Marriage by Mistake

lashes lowered. "Things are different now, aren't they?"
    Whoa. Even as desire stirred, Dean knew he couldn't have her believing anything was different. Hell, he might start believing it, himself. Yes, he'd let down his guard, he'd allowed himself to enjoy her company, but that didn't mean anything essential had changed. Whatever they'd felt for each other today wasn't real. It wasn't lasting. Such things never were.
    Before he got a chance to say anything of the sort, however, Kelly reached out to put a finger in the middