Falling for Fate (29 page)

There was a dark promise lacing his words and Fate was pretty sure he wasn’t referring to food anymore.

“Behave yourself, Mr. Maxwell,” she warned.

Dean’s eyes met hers, the dark promise from before turning into a guarantee. “Not this weekend, Ms. Buchanan. This weekend, I can assure you I will be doing the opposite of behaving myself.”

Tingles of anticipation ran a circuit beneath her skin. “I see. So we’re just going to go for it then? No cost-benefit analysis needed?”

He’d been about to show her the master bedroom down the hall, but he changed paths and whirled around, backing her against the wall. “How about, instead of our usual measures of efficiency, I just base my behavior on how loud I can make you moan my name? That work for you?”

Fate swallowed and nodded. Clearly, he’d dropped the professional, polite façade they had to maintain at the office. This weekend was theirs to do with as they pleased.

“Any chance you brought that red tie?”

Dean’s hooded gaze widened. “Why, Ms. Buchanan, I had no idea you were so adventurous. I’ll make myself a note to pack it next time.”

Smiling up at him, Fate breathed him in. Would there be a next time? She nudged him out of her personal space. “So what’s next on this tour?”

Dean chuckled low in her ear as he led her to the bedroom. “Patience, pretty lady. We’re almost finished.”

He’d been speaking lightly, meaning that the tour was almost finished. She knew that. But the truth was that all they really had was tonight and tomorrow. On Sunday, they’d head back to the city and this would be over. They’d barely begun, yet he was right—they were almost finished. Fate swallowed the tinge of regret this knowledge caused and added it to the ball of jealousy she’d buried a few minutes ago.

“So this is the bedroom. There’s another one upstairs, but I leave that part of the house to guests and my father.”

There was an edge to the way he said ‘father,’ but Fate didn’t press. She just eyed the enormous bed with midnight blue, satin sheets and a folded, white down comforter. More light and dark contrasts like the rest of the house. It was sexy and inviting. The images of what she hoped would happen in that bed distracted her from whatever Dean was saying about spa jets in the en suite bathroom tub.

“Last thing,” Dean said, moving toward balcony doors. “Then we can grab some dinner…or whatever you feel like doing.”

After opening the French balcony doors, Dean stepped outside onto the deck that overlooked an infinity pool and the shoreline.

“How very…quaint,” Fate said not bothering to hide her sarcasm. Pretentious yet gorgeous was how she really viewed the house. Other than the bedroom, it didn’t really feel like Dean. Someone else had obviously decorated.

“Yes, I’m aware.” Dean placed both hands on her shoulders and moved her several steps to the left.

“What are you doing?” She shuffled along until she was closer to the doors that led back inside to the living room.

“Here.” Dean stood behind her, turning her body until she was facing the ocean. The sun had sunk onto the horizon and the sky was growing darker by the second.

“Here what?” She angled her neck so she could look over her shoulder at her.

“I was standing in this exact spot when I saw a beautiful woman running down the beach.”

The air left her lungs. She felt as if the only things holding her upright were Dean’s hands on her shoulders. She could still remember that woman—the one she’d been when she’d taken off running down the beach believing her life was over.

“Any chance you’re going to tell me what you were running from?”

She didn’t answer, just shook her head no and stared at the shoreline. She could almost see the ghost of that woman herself. That woman was gone and Fate had no desire to bring her back to life. That woman was weak and easily wounded.

Before Dean could attempt to ask for further details, a musical chime sounded, reverberating through the inside of the house and making its way to them on the deck.

Fate pulled her gaze from the ocean and raised an eyebrow.

“Doorbell,” he said, answering the unasked question with a sigh.

She followed him to the living room and back toward the foyer. The attractive blonde from earlier stood on the other side of the door once he’d opened it.

Fate’s tiny ball of jealously grew from a tennis ball to softball-size. If the woman was going to keep coming back, Fate worried she’d soon have a bowling ball to contend with.

D
ean frowned at Brynn. Why she was back at his door after he’d plainly told her that he had company was beyond him. They’d hooked up a few times, but there’d never been any discussion or more than a convenient orgasm here and there.

“What can I do for you, Brynn?”

He kept his hand on the door to let her know that she wouldn’t be invited in. He didn’t want to be a dick, but for the love of God, why couldn’t the world just go away and let him have a fucking weekend already?

“I know you have company. I’m sorry to bother you, but I was worried that I’d upset you earlier.”

“No need to worry about me. I’m fine. Thank you.”
Or I will be when you go the hell away.

Brynn’s light-blue eyes clouded over. “Well, I’m not. I wanted to clarify so that I didn’t have to stress out all weekend about a misunderstanding.”

Dean inhaled until his chest expanded. “Whatever it is, it can wait. Don’t stress out. I don’t care if you—”

“I didn’t sleep with your father, Dean. That’s all I wanted to say. He was here alone and we had dinner with a lovely wine and some conversation. There. I just wanted you to know.”

