Happily Even After Page 7

  She glanced up and frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “It seems like I’m the one bothering you.”

  “Well, you weren’t until you just said that.” Creigh pushed the papers to the side, fanning them out on the table. “I don’t see it. She must have saved it on the computer. I’ll go see if I can retrieve it from there. Sorry for the interruption.”

  “Not half as sorry as I am.” Because all she did was remind him of what he no longer had.

  Creigh’s head snapped back as if she’d been hit. “Trust me, I didn’t want to come over here any more than you wanted me to.”

  “Creigh, I sincerely doubt you have a clue about what I want.” Shaking her head, she went to move past him to leave, but Dean grabbed hold of her arm and spun her around until she was facing him. “But I’d be more than happy to show you.”

  Desperate to get a reaction from her that wasn’t cool indifference, Dean lowered his mouth over hers and kissed her.

  Chapter Five

  Despite herself, Creigh groaned as Dean swept his tongue boldly into her mouth, his lips demanding and unyielding. The familiar taste of him rocked her to her core. She didn’t want to enjoy the sensations, but her body betrayed her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed herself close to him.

  Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her in his strong arms and sat her down on the cluttered table. Creigh automatically opened her legs and pulled her skirt up frantically to make room for Dean to step between her splayed thighs. He wasted no time doing so, pressing his rapidly growing erection against the apex of her sex, all the while continuing to drive her to distraction with his tongue.

  Her heart raced from the contact of his hard, lean body and from the taste of his sweet lips. It had been so long since she’d felt his touch, she didn’t know how to act. In the past, she would have just jumped on him ninja-monkey-style, pushed him to the floor, and taken what she needed from him. But now the situation was so out of the ordinary it bordered on ridiculous. They were divorced, she was pregnant with some other man’s baby, and yet here she was, kissing him with all the passion she held inside her. If there was a level of hell filled with slutty women who made stupid mistakes, she would be their queen. But hell was hopefully eons away, so she wasn’t going to worry about it now. Instead she was going to live in the present and question her sanity later.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t take another second of his soul-searing kiss, Dean entangled his hand in her hair and pulled her head back so she was staring directly into his intense hazel eyes. “You’re putting on this big act, Creigh. This little ‘Miss Independent, I don’t need anybody’ act, but it doesn’t flow with me.”

  “I…” She reached her hand up behind her, grabbed his wrist, and tried to free herself from his overpowering hold. “It’s not an act. I don’t need…”

  Dean leaned forward and nipped at her lips. One nip for every word. “You.” Nip. “Need.” Nip. “Me.” He laved her plump bottom lip with his tongue before continuing once more. “Because I remember what you were like with the other kids. How you’d get moody at the drop of the hat. Crying one second, railing against me another,” he said in a husky voice. “But I also remember we found the best cure for your hormonal madness. All it took was a few long, hard strokes from my cock, and you were right as rain once more.”

  As much as Creigh would have loved to deny his words and throw them back in his face, she couldn’t. Dean was so right. Creigh had to have been the strangest pregnant person in the universe, because when she’d been carrying her oldest two, all she’d craved was sex. Some women wanted ice cream. She even had a friend who secretly craved dirt. Creigh wanted cock. Lots and lots of cock. And this time was no exception.

  She felt aroused all the time. There wasn’t a night that had gone by she hadn’t pleasured herself once or twice in a row just to be able to sleep. Her hormones were off the chart, so much so that during her first pregnancy, she’d talked to her doctor about the spike in her sex drive. The bastard had the nerve to smile and tell Dean just to enjoy it, because it wouldn’t last long. Three pregnancies seemed like an awful long time to her.

  “I’ve learned to adapt to singlehood. I can be right as rain in three minutes or less now, with half the mess.”

  His grip tightened in her hair. “And half the pleasure, I’m sure.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Really? Let’s find out.” Acting swiftly, he pushed her free-flowing peasant shirt down her shoulders and past her breasts, leaving the material bunched up above her elbows, effectively limiting just how much arm movement she would have. From the evil grin he sent her when she tested the bonds of the shirt, he knew exactly what he’d done.

