He had made a promise to her to wait until the wedding night but was wondering what on earth had possessed him to make such an insane promise. But he knew what it was. His decadent past had prompted his eagerness, or rather his willingness to make this different. He had used and discarded women in his life; he wanted to do the right thing. He owed her that much.
"All right." Shoving the disappointment aside, she started to rise, but he held her back.
"The wedding cannot come soon enough, which reminds me." He had to take his mind off her delectable body pressing against his, and what he was about to say would certainly do the trick. "Mother and Irene want to meet you for lunch to go over the menu and such." His eyes met hers squarely. "I'm fine with Irene, but my mother is toxic. She insists on having her own way and I don't want her influencing your decision."
She gave him a patient look as she brushed her fingers over his jaw that had suddenly tensed up.
"I think you should know by now that I'm not easily influenced by anything or anyone. I can handle your mother."
His hand gripped her wrist, expression intent. "You think you can, but I can promise you that you've never met anyone like her. She's vindictive and likes to get her own way. She would have preferred someone from our society, the type of woman she can mold into her own image. The fact that you're not is going to work against you. She's going to try and discredit you every chance she gets. I'm not going to allow anyone to hurt you."
She smiled at him, feeling the warmth settling inside her.
She had become so accustomed to fending for herself, especially since her mother died, that having someone do so now felt strange. "And I appreciate that; you have no idea how much,"she told him softly. "But I'll be fine, and in case it gets to the point where it's not, I'll call you."
"Promise?"
"I promise. Now kiss me goodbye."
"I'd better not." Tilting her chin up, he kissed her forehead and firmly put her aside before rising. As if sensing he was leaving, Galahad roused himself from his slumber and sprang up, making his way over to rub himself against Dean's hip.
"I think he likes you more than me now."
Dean grinned, leaning down to rub the thick fur. "That's because I buy him expensive treats. Dogs are so materialistic and fickle." He looked up at her. "Walk me out?"
Snapping her fingers at Galahad, she waited for the dog to detach himself from Dean's body before grabbing her jacket and heading for the door.
The moon was a big orb in a velvety blue sky when they got outside. Leaning on the door, Dean opened his thighs and pulledher between them, content to just stay that way, with his arms wrapped around her slender frame.
"Two weeks," he whispered, his chin on top of her head.
"I can't wait," she whispered into his chest.
"Can't you, my sweet?" His amused voice was tinged with tenderness and sent flutters throughout her body. Shifting, he tucked his thumb and forefinger under her chin to search her expression. "Any regrets?"
"None," she answered immediately.
"Good. Because the fleeting thought I had of letting go of you is now null and void. If you've changed your mind, know that I intend to hold you to your decision to stay."
"Noted." Her eyes danced as she gazed at him. "It just might be fun marrying someone so infamous."
He chuckled, amazed that she had this kind of effect on him. She settled him, that is, when he was not going crazy with desire for her. She had the kind of influence that managed to calm his restless soul. He admired her and thought she was the sweetest,strongest and most honorable person he had ever met. In his world, except for a few of his friends and acquaintances, words like love and lust were intermingled and used only to get ahead.
"I hope you think that after." His thumb caressed her bottom lip. His touch on her flesh sent heat fluttering inside her stomach.
His eyes darkened at the look on her face, and he felt an answering reaction to her desire.
"Catherine-"
"I love when you kiss me," she breathed. "I never told you that I'm an incurable romantic."
"No, you never did." His breathing was becoming unstable.
"I adore a good love story and have heaps of books about the conflicts and trials of love on my Kindle. Shakespeare is a particular favorite of mine, and of course Byron. I often dreamed about finding someone who could stir me to the point of no return. You're that one."
"Sweetheart-" He had to take a breath before he could continue. "If your intention is to make things extremely hard for me,you've accomplished that goal." Wrapping his hand around her waist, he brought her flush against him to prove his point. He was rigid. "You cannot say those things to me and expect me to be unaffected. Or was that your plan? To get me hot and bothered and send me off to my empty apartment?"
"No." She lifted a hand to brush back a lock of lustrous blonde hair that had fallen over his forehead. "It's my plan to speak what's on my mind." Going on her toes, she brushed her lips against his. "And to feel your lips on mine."