt her mouth twist into a miserable moue.

“You work out?”

“More swim and walk. Sometimes I’ll go to the gym if there’s a specific body part requiring attention.”

Big hand pressing the sheet against her body, outlining her curves, he shrugged. “Nothing here requiring attention.”

Laughing, enjoying the way Dean’s eyes tracked the movement of her breasts under the sheet, Amy replied. “And I want to keep it that way. Stay healthy
, anyhow. So the donuts and shakes gotta be a treat.”

“Okay. Don’t eat them regular
, anyhow.”

Noting how his speech sometimes segued into down home patter
, then into educated patterns, she speculated, then dismissed it. Part of his appeal and probably not important right that moment. Lots to learn.

She casually said, “I’ve got my own exercise machine by the look of things
, anyhow.”

Dean froze, straw half way to his mouth
, and his head inched around until he could look at her. She gave him her best smile and was rewarded with one of his. She put her empty shake container on the side table and turned off the light, settling on her side. He followed suit and wrapped an arm around her, spooning, sated cock pressing against her ass. The press of his lips against her hair didn’t go unnoticed and she managed to say it, striving to hold back the intense pull of sleep.

“I’ll move in whenever you want.”

There was no hesitation in his reply. “Next weekend. I’ll take care of your lease, store your stuff.”

“’Kay.”

Chapter Six

“But I like my bed!”

“My bed is bigger, Amy. You can choose a different headboard, new bedding. Not pink.”

“I like pink.”

“Then buy pink underwear, sweaters or something. I’m not having pink towels or sheets.”

“Any other directives?”

S
he was already over it. Dean could tell. There were some things he wasn’t going to bend on, and pink shit was one of them; otherwise she could redecorate to her heart’s content. She was on her period, too, so he counted himself lucky to avoid a major battle, because he’d heard women could be unpredictable when their hormones were out of whack. Lucky, too, that she wasn’t pregnant, because it was too soon, and would have pushed his hand. His job was too dangerous for a child to be brought into the mix, forcing him to shut things down before he’d accomplished everything that he had to do. Not that he hadn’t entertained some thoughts about having made a baby inside Amy, finding the idea attractive. If he was going to have kids, and at thirty four he should be thinking about it while he still had energy for them, then Amy would be his first choice to bear his babies. The only choice, if he was honest. He flinched at the idea of giving her that kind of power over him. It was probably good she’d be going on birth control immediately.

“Dean?” She was staring at him, all sensuous curves in dark tight jeans and form fitting purple tank
that matched her eyes almost exactly, and that mass of hair spilling to catch the light. Beautiful.

Pushing back his uncertainty, he answered
. “What?”

“I said
, I’ll pick up some groceries this afternoon. Anything you’d prefer for dinner?”

Dinner. Babies. Someone living in his home—there when he got back from whatever his business demanded of him. The uncertain feeling vanished, replaced by an unfamiliar sense of contentment laced with anticipation. “Not real fond of salad, none of those jellied things with vegetables.”

“I have no idea what those are, babe. I cook basic, but maybe now I have someone to test things on I’ll experiment a little.”

Manufacturing a shudder at the idea of being a guinea pig, he watched her laugh and was ridiculously delighted to have coaxed the reaction. “I’ll drive you.”

“S’okay. I heard you tell Randy you’d meet him in about ten from now. Will you be home around seven?”

“That’ll work.” And how had he forgotten telling his lieutenant they would meet? As if he didn’t know the reason for his distraction. He didn’t like her driving that import, no matter the fact the Germans made a good product. It wasn’t that big a vehicle and she drove it like it was made to be driven, making him worry—and it was a convertible.

“I’ll do some shopping for here, too. No pink. Just some stuff to soften the edges, make it less so totally freaking male.”

Wrapping a hand around her wrist, pulling her close for a kiss, he spoke against her temple. “I am freaking male, sweetheart. But decorate at will. Leave me the bills.”

“No. I want to do this on my dime.”

Well, shit. He’d almost made it out the door on a high note. Making himself nod, he kissed her again and hustled. Randy would deposit the money directly back into her account. She didn’t need to spend her cash. He had plenty for both of them.

As he got behind the wheel, his cell buzzed. Amy. “I know that look, babe. I’m decorating on my dime. You want me to see this place as my home too, you let it be.”