  Once she was bound, Dean turned his attention to her breasts. With a predatory look in his eyes, he cupped her heavy mounds, running his thumbs over her nipples poking up underneath the lacy fabric of her plum-colored bra. The wired bra molded her large breasts just right, lifting her tender flesh high like a sacrificial offering.

  “Dean. This is a bad idea.” The tightness of her throat made her halfhearted protest sound even weaker. “We…we shouldn’t—”

  “The hell we shouldn’t.” His features were taut, his expression hot with desire. “Come, cara. Tell me how I compare to your Duracell-powered lover.” Dean pulled her bra straps halfway down her arms, then freed her breasts from their lacy confines. He nudged her back a bit, forcing her to use her hands to hold herself up. The new position made her breasts jut out vulgarly like a bow on a ship and caused Dean to growl in appreciation.

  Her nipples tightened under his stare, so responsive, so aroused yet so tender. But no matter how sensitive her breasts were, Creigh always enjoyed having them played with, sometimes intensely and for long amounts of time. Lucky for her, Dean was a breast man and loved nothing more than to spend hours with his lips surrounding her nipples.

  “God, I’d forgotten how perfect you are.” Leaning forward, he took her right nipple between his lips and suckled hard.

  Gasping, Creigh dropped her head, arched her back, and pushed her breasts up to him. He responded to her obvious pleasure by increasing the pressure with his mouth while using his fingers to twist and toy with the other. He teased and tormented her for a good ten minutes, making sure he gave both breasts the exact amount of pleasure-pain he knew she loved so much.

  Once he was done driving her to distraction, he released her nipples and pulled back. Drunk on pleasure, he went to work on her skirt, tugging the stretchy material up her hips and out of his way. Then without so much as a “do you mind?” he snagged her underwear and pulled it clear down her legs and to the floor.

  When he’d exposed every inch he wanted to see, he took her hand and held it against his compressed erection, tightening his hold on her hand so she was forced to squeeze his thick length. “Does your Duracell lover feel like that? Does he suck your nipples as hard and as long as you like, cara? Does he get you off like I do?” Instead of freeing himself and putting them both out of their misery, Dean pushed her hand away and took hold of her hips and jerked her to him.

  He lined her soaked slit against his jutting bulge and pressed against her. “Tell me again that I want you out of my hair. I dare you.”

  “I…can’t.”

  “Because it’s not true. I always want you. Always.” He pressed himself against her hot core, rubbing his covered shaft against her pussy as she undulated under him. The intense pressure felt so good, she couldn’t help but moan and arch her hips, wordlessly begging for more. She ground herself against him, coating the bulge of his pants with her sticky juices.

  The speed at which she fell into his embrace almost embarrassed her. Almost. But it wasn’t enough for her to push him away. Not when this was what she wanted. In fact, the only thing that would make it better would be to have him inside her. Nevertheless, he knew her too well, knew how to touch her to bring her over the edge. One last hard push of his covered cock across her cl
it was all she needed.

  Swallowing a scream, she threw her head back and tightened her legs around him as mind-blowing pleasure rushed over her. The climax hit her hard and fast, and she cried out, dropping down to her elbows to brace her weight.

  Dean wasted little time. Before she’d even begun to come down from her orgasmic high, he scooted her forward a bit and went to work on his pants buckle and zipper. Creigh licked her lips and looked at him hungrily. This was the moment she’d been waiting for, the moment when he would finally make her his again.

  With frantic hands, Dean pushed his zipper down, then reached in and took hold of his cock. He was in the process of pulling his dick free when her cell phone chirped. Dean froze instantly, and in unison they both turned their heads and gazed at her purse on the counter. Creigh barely remembered bringing the brown bag in with her, but there it was, bold as day. Neither of them said a word as the phone rang again and again.

  It was like a bad dream. Creigh couldn’t think of a worse position to be in or a worse time for someone to call. That thought, however, brought to mind the reason she was there, and unfortunately it wasn’t to get fucked. “Harlow,” she whispered.

