Marriage by Mistake

herself blushing.
    "Besides—" Watching her closely, he added, "It's not as if I don't still want to go to bed with you, right now."
    Their eyes met and the breath stopped in Kelly's lungs. What? What had he just said? But she knew. And as they stood there, with Kelly just inside her bedroom and Dean just outside, the air between them started to heat.
    "Maybe we should," Dean suggested, his voice dipping low.
    It must have been sheer surprise that aroused Kelly so. Instantly. Her bones hummed. "But, um, wait a minute—" She took an instinctive step back. "I thought we'd agreed we shouldn't ."
    "I don't remember making any such statement." Dean took a step forward.
    "But I recall—" Kelly took another step back as Dean advanced once again, coming through her doorway. "That is, don't you think we ought to consider this more carefully? I mean, the last time—"
    Dean made a low sound in his throat. "That's what I'm trying to tell you, Kelly. I made a mistake 'the last time.'"
    "But, Dean—"
    "But, Kelly," he mocked playfully, then stopped, head tilted. "Or does this kind of thing only happen when it's your idea?"
    Kelly felt her mouth open again, and stay that way. Was that true? Did she have to be in charge? She had to admit she'd been beating herself up all evening because she thought she'd taken too much charge. "No," she said softly. "It doesn't have to be my idea."
    "Good." His lips curved and he closed the door behind himself. "Then it'll be my turn this time."
    A delicious thrill ran through Kelly, even as she tried to take a mental step back, out of the sensual spell he was starting to weave. He couldn't really want this. She remembered the look on his face at the Parker House. When he moved forward again, she put a hand to his chest, stopping him.
    "Mm," Dean said. "Nice hand." He took hold of her hand. Deliberately, tenderly...sexily. Kelly watched, incredulous.
    "Very nice hand," Dean murmured, threading his fingers through hers. By spreading his fingers, he spread hers.
    The action chiseled another notch in the crumbling structure of Kelly's resistance. She felt herself spreading open in the heart of her, becoming vulnerable all over again.
    Meanwhile Dean lowered his head. His tongue flicked out, stroking wet and warm on the sensitive webbing between her fingers.
    "Oh," Kelly breathed.
    Dean smiled. "Helpless. That's how I want you. Completely at my mercy."
    Kelly suppressed her next moan as Dean swept his tongue between another two of her fingers. She was rushing past the point of reason, but his words did penetrate. He wanted to be in charge—this time. He wanted her to be the helpless one—this time. The idea was either tit-for-tat shallow or...pretty good.
    Dean raised Kelly's hand and fit his lips to the inside of her wrist. Kelly moaned as he began a gentle, warm suction. The idea was looking better all the time, though a part of her, deep down, still wondered... Did he really want this?
    Dean increased the sucking pressure on her wrist. At the same time, he reached up to curl his other hand around the nape of her neck.
    "Dean!" Kelly's head fell back. How did he do that? How did he know the exact spot that would make her—helpless?
    "Kelly." With his voice deep and confident, her turned her chin toward him. Then his mouth came down on hers.
    Dark heat enveloped Kelly. It was all she could do to keep standing. "Mm," she groaned. "The bed."
    Dean's chuckle was low, even diabolical. "Oh, we'll get there...eventually."
    They did get to the bed, but it must have taken an hour or so. Dean kissed, he stroked, he caressed. With every touch, every murmur, Kelly melted more. Gone, fled, went every misgiving. The man was a master. By the time he did set her down on the silk counterpane, she felt like a liquid puddle.
    It was a completely different experience from their afternoon at the Parker House. Yes, Dean had been inventive there, but not...a Houdini.
    "Let me—" she murmured, trying to reach for him, wanting to give him something back.
    "Not this time," Dean replied. "I'm in charge."
    "Oh, yeah." It was just as well. Kelly's arms felt like jello. She lay there, supine, as Dean did everything . At one point she found herself clutching his hair. "This is too—"
    "No," Dean insisted. "It's not enough." And he continued, moving up and down her body, with his mouth, with his hands.
    Kelly moaned, she writhed. It was too much, but somehow she was taking it; taking it and becoming more and more his