Causing Havoc (14 page)

She'd prefer it that way, too.

Reaching down, he caught the hem of her dress and lifted it. In the next second, his hand slid inside

her panties. "Hot—and wet. You real y are ready, aren't you, honey?"

Her hand clamped around his wrist. Not to draw him away, but to ensure he wouldn't pul back on

her. She was so close that nothing else mattered just then.

"Shhh. Easy now." He held her so careful y, cradled against his body, supporting her, hugging her. In the slightest of movements, he rocked her. He kept kissing her. And his rough fingertips played over

her with perfection.

"I don't believe this." Her voice was high and weak, but she couldn't breathe. Deep inside her, a wild trembling started. Everything closed in around her.

Another minute would do it.

When cool air touched her fevered skin, she realized that Dean had somehow lowered the straps to

her dress.

Her breasts were exposed.

"So damn pretty. And so sensitive." As he moved his hand from one breast to the other, circling

each nipple with the edge of his thumb, he added, "I can't wait to taste you. But for right now, this position is working out pretty good I think."

Eve gave up. No longer caring what Dean might think of her behavior, she adjusted her stance to

open her legs, and felt his smile against her cheek.

"Now no more talking," he told her, as if he weren't the one carrying on a very one-sided

conversation. With one hand on her breast, the other between her legs, he said, "Al you have to do is trust me and enjoy."

Trust him? She barely knew him. The thought came and went so fast. Eve couldn't grasp it. Between

the fingers rasping over her nipples and those gliding easily between her legs, the awesome power of

the body supporting her and the gentle, damp kisses to her throat and nape, coherent thought

remained wel out of reach. Sensory overload blocked everything but the pleasure.

Somehow Dean knew when to apply just the right amount of pressure, in the most perfect of places.

Marveling at his ease, at how wel he knew her body— better than she knew it, in fact—Eve relished

the building orgasm. The things she felt now. the things he made her feel, were stronger than she'd

known possible. Sweeter. Tighter.

And coming so fast, she could hardly believe it.

To help ground herself, she dug her fingertips into his thighs. She didn't plan it—she was wel beyond

planning anything—but she pressed back into him, moving against his erection, wanting al of him,

everything.

He never made a sound, never wavered from the rhythm he'd set, but his heartbeat hammered

against her shoulder blades, and heat came off him in waves.

Just when she needed it most, he eased one finger slowly, deeply into her, and she heard herself

moaning, but didn't care. He caught her nipple between finger and thumb, gently tugging, tugging.... It

inflamed her more.

"Time to let go," he whispered. His teeth closed on her shoulder in a soft love bite, and as he

ordered, the last of her control spiraled away.

The orgasm rol ed through her, making her internal muscles clamp around his finger. With a hungry

sound of appreciation, he pressed in harder, further. Legs stiff, head thrown back, Eve came—and

Dean never missed a beat. He kept her there, in the clench of nearly painful pleasure, for what felt

like forever.

Final y he eased his touch and the feelings began to dim. Her legs would have given out, but Dean

scooped her up into his arms.

"Where's the bedroom?"

Trying to understand what had just happened, Eve stared at him. She wasn't a nymphomaniac who

got off on a simple touch. Like with most women, a blinding orgasm was an elusive thing for her. Hel ,

any
orgasm was elusive. Not that she hadn't enjoyed sex before. But... she couldn't cal this sex.

She didn't know what to cal it.

He smiled. "You okay?"

She was... foggy and limp, and very sated. A pleasant tingling continued in her limbs, ebbing out,

pulsing. Her stomach felt both heavy and as light as air.

Dean's smile widened. "Eve?"

In utter amazement, she stared at him. Words wouldn't come, so she cupped the side of his face,

touched a bruise on his high cheekbone, another on his rigid jaw.

He was a most remarkable man.

"Damn woman, you're kil ing me here." Leaning forward, Dean kissed her parted lips hard and fast.

"Where's your bedroom, babe? Or should I find it on my own?"