  The one word worked like magic to rouse Dean into action. “Son of a bitch.” He cursed under his breath and whirled away from her. She watched him move to the sink and grip the edge like a lifeline. He was as taut as a bow, and she couldn’t blame him one bit.

  With trembling hands she sat up and fixed her bra and shirt, all the while keeping an eye on Dean, who was as still as stone and twice as quiet. A few strained seconds passed, with only the sound of their labored breathing and that of the persistent caller to fill the silence.

  Unable to think of anything to say, other than fuck, fuck, fuck, Creigh eased down off the table and pushed her skirt back into place. While she repaired her clothing, Dean did the same, then walked stiffly to her bag and retrieved it for her. As he made his way back to her, she noted he hadn’t buttoned and zipped up, only shoved his cock back inside his boxers. The long, thick shaft was as evident behind the denim material as it had been pressed against her heated sex.

  Wordlessly, he handed her bag to her, then stepped back and winced, his hand immediately going to adjust his groin. He didn’t attempt to zip his pants back up, and for that Creigh was thankful. It would be terrible for him to accidentally injure a cock as nice and big as his. Hell, she considered it a miracle he was able to stifle his large erection behind the wall of his boxers.

  “Thank you.” Creigh accepted her purse, then dug around in it for her cell. It took only a few seconds for her to find it, and when she did she glanced down at the number for a brief second to reassure herself they hadn’t stopped in vain before pressing the Talk key.

  “Hello.”

  “Mom.” There was a long pause on the other end. “Is that you?”

  Even to Creigh’s own ears, her voice sounded strange. “Yes.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m here.”

  “Did you find it?”

  “No, not at our house or”—Creigh glanced back at Dean, who was intently watching her—“your dad’s.”

  “Aw man.”

  She could hear Harlow growing upset. “Did you save it on the computer? Maybe I can print up another copy.”

  “Mom, you’re a genius.”

  Smart was the last thing Creigh was feeling right now. “I’ll go home and print up a new one now.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “I know.” Harlow seemed so pleased. Well, that made one of them. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Bye.”

  Creigh severed the connection and slipped the phone back into her purse before raising her head to stare at Dean. Their gazes locked, and Creigh licked her lips, still tasting him on her. If the phone had only rung ten minutes later, she could have slaked her unappeased lust on Dean’s delicious cock. Just the thought of having him pound the walls of her pussy agai—

  “If you don’t stop looking at me like that,” he warned in a dangerously soft tone, “I’m going to put you right back on that table and finish what we started, and to hell with Harlow’s paper.”

  “No. Don’t say that.” Creigh’s cheeks heated, but she looked away, not wanting them to get into any more trouble than what they already were. “She’ll get a failing grade.”

  Dean let out a sharp bark of laughter that sounded far from amused. “Ask me if I care right now.”

  “One of us has to.” Lord knew she was having a hard time making that person be her.

  “Do you?” His tone dared her to lie.

  It was a challenge she couldn’t accept. Not when the truth was so evident. “I’m trying very, very hard to pretend like I do.” Creigh bent over and picked up her discarded underwear. “I…I…have to go.”

  To her immense relief, Dean didn’t try to stop her. Creigh didn’t think she could have stayed strong if he did. Next to signing her divorce papers, walking out of Dean’s house was the hardest thing she’d ever done. But then, just as now, she did it, regretfully and wondering if she was making the worst mistake of her life.

  ———

  Dean pulled the car into the driveway of his old house and quietly cut the engine off. Staring up at the home where his family slept, played, lived, and loved without him wasn’t easy. It hadn’t been the other two times he’d come out this week or the four the week before or even the two the week before that. In fact, since their separation there hadn’t been one week Dean hadn’t made a drive-by to see his family. Sometimes he parked across the street and just stared. Others he just drove by slowly to make sure all was right in his loved ones’ world.

