His thick brows lifted. "You're good and sweet inside and therefore you want to see the good in others. Stop looking for it in my parents, they're rotten to the core."
"They might be seeing other people..."
His harsh laughter had her pausing. "That's a very polite way of putting it. They're both sluts and so was I." He shrugged. "I learned from the best."
"Have you changed?" Her soft inquiry had him gazing down at her. She had reached home ahead of him because he had been caught up in a project he had started. It was something he had been discussing with his father and the board, something he had wanted to do for years now, but hadn't felt led to do so. But nowthat he was going to be a married man and, hopefully, a father in the distant future, he wanted to be productive.
She was wearing a sarong-style cotton dress that sagged in the center, leaving her throat bare. The color was a deep russet and looked great against her caramel complexion. Her hair was loose, the coils tumbling around her small face. She wasn't wearing a stitch of makeup and looked like a teenager.
And he wanted her so much, he could practically taste it.
"Time will tell," he murmured. "I just know that ever since I met you, I cannot look at another woman." He trailed a finger down her cheek. Galahad had tired himself out chasing squirrels and had taken up his position near Dean's feet, shaggy head resting on his Italian loafers. "That thoughts of you consume me." His voice had dropped and turned hoarse. "That I dream of you every single night and wake up hard. It's a recurring dream where I make love to you, labor over your delectable body until the rosy pink of dawn streaks the sky. And it was still not enough."
His hand cupped the back of her neck, long fingers caressing the skin. He felt her shiver and his eyes darkened at the look in her beautiful eyes.
"It's like a sickness, a fever inside me."
"Dean..."
"Shh." He brushed his lips over hers, tasting the warmth and the scent of the coffee she had been drinking. "I tell myself that I can wait, that I can keep my promise to you and wait until the wedding night. I want to." His tongue teased her bottom lip and then started to nibble. "But it's getting more and more difficult. Feel how hard I am."
Her entire body was trembling. She could feel him against her, the hard pulsing length of him. His words and his touch were destroying her resolve. She knew it was unrealistic to believe she could hold out against a passion so strong; it threatened to consume them both. But she had to. She was afraid that if he got what he wanted, he would no longer be interested in marrying her. He was so used to women falling into heaps at his feet and giving him what he wanted, that it had become a norm for him. She wanted to prove that she was different.
She wanted his rings on her finger and his name attached to hers before she gave herself to him fully.
But it was growing more difficult. She should tell him to stop, she thought achingly. She should push him away, find the strength to stop this, to insist that he leave. But his arms around her felt right. Being with him like this made her feel heady and powerful. He made her feel like a woman, loved and cherished and absolutely desirable.
And his kisses... she drew in a deep breath, drawing in his scent, the taste of him that was like liquid fire.
His tongue touched hers and she went up in flames. Her hands crept around his neck, her body arching as he plunged his tongue inside her mouth.
Dean felt her resistance crumbling under his assault and wondered feverishly if this was the time she would allow him to go all the way. They had come perilously close a few times and stopping at the last minute had almost driven him to madness. He could not take much more of it.
He plunged his hand between the folds of the sarong and felt the warm bareness of her breast. A sound came from deep inside him as her nipple rose proudly at his touch. He captured her moan, his fingers rolling the nipple until it hardened even more. Tearing his lips from hers, he hoisted her up and pushed the material off one shoulder so he could look at her. The gleam of the moonlight made her skin glow, turning it luminous. Her nipple was puckered as if waiting for his mouth. He had to oblige her.
Ducking his head, he used his tongue to taste and titillate. Her body arched, fingers digging into his hair and holding him there. Sensation after exquisite sensation streaked through her already weakened body, and that was before he pulled the tight bud into his mouth and started suckling hungrily.
Her cry startled a slumbering Galahad and sent him racing inside the house, but neither of them noticed. They were so caught up in the passion of the moment that they did not remember they were in full view of anyone who happened by. Nothing mattered except the incredible passion racing through their bodies and consuming them.
He switched to the other breast, giving it the same reverent and ardent treatment. By this time, he was too far gone to stop. Reaching between them, he pulled his zipper down so he could release the painful pressure of his erection. Taking her hand, he bore it down until she was wrapping her fingers around the pulsing hot length of him. Lifting his head, his feverish eyes met hers.
"I need you," he whispered thickly. "Let me have you. I want to sink myself deep inside you." His breathing was harsh and labored as he moved her fingers up and down the length of him until it reached the tip where the moisture was gathered. "Feel how much I need you. Yes, don't stop."
She was circling the tip of her finger over him and sending flames racing through his body. "That feels so damn good." He moved his hips suggestively. "Let me have you."
"I..." Her eyes were glazed as she stared into his.
"I'm dying." He was panting, his body jerking upwards. "I can't..." He swore beneath his breath and tried to move her hand, but it was too late. His body exploded as his seed spilled over their hands. His heart jackhammered inside his chest and he felt as if he was about to collapse. It took a minute for him to realize what had happened.
He had lost complete control, something that had never happened to him before. Embarrassed color stained his cheeks and made him angry. Reaching for one of the cloth napkins she had brought out, he avoided her eyes and started wiping them off.
When he was finished, he tossed the napkin onto the table and tucked himself back in before easing her off his lap.
"Dean..." Sensing his distress, she reached for him only to have him jerking away.
"There's no need to be angry," she said.
"Isn't there?" he asked coldly as he rose. "This has never happened to me before and I've been having sex for a very long time. This is what you've brought me to." His eyes were shooting blue fires as he glared at her. "We're bloody engaged! But you insist on waiting, for God's sakes why?"