Marriage by Mistake (19 page)

Jaw clenched, he put one hand over hers. He
moved it down from his tie. But that didn't really help. As she
looked up at him he could feel heat spread from his center out to
his extremities. But, fine. That didn't mean he was going to get
carried away
. He could kiss her and stop at that. In fact,
he could make it a very short kiss. He had that much control.

He put his free hand on her cheek and bent
his face to hers. They would touch lips, he decided. That defined a
kiss. And it wouldn't be cowardly to leave it at that.
Simply...prudent. His face lowered. Mouth touched mouth.

At the contact of his flesh to hers an
incredible sensation rushed through Dean. A tidal wave, a volcano,
a hurricane.

But still... He could pull back. He could
stop there, as Kelly had taunted him that he couldn't. Even against
a hurricane he could maintain control. But Dean didn't pull back.
His lips stayed pressed against Kelly's.

He waited for the hurricane to pass, but
there was no attenuation. On the contrary, the sensation grew
wilder. More out of control. Dean felt his lips move against
hers.

Oh, her lips were soft, pliant, amazingly
giving beneath the savagery growing inside him. Then she
moaned.

It was the merest sound, like a kitten's mew.
But it made Dean breathe in hard and feel even more barbaric. He
moved closer. God, he couldn't stop    feeling. It was
   overpowering. His grip on her tightened and his mouth
got fierce.

Kelly melted under this assault. Gulping in
air, Dean squeezed her yet closer. His hands moved up and down her
back.

He needed to stop. This was getting
completely out of hand. He felt positively ablaze. But instead of
stopping, he deepened the kiss, using his tongue. He slipped one
hand beneath her shirt.

"The door." It was a hoarse whisper from
Kelly, only possible because Dean had relinquished her mouth for
her neck.

"Hmm?" Dean's seeking fingers found the
nipple riding the softness of her breast. That wonderful nipple was
taut and aroused, like himself.

"The door," she croaked, arching backward.
"It's not locked."

Dean's busy fingers halted. The door, not
locked. But    locking the door would mean he was
committed, that he was going to proceed with this madness. That he
wasn't going to stop.

And he
was
going to stop...

In just a minute.

Meanwhile...he nipped her ear. She gasped.
The sound, the way her body jerked in response, pushed a roll of
pleasure through him. He heard an animal sound come out of his
throat.

Stop
, a voice whispered, very dim, and
far away. Dean ignored it. He leaned back, hitting his desk. But
rather than distancing himself from Kelly, he pulled her with him,
hip pressed to hip. In the moment of sway, while her shoulders were
back, he pushed up her shirt.

Her breasts were a beautiful sight, aroused,
as his fingers had discovered already, the nipples large and pink.
Growling, Dean lowered his mouth.

She moaned again, louder than that kitten
thing, and her fingers dug into his shoulders. Dean couldn't get
enough of her. She tasted
so good
. He suckled hard, not the
delicate dance he usually played, tantalizing, in control. This was
crazy, like wildfire, ferocious.

She shoved her pelvis against him. "The
door," she said again, a soft wail.

Dean flailed back with one hand. The
intercom. It took a minute to find the button, as he refused to let
his mouth leave Kelly's breast.

"Yes, Mr. Singleton?" Mrs. Barnes' fluty
tones swept into the room.

Dean forced his lips from Kelly's nipple. "No
interruptions."

"Yes, Mr.    " Mrs. Barnes' voice
cut off as Dean released his hand from the intercom. He moved that
hand to Kelly's rear.

"This is    " Kelly's words ended
on a groan as Dean palmed her bottom. Head thrown back, she began
circling her hips against his.

This was crazy, insane, but Dean was beyond
caring. It had been building for some time    from the
moment she'd first burst through his conference room door three
weeks ago, in fact, and he was through fighting it. God help him
but they were going to finish this. Holding her hips close to his,
he turned them both so that she was the one leaning against the
desk.

Kelly understood what he wanted, parting her
legs so she could wrap them around him. Dean drew in a deep breath
and took her mouth again. Tongue plundering, he leaned her all the
way down, her back flat on his desk. The Robertson report
scattered. A pen holder fell. As finely sharpened pencils rolled
onto the floor, Dean put his hand under Kelly's skirt.