Awed by his control, her gaze dropped to his mouth. She sighed.

His expression sharpened more. "Never mind. I'l find it on my own."

But he started in the wrong direction so she forced herself to speak, albeit a little breathlessly. "Back through the family room, then to the left of the front door."

"Got it."

He carried her as if she weighed nothing, but then to a macho, bulked-up, superathlete like him, Eve

supposed she didn't. After resting her head against his shoulder, she felt compel ed to say, "You're

good." She knew that wasn't the right word, but stupendous, breathtaking, and out-of-this-world al

seemed like overkil .

"Good, huh?" His good humor was inexhaustible. "Wel , you can't make that judgment." He glanced down at her with hot eyes and a resolute expression. "Yet."

Languid fulfil ment evaporated as new desire sliced into Eve. Her pulse fluttered anew; her lax

muscles tightened.

Dean's confidence was almost enough to bring her back to the boiling point. "I'm not sure I can take

much more of this."

"Trust me." He narrowed his light brown eyes on her; his arms tightened around her. "You can and wil ."

Oh, wow. The way he spoke, she probably should have been a little worried. He had such a

domineering nature, yet... he didn't dominate. She knew, because she'd seen him with Roger.

And with Cam.

So far, his personality was so complex that she didn't have a clue what to make of him. But one thing

was certain: The sexual chemistry was enough to melt her bones.

At least it was for her. But what about him?

Without removing the comforter. Dean lowered her to the mattress. The designer set had cost a

fortune, but when he pul ed off his shirt, Eve decided she didn't care.

Lord have mercy.

Could men real y look so perfectly sculpted? So incredibly sexy? Even covered in bruises and a few

old scars. Dean Conor's bare torso was worth a dozen designer bedding sets.

Knowing he was hurt and seeing it, were two different things. Fil ed with sudden concern. Eve rose to

an elbow. "Dean. Are you sure you're okay?"

He glanced down at the bruises as if he'd forgotten them. "It's nothing."

Sure looked like something to her. Big splotches of purple and green mottled one side of his rib cage

and around one shoulder. Low on his left side, more colorful bruises dotted the top edge of his

hipbone.

Compassion nearly smothered her. "That has to be painful."

"Right now," he whispered, "I can't feel a thing." He stared at her naked breasts and kicked off his shoes. Showing no reservation, no modesty at al , he opened the fly to his jeans and shoved them

down and off, ridding himself of his boxers at the same time.

Ah, so he wasn't unaffected at al . He wanted her. In a
big
way.

Lifting herself on both elbows, Eve savored the sight of him. The obvious battering only made Dean

more masculine and larger than life. Most men would stil be in bed, nursing their wounds.

Not Dean Conor.

He treated the signs of battle as nothing.

Being so near him played havoc with Eve's peace of mind. She could feel herself fal ing fast, and

blast it, it wasn't just his incredible physique and rugged good looks. She'd known attractive men

before. She'd dated plenty of them. Okay, so they weren't as impressive as Dean.

Dealing with mere physical attraction would be an easy thing compared to the melange of feelings

bombarding her now.

The outward packaging was a bonus, but it was his attitude, too, the way he moved with such

certainty, and the way he treated her—natural y, without reserve, but also with gentle admiration and

acute anticipation.

She'd never felt quite so ... desired. She'd never been intimate with a man like him.

And the way he'd teased Jacki, how he'd let Cam hug him, even though platonic hugs clearly weren't

within his comfort zone. Everything about him appealed to her.

And for now, tonight, he was al hers.

Standing at the side of the bed. Dean smiled down at her—not with amusement, but with sensual

promise. "Do you know, Eve, you have a very deep, thoughtful expression going. What are you

thinking?"

Oh God, she could add mind reader to his many other attributes. Licking dry lips, she looked him

over again. "I'm thinking that you're the most devastating man I've ever met."

For whatever reason, her compliment made him scowl. "If you want to get dreamy on me, at least let

me give you reason first." So saying, he caught her knees and parted them enough to let him step

between her legs.