He shouldn’t have cared, but there was a definite reduction of pressure in his chest. It wasn’t that he felt possessive of Brynn. Not even a little. But the idea of having had sex with someone who his dad had slept with was slightly vomit inducing. He didn’t want to be his father and he sure as hell didn’t want to share women with him.

“Good to know. Thank you—for telling me, I mean. Not for not…you know. You’re free to do whatever you like. With whomever you choose, of course.”

Brynn smiled at his lack of ease in articulation. “Uh huh. Thank you for the permission. And for the record, I think of myself as pretty sexually open, but the father-son thing is not on my bucket list.”

Dean briefly closed his eyes. Fate was close enough to have heard that. So now she knew that Brynn was a former lover whether he’d planned to tell her or not.

“Threesomes, however, are definitely on the list.”

Dean opened his eyes in time to see Brynn shoot Fate a wink over his shoulder.
Dear Jesus.

To his surprise, Fate grinned. And she looked…intrigued. Well, that had been unexpected.

The possessive monster in him growled. Fate was his. He’d waited this long to have her and no one else was getting so much as a sample until he’d had his fill. He didn’t know when that would be, but the thought of anyone—male or female—touching her or hearing those breathy moans of pleasure he’d dreamt of made his blood pressure rise to a dangerous level.

“We’ll keep that in mind. Have a good weekend, Brynn.” Without another thought of anyone except the beautiful brunette behind him, Dean let the door close.

“Not a fan of threesomes?” Fate asked with what he thought was feigned nonchalance.

“They’re all right. You a fan?”

Fate shrugged, still maintaining her air of calm despite the noticeable blush rising in her cheeks. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Well, if you decide you’d like to find out, I hope you’ll come to me first.”

The blush faded and the heat rose to her eyes. “That seems to be how I operate.”

Thank fuck.
He didn’t say it out loud, but he was glad for it.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about right now.” It wasn’t a request, so he didn’t try to make it seem like one.

“You,” she admitted softly. “I’m thinking about you.”

Dean drew in a breath, took two long steps until he reached her, and stopped just within touching distance. “What about me?”

Fate averted her eyes, but he couldn’t stand not seeing them. Without consciously deciding to, he placed two fingers under her chin until she looked up at him.

Once he pressed his gaze into hers, her thoughts fell from her lips. “I’m wondering why you want me here when you could have anyone you wanted. Your neighbor is ready and willing, not to mention convenient. Why work so hard to convince me to spend the weekend with you? I mean…” Her eyes darted from his and she licked her lips. “I guess I’m just wondering why
me
.”

He considered lying. He even considered changing the subject by stripping her naked and spreading her body out on the breakfast bar.

This weekend—and this weekend only, he decided— he’d be completely honest with her. About anything and everything that came up in conversation.

“Because we weren’t done, Fate. You know we weren’t.”

“Then what were we?”

Dean let his hands drop to her hips. “Just getting started.”

His mouth descended onto hers less than a second later. Once her lips were well acquainted with his, he pushed past the threshold and into her mouth. She was the perfect combination of sweet and savory that he’d been craving.

The gray curve-hugging dress she was wearing was reluctant to be peeled from her body, but he was tenacious. Once the material was over her head and bunched in his hands, he tossed it onto the couch and leaned back to admire Fate’s body. His eyes traveled down past the black, lace bra, the crotchless panties he’d sent her, and down to the fuck-me black stilettos that had taunted him day after day.

Fate moved to step out of them, but Dean halted her progress with a firm hand on her waist.

“Leave them on. If you care about me at all, for the love of all things holy, leave them on.”

Her lips tugged upward in a sheepish grin, and suddenly, the weekend didn’t feel long enough for all the things he wanted to do to her, for her, with her.

“How would you like me, Mr. Maxwell?”

His dick throbbed and strained against his zipper. And then something else happened in his pants. His motherfucking phone buzzed. Dean was struck by the impulse to pitch the thing into the ocean. He slipped it out of his pocked and tossed it in the same direction Fate’s dress had gone.

“Should you get that?” Judging from the impish expression on her face, she was teasing him.

“The next person or thing that interrupts us is getting thrown into the ocean.” He wasn’t kidding.

“Feels like the universe might be against us,” she said softly when his phone began buzzing incessantly on the couch where it had landed.

“Fuck the universe. Come.” Dean held out a hand, his heart speeding noticeably when she took it. He led her into his bedroom, where the balcony doors were still open. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

“You had a plan, did you?”

“Maybe.” He sure as hell did. One he’d been formulating since she’d disappeared on him in June.

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“I’d rather show you.” Dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed, Dean pulled her to him and placed a wet, openmouthed kiss on her stomach.

“Dean,” she breathed as she ran her fingers through his hair. “You’re still in your suit.”