Busted. “Steak, potatoes for dinner, sweetheart. See you at seven.” Last word.

****

The high end furniture boutique wasn’t a place she’d normally go to purchase items for her home but this was Dean’s home. Hers and Dean’s. She couldn’t put just anything into that designer pad.

“Things going okay?” Sandra idly fingered a drapery panel as Amy tried to decide between black slubbed silk or a fine charcoal wool for the living room windows. The area rug was a mix of gray and black with cream. Maybe the wool, but in cream, and she could paint that feature wall dove-gray. Closer to the vision in her head. Steel blue accents and the occasional hit of red.

“Amy?”

“Uh huh. Things are fine. Hardly any bumps, actually. For the most part we like the same things, and aside from him hating pink, Dean doesn’t care about what I do with the place. How about a damask comforter in stripes? Taupe, cream and blue?”

“Different than your usual taste, honey.”

True. The pink in her bathroom was over the top, but Amy had never been allowed girly. She wished she could have brought her comforter, but his bed was a king. “I feel more grown up.”

“Well, choose or wait for another day. My feet hurt and I need coffee.” Her friend smiled
, and nudged her.

“I’ll come back. I don’t want to rush. Besides, I’m having too much fun.”

“Suzy homemaker?”

Shrugging, she replied, “I like it so far. Dean doesn’t expect it. He’d take me out for every meal or we could order in, but I like it. I have time. It’s easy to work around my business, although I’m getting busier. And then there’s Lois. She cleans the place and I’ll tell you I
really
like that.”

“Your place was always spotless.”

“Didn’t mean I liked it. Cleaning. I don’t mind the day-to-day things like dishes and laundry, but having Lois take care of the major stuff makes me feel relieved.”

They strolled a few stores down and found a place to sit in the food court. Sandra dumped her bags and went to get a couple of coffees while Amy held their spot. She stretched out her legs and thought a little about her current living situation. It felt
… fine. Great? That too. Like it was meant for her. She’d lived briefly with other men, but never felt settled or welcome, and the expectations irked her. The initial pleasure in doing things for them soon paled, probably because they took it for granted, and it was one sided. Dean wasn’t like that. He gave back.

“The stuff looks like it’s been on the element for hours,” Sandra grumbled, putting the cups down on the plastic table. “Everybody’s drinking those fancy coffees
, and you can’t get real java anymore.”

The coffee was indeed terrible
, and Amy managed only a few sips, longing for her chemical creamer. But the fridge held half and half at home. She opened another container from the dish on the table and dumped it in, stirring with the little plastic stick.

“You’re happy?” There was a wealth of emotion in the question
, although Sandra was concentrating on her cup, tipping it from side to side, peering into the depths.

“I can’t imagine being anywhere else, Sandra.”

“You’re not wearing the necklace anymore.” There was no judgement in the comment, but considerable interest.

“C for change, Sandra. Biggest change in my life. And for the better. I know it’s still early days, but I don’t need the necklace to remind me.”

“I hear the hope, honey.”

“I hate it when he’s away for more than a few hours. I want to be with him and talk, learn more about him. I’m figuring him out, reading past the superficial stuff. And the sex isn’t bad.”

Their laughter, Sandra’s startled and likely unwilling, Amy’s smug and satisfied, caught the attention of those around them and a few people smiled back, caught up in the infectiousness of the sound. A handsome visage caught her eye and she stared, the laughter subsiding. She literally felt the smile drop from her face. Enrico. Just
happening
to be here? In the Mall? What the fuck?

Her friend flinched back as Amy shoved to her feet, coffee sloshing with the movement.
She marched over to where he sat. Pushing away her need to snap at him, she manufactured another smile, a very different one, and had the satisfaction of seeing Enrico’s eyes become wary. “Don’t skulk, ’Rico. Join us. Must have been a long, boring afternoon.”

“Miss Amy. I couldn’t intrude.”

“Amy. I’m nobody’s miss. And you’ve already intruded. Don’t make it worse.”

Standing, his lean frame covered by a perfectly pressed shirt tucked into dark trousers, he could have stepped out of a GQ shoot. Not as tall as Dean, about her height, and not as muscled as Dean, Enrico still had that predator
y male thing going on, sexy and sleek. Hotness rolled off him. Nodding gravely, he gestured for her to precede him and she strode back to Sandra. Her friend’s face was pale, eyes huge, her little teeth marking her bottom lip.