Excitement jolted through her again.

Dean's body hair was a shade or two darker than the light brown hair on his head. Her brother had

claimed that a lot of the fighters waxed off their body hair to show off their tattoos and muscles.

Not Dean. Running her hands along his chest, she said, "I'm glad you left your chest hair alone."

His brow shot up, as if she'd final y taken him by surprise. He snorted. "I don't have time to fool with that crap."

"Good."

Muscles flexed as he moved, bunching and stretching. The man was so ripped that he couldn't have

a single ounce of fat on him anywhere. And everything on him was .. . big. Hands, feet, shoulders,

biceps, chest.

Erection.

He saw the direction of her thoughts and murmured low, "Not so fast this time."

Eve dropped her head back and closed her eyes in disbelief. Fast? He cal ed that excruciating

teasing in the kitchen
fast?

Smoothing his big palms from her knees to the tops of her thighs, then over her hips, Dean caught

the waistband of her panties. He dragged them down as far as they'd go, given that he stood between

her parted thighs.

But it was far enough.

While he stared at her, he trailed his fingertips over her stomach, her hipbones, from one thigh to

the next. It might have been a tickling touch, except that she was too aroused to be ticklish.

He brushed his fingers between her legs in one brief, tantalizing stroke.

Suddenly he stepped back and stripped her panties down to her ankles, and off. "How do I get this

dress off you?"

She forced her eyes open. "There's a zipper in the back."

That sexy, crooked smile appeared again. "Then over you go." And that easily, he flipped her onto her stomach. But instead of opening her zipper, he paused, and a second later, Eve felt his breath at

the base of her spine. "You have such a sexy ass."

With no more warning than that, Eve felt him kissing her there, al over. She knotted her fingers in

the comforter. "Dean..."

He gave one last nibble to her cheek and raised himself again to tackle her zipper. Once he had it

open, he turned her back over and she helped him strip away the dress.

Expression taut, he stood there looking at her naked body. Without taking his gaze from her, he

reached for his jeans and found a condom. "You on the pil ?"

He was so calm and matter-of-fact about everything. "Yes."

"Good. Can't be too careful these days." He rol ed on the condom and came down over her, his hips settling between her legs. As if his patience had run out, he took her mouth in a devouring kiss.

But he didn't enter her, and he didn't move except to kiss her senseless. The man knew how to kiss.

He knew how to consume.

And she was starting to feel desperate again. The second he freed her mouth, she said,
"Dean?"

"How about bowling?" He rose to his elbows, surveyed her breasts, and bent to lick her left nipple.

Eve inhaled a startled breath and rasped,
"Bowling?"

"You don't like to bowl?"

How could he talk, or expect her to talk, while he did that? She moaned instead.

"Is that a yes? I thought we could make that our second date. I'm a good bowler. Not great, but I can hold my own."

He had to be kidding. But if that's how he wanted to play it, so cool and detached, she'd give it a go.

"Bowling is good—" He latched onto her nipple and began sucking softly.

Forgetting al about his fresh bruises, Eve gripped his back and arched into him.

When he lifted away to switch to her other breast, he said. "Great. Bowling the day after tomorrow,"

and then he drew on that nipple, too.

He was so leisurely yet so thorough that within minutes Eve was nearly mindless again. She writhed

against him, ready to insist that he stop playing and get on with business.

"I was thinking—"

"'Shut up. Dean."

"I'm serious. Maybe we should get to know each other better."

Eve grabbed his face and held him close. "Knock it off, Dean."
Please.

He moved to the side of her and rested one hand low on her bel y. "No, I'm serious. Tel me

something about yourself."

He
looked
serious, damn him. After grinding her teeth in frustration, Eve asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Everything." He stared into her eyes and lowered his hand between her thighs. "But let's start with whether or not you like oral sex."

Clever fingers slowly searched over her, then into her. Deep, then pressing deeper stil .