Her panties, well, there was hardly anything
to them. All he had to do was push a scrap of lace to one side and
there she was. A crisp curl of hair and then a wet and warm
softness.

"Dean!" Her whole body convulsed.

She was so wet, so hot and utterly inviting.
And the way she responded    it was beyond Dean's
experience. A woman needed more than what he was giving her, which
was simply him taking whatever he wanted. He should slow down,
behave like a gentleman, but she opened her legs and shoved against
him. He gasped against her mouth. She
liked
this. She wanted
more
.

He nipped the edge of her jaw, then sucked on
her neck. Meanwhile his finger flicked gently, making her jerk. At
her responsive motion, Dean couldn't let his mouth linger at her
neck, though he should have. He should have prolonged the pleasure,
used control. Instead he slid between her legs. Holding her scrap
of panties to one side, he applied his tongue.

She screamed. Well, not out loud. It was a
between-the-teeth and in-the-throat kind of scream. As if she were
doing her best to restrain herself    and failing. Dean
felt an access of pleasure and pride. Despite his greed, he was
driving her crazy, sending her right through the ceiling.

She moaned and thrashed her head from side to
side. Dean used his shoulder to hold up her thigh and moved his
hand to one pink nipple. Lightly, he pinched.

Her hips bucked and then her whole body
jerked and shuddered. Above his shoulder, Dean could feel heat
suddenly flush her body. "Enough," she whispered, and pushed his
head.

Dean looked up and felt a surge in his own
engorgement. Yes, she'd come. Very nicely, too. Her hair was
tousled and her face a rose blush; her breasts were the same blush
color, and more erect than ever. He barely had time to enjoy this
achievement, though, before she sat up and pushed him back.

He landed in one of the visitor chairs. She
leaned toward him with a lopsided smile. Dean had a split second to
anticipate, his own skin flushing, before she reached for his
fly.

"Oh, yes." It came out of his mouth like an
oath, low and gritty.

Slowly, teasingly, Kelly drew down his
zipper. Dean felt tight enough to burst. Kelly seemed to realize
it, too. She pulled back, ratcheting up the anticipation. Then she
threw one of those sleek legs over the armrest of Dean's chair. His
palm went to her thigh. He could feel the capable muscles there.
His own muscles leaped at this indication of female strength. Then
with one hand on Dean's shoulder for balance, she threw her other
leg over the opposite armrest.

Dean drew in a long breath. She was above him
now, open and ready. Oh, his fingers remembered just how ready.

With a faint smirk, she dipped her hand into
the tiny pocket of her miniskirt. Dean watched, lashes low, as she
pulled forth a slim single-package condom. He almost laughed. Well,
at least he didn't have to admit he had one in his front pocket,
too. Not because he'd wanted anything to happen between them, but
because he'd surrendered to the reality of his own weakness. A
weakness he was experiencing in all its glory at that moment.

Indeed, he was beyond self-recrimination as
he watched Kelly rip the plastic outer wrap with her teeth. He felt
like a powerful engine, a jet revving as it waited to rush down the
runway. Dean forced himself to keep waiting, though he hissed out a
breath as Kelly rolled the thin plastic down his shaft. Her fingers
drove his engine so much the faster. And then she was hiking
herself closer along the chair arms. It was time for take-off. Dean
took hold of her hips and clenched his teeth.

The feel of her closing over him, tight, hot,
wet    He was going to start speeding down the runway.
No, he didn't think he could stay still a moment longer.

"Move!" she whispered.

Dean closed his eyes and moved. He moved
hard, he moved fast. It was too hard, too fast, but he couldn't
stop himself. He was flying down the runway. Only he wanted
  

"More," she muttered.

Dean's eyes shot open. Had she read his mind?
He grabbed onto her bottom. He pushed harder. But still
  

"Deeper." Her voice was a harsh growl.

Dean didn't know how to bring it any deeper,
not in the position they were in. Clutching her close, he stood up.
Kelly moaned. The sweat popped out in beads on Dean's forehead as,
still holding Kelly tight, he laid her flat on the floor.