“You remember Sandra. Sandra? Enrico. Seems we have a guardian angel.”

Sandra narrowed her eyes. “Angel? I doubt it.”

Okay then. Amy was pissed that Dean ignored her refusal to have one of his men on her when she wasn’t home or with him. She liked Enrico, found him quiet but intensely aware and intelligent the few times they’d spoken. He’d lugged her boxes of shoes and clothes up the stairs into Dean’s condo without complaint
, too, and didn’t comment on her un-American choice in cars, like Randy and Olsen. The other men in the complex were polite and kept their distance, but she’d only just arrived, so it was to be expected. Their women were more welcoming, and Amy looked forward to introducing Sandra to them. However, at this moment she wanted to figure out the enmity between her friend and Enrico. More on Sandra’s side, because Enrico wasn’t giving off any vibes he didn’t like her…

“Enrico’s gonna join us and then follow me home. Right?”

Nodding, but never taking his eyes from Sandra’s face, he answered. “I do my job, Miss Amy. Amy.”

Sandra found her coffee very interesting again and said nothing further.

“I can’t say I like being a job, Enrico, but that’s between your boss and me. Sit. Please.”

As he pulled out a chair and dropped into it, Sandra picked up her purse. “Restroom.”

Enrico tracked her movements, and then gave Amy a look before glancing around the area, clearly vigilant. “I regret making you uncomfortable.”

Caught speculating on the obvious
something
between him and Sandra, Amy regrouped. “Not uncomfortable, Enrico. It’ll be uncomfortable now, because I’ll be thinking about all the stuff Sandra and I did today, and the fact you were there, too. Sure you weren’t bored?”

A Gallic shrug. “Dean wants you safe. He has never had a woman before, full time, and of late there have been
… there are always instances for concern.”

“What do you mean by instances?”

“That is for Dean to share.”

“And if I ask him?”

“Then he will tell you what he wishes for you to know.”

Male chauvinist pigs, the lot of them—Amy bit the words back, fueled more by a niggle of fear. She hated not having information if it meant looking out for herself. Although, she had Dean assuming that task…

Where the hell was Sandra? Enrico must be wondering, too, because his attention again diverted to the area where the restrooms were advertised with not only the words but cute little signs of stick people, one dressed in an outline of a skirt. The noise in the food court felt dampening, oppressive, and Amy looked around her with increasing paranoia.

“I’ll go get Sandra.”

“No.”

Holy shit. Another arrogant male. She wondered what the meetings were like, the ones Dean presided over so regularly. Almost without exception
, his crew moved and acted like they knew their stuff, confident and aware. Testosterone must pervade the very walls. He’d chosen men like himself and managed to lead them. Pride and lust warred for supremacy in her belly, nudging aside her initial annoyance with her man for protecting her. But it didn’t totally conquer her fear.

“Is something going on?” She lowered her voice and asked again.

“I am to watch over you.” Avoiding her question, the bugger. “Your friend will be back. She doesn’t like me, and she doesn’t approve of your connection with Dean. It makes her conflicted.”

Arrogant, intelligent
,
and
perceptive. She was surrounded. The appearance of Sandra, normally smooth stride jerky, distracted her.

Sandra spoke upon gaining the table. “I need to go. I’m working five days straight starting tomorrow, Amy. I need to get a few things done at home.”

Amy decided not to out her. If Sandra wanted to flee, go home and hunker down, she’d respect that, although it would have been interesting to see how Enrico managed the spa appointments set for the day after tomorrow. That she’d now have to cancel. She and her friend would have had a chat by then, so it still might be on, but right now, Amy was willing to hunker down, too. Enrico’s scant sharing had reminded her of her choice—to be with a man who was in the business of acquiring enemies. They picked up their purchases and filed through the tables, the handsome man a silent shadow behind them.

****

The meat was perfect. Charred on the outside, bloody within. Dean cut a chunk and speared a piece of potato on the end of the tines before putting in it in his mouth. Amy hadn’t said anything about Enrico, who had given him the heads up as soon as he saw Amy home safely. Waiting for her reaction was impacting a great meal. Chewing and swallowing, marking the subtle spices she used on the food, he broached the subject.