  Leaving the keys in the ignition, Dean picked up his cell phone off the passenger’s seat and dialed Creigh’s cell-phone number by heart. He cut his gaze to his wristwatch. It was only a bit after ten. She was more than likely still up. It took a few rings before she picked up. “Hello.”

  “Hey.”

  “Dean.” Her voice was husky as if he’d wakened her from a deep sleep. That was strange. Creigh normally was a night owl. Maybe the new baby was making her tired. “Dean, are you there? I can’t hear you.”

  “Yeah.” Dean cleared his throat, then spoke up. “Sorry if I woke you.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping.”

  Her reply brought back the other memory of the one thing that could make her sound all husky this late at night. “Did I catch you during? Or after?”

  “I’m hanging up.” He could hear her embarrassment over the line.

  “Hmmm.” Her nonanswer said it all. “Right in the middle. Nice.”

  “Maybe for you. But not for me. Being interrupted twice in one day is just cruel.”

  “At least you got to come,” he reminded her softly.

  “It wasn’t enough.”

  “Never is.” Dean looked up at the master-bedroom window that faced the street and smiled. “I remember how it sometimes took hours on hours of fucking just to get you to the stage where you could finally go to sleep.”

  Her breath hitched. “Saying things like that doesn’t help.”

  Dean grinned. “Sorry.”

  “Liar. I’m surprised to hear from you.”

  “Did you really think I was going to let you escape from me after what went down in the kitchen?”

  “Think, no.” She laughed softly. “Hoped, yes. Things got out of hand.”

  “And you ran.”

  “And you let me.”

  “I don’t think you would have been”—Dean paused, searching for the right word—“prepared for me to come after you. I was too riled up. Too tense. Five more minutes and I would have been fucking my frustration out on you.”

  “I think…” Creigh cleared her throat. “I think you mean taking your frustration.”

  “No, I said what I meant.”

  He heard Creigh inhale sharply before continuing in a much more subdued voice. “Then it’s a good thing I ran.”

  “I’m not so sur
e about that. You running makes me want to chase after you and finish exactly what we started. And whether you want to admit it or not, it would have felt damn good.”

  “I’m woman enough to agree with you. Hell, Dean, we were always good in bed.”

  Dean thought of their children, nestled in for the night. “We did some of our best work there.”

  “Yeah, we did.” Turning the conversation to their kids brought out a smile in her voice. “They’re asleep, by the way, in case you wanted to talk to them.”

  “No, I called to talk to you.”

  “Me?” The surprise in her voice was a bit amusing.

  “Yes, you.” Dean leaned back in his seat. “In fact, why don’t you just open the door and come outside, and we can finish this conversation face-to-face.”

  “Outside?”

  “Yes, I’m parked in the driveway.”

  “Are you kidding me?” She gasped. Before he could reply, Dean heard the sound of her feet pitter-pattering across the creaky wooden floor. Seconds later the curtains parted, and Creigh’s face appeared in the window. “What in the world are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “Mission accomplished.”

  Not really. As far as he could tell, there was only one lamp on in the bedroom, and it wasn’t casting a very revealing light on her, much to his dismay. “I want to see more of you. Come out.”

  “It’s the middle of the night,” she reminded him unnecessarily. “The kids are light sleepers, remember?”

  “Then you better be quiet. Also, keep on whatever it is you’re wearing.”

  “What game are you playing?”

  He smiled. “Come find out. Olly olly oxen free.”

  “Dea—”

  He could hear her protesting, but he hung up nevertheless. He knew Creigh well enough to know she would be too intrigued not to come see for herself why he was there.

  Less than a minute later, the front door swung open, and on cue Creigh stepped out and quietly closed the door behind her. Barefoot and dressed only in a long-sleeved, button-up shirt that reached midthigh, she quietly made her way over to the Impala. Her dark brown hair fluttered around her shoulders as she quickly made her way to him. She stopped in front of the hood and ran her hand over the new paint job that had his baby shining like spit-polished shoes. Shaking her head, she rounded the car to the passenger side. After giving a quick glance around her, she opened the door and climbed in.