The carpet was nice and thick, something to
sink into. Kelly looked up at him with deliberate challenge and
spread her knees wide. Dean arched his back and drove into her.

Oh yes, this was better, definitely closing
the connection between them. Dean drove in again and again, urgent
to complete the union. Kelly's head moved from one side to the
other.

"More," she said.

By this time Dean was pushing her across the
floor in six-inch increments. His blood was on fire, every muscle
in his body straining with need. Oh, it was as if she'd been made
just for his own personal sin.

"More," Kelly demanded.

Her head bumped into the couch, the couch
that was on the opposite side of the room from where they'd
started. "Deeper," Kelly moaned.

With a sharp hiss, Dean pulled out of her.
She moaned again, this time in protest. He ignored that as he took
her limp body, lifted it, then bent her forward onto the seat of
the leather couch. He pushed her skirt up and drew her panties to
the side. She groaned low as he came into her from behind. "Oh
yes," she breathed, pushing back. "Yes."

Dean was beyond hearing. The pleasure was
excruciating now. He gripped her hips, moving fast, moving hard,
taking himself exactly where he wanted to go. He wasn't even
thinking about her, except as that part of himself he needed.

Needed
.

Finally, he could feel the pleasure come to
its absolute crest, the exquisite pain-point of release. At the
same moment she seemed to come apart in his hands.

He rode the wave, out of control,
rudder-less. Meanwhile his chest expanded to the point he thought
it would burst.

My God
, Dean thought.
My God, my
God, my God
. Never, ever had he imagined it would be like this,
so    so    Murmuring wordlessly, he folded
himself over her back and put his arms around to hold her close.
Together, they slid to the floor.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

They decided not to go home.

"Troy, Robby, a bevy of servants," Dean said,
after the second time in his office. Panting, he handed Kelly her
shirt. "We'll get a hotel room." Then he looked at her and added,
"Now."

Kelly wiggled back into her clothes. As she
trotted with Dean past the dragon outside his office, she tried her
best to look as if she hadn't been tumbled twice in the past half
hour. Judging by the expression on Mrs. Barnes' face, Kelly wasn't
too successful.

Dean didn't seem to care. With Kelly's hand
firmly clasped in his own, he led her the few city blocks from his
office to the Parker House. Classy place. But no sooner were they
upstairs and in their hotel room then they were attacking each
other's clothes again.

It went on like that for the rest of the
afternoon. Rolling over the bed and onto the floor; panting, hot,
and entwined. It was crazy. It was wonderful. Kelly couldn't get
enough of him. Better yet, Dean couldn't get enough of her. Oh, it
was as if a dam had broken.

He was finally letting go.

Yes, later in the dusk and lying in Dean's
arms, Kelly smugly assumed she had managed to break through. Dean
was reaching out for what he wanted and needed.

And what he wanted and needed was her.

Smiling, Kelly caressed his toe with her own.
"Say," she said with a yawn. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Does it matter?"

"No." Kelly's smile widened. It didn't matter
in the slightest, except that Dean Singleton didn't care what time
it was. She abandoned her warm spot and lifted onto her palms to
look down at him.

The lights from downtown Boston drifted
through the sheer curtains over the window and illumined one half
of his face. It was a fabulous face; sharply cut features, deep
intelligence, profound passion. It was the face of a man she'd come
to know much, much better that afternoon. His lashes were low as he
returned her gaze.

A sensation like honey flowed through Kelly;
warm, complete, and unutterably tender. "Hmm." She smiled and
tapped his chin.

All right, the feeling was love. She'd been
in love with him since    well, probably since he'd first
flown back to Las Vegas to apologize. She just hadn't realized it.
How could she have? He kept the real him, the all-of-him, so well
hidden. Now she leaned down and gave him a kiss as a laugh escaped
her.

Dean's eyebrows raised.

"I was just thinking    " She bit
the inside of her cheek. "This sure has been a revelation."

"Indeed."

"Uh huh." With a grin, Kelly lowered her chin
onto his chest. "You are quite...inventive."