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Dean barely noticed when the song ended and another, slower tune started up. All his concentration was on the softness of the woman beneath his hands. He wanted to feel the satin of her skin. He wanted the dress gone. “It’d be nice if you would, yeah.”
She shook her head and turned in his arms. “That isn’t a good idea.”
When she wrapped her arms around his neck, Dean wanted to shout in triumph. She wasn’t melting against him, but it was still a damn sight better than a knee to the crotch. “Not even if it’s what we both need? What we both want?”
She looked over his shoulder, and several seconds passed before she said, “You don’t understand.”
He took hold of her chin and urged her gaze back to his. “Then help me understand.”
“Dean, I’m not the type to give in to my wishes and wants,” she explained. “Flights of fancy aren’t me.”
He nudged her legs apart so he could wedge one of his between them. When he felt her shudder, he grinned. “Don’t you ever allow desire to rule the show every once in a while, sweetheart?”
She shrugged. “Not when those desires stand in the way of what is most important.”
Dean smoothed a palm down her hair, enjoying the silky texture. “And going home with me, letting me make you feel good, that stands in the way, huh?”
“Yes,” she muttered, “because you don’t trust me, and I can’t go to bed with someone who doesn’t trust me. Besides the fact you’re going to be Gracie’s brother-in-law soon.”
“You’re Little Miss Practical, I get it. Hell, I admire a quality like that in a woman.” His hand moved down her back until he was barely grazing her ass. “And you’re listing all the right reasons why we shouldn’t get involved. But none of it matters, not right now. Only you and I matter.” He coasted his hand lower until he felt one rounded buttock beneath his palm. “Can you honestly tell me that you don’t want me? That you don’t feel the chemistry between us?”
“Yes, I feel it,” she ground out. “But it scares me. You scare me.”
He hadn’t expected such a strong response, and he certainly didn’t want her afraid of him. “Why? I thought we already established that I’d never hurt you?”
“Actually I believe you said that if I hurt your family you’d do far worse.” He started to speak, but she held up a hand, halting him. “That’s not the point though. I’m leaving in a week, Dean. Getting involved now would be insane.”
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He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, then whispered, “So, take what you can get of me. Get your fill, sweetheart. Before it’s too late.”
The song ended then, and Dean watched her take a deep breath before looking up at him. She seemed to be studying him, and it made Dean uncomfortable. Her silent intensity washed over him. Catherine’s green eyes held so many secrets, and Dean wasn’t sure if he’d ever learn them all. The only thing he knew for certain was that she did things to him. Things no other woman had been able to do in a long time.
Dean dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers briefly, then murmured, “I want you in my bed. I want so many damn things, Catherine, but if it really isn’t what you want, then tell me and I’ll leave you alone. You have my word.”
Catherine dropped her head to his chest and muttered something against his shirt. He wrapped his hands around her upper arms and pulled her off him. “What did you say?”
“I said, I do want you.”
It dawned on Dean that the music had changed, the tempo was faster, the romantic tune was gone, but the mood was still there. He was still as edgy, still as ready, and Catherine was still standing in front of him, staring at him as if she wasn’t sure whether to run in fear or surrender to the passion arcing between them. And Dean wasn’t about to leave it to chance.
He took her face in his palms and touched his mouth to her soft lips. She moaned, and the sound went straight to his cock. The people surrounding them dancing to the music were forgotten. Her taste was like honey, and he wanted it. Craved it. Nothing was going to stand in his way of getting a great big helping of it either.
9
As Dean nudged her lips apart and delved inside, Catherine caved. She should’ve guessed that the man played dirty. Of course, she hadn’t really expected him to ask her to go home with him either. Geez, one minute he acted as if she was a nuisance, and the next he was making love to her mouth. Catherine thought she heard someone whimper. It took her a moment to realize the sounds were coming from her. She knew without a doubt that if she didn’t pull away he’d be able to have her right there on the dance floor. She wasn’t into public displays of affection, so why wasn’t she pulling away? Simple, her mind had taken a leave. Her libido now ruled the show.
She was giving in too easily and she knew it. So much for the thrill of the chase or putting up a little resistance. The knowledge that she was acting completely out of character should’ve had her yanking herself out of his arms. Instead she moved closer, bringing their bodies into full contact. She could smell his strong, masculine scent, and it was delicious. The rigid length of his cock was a heavy weight between them. She wanted more of him. She wanted to know what his muscled chest felt like beneath her curious hands. She ached to run her tongue over his salty skin.
Catherine understood now what it was about a man that made women lose their heads. It was that all-too-enthralling maleness. Dean’s aggressive attitude, the way he’d swooped in and all but ordered her to come home with him, it’d hadn’t been a turnoff. She’d liked it. For the first time in her life, Catherine imagined surrendering to a man. She wondered what it’d be like to let Dean have complete control.
She ran her tongue over his lips and felt his body stiffen. Rising up on her tiptoes, she took a better taste, licking and nibbling at him as if he were a candy bar. Catherine raked her fingers through his hair and groaned. God, she loved his hair, so thick and soft.
When she angled her head, deepening the touch, Dean tore his mouth from hers. “Home,” he growled against her open mouth.
Apparently he’d had enough of the PDA. The idea of being alone with Dean scared her a little though. He was so intense, and Catherine wasn’t sure she could handle him. “I’m scared,” she admitted.
He shook his head and frowned down at her. “You don’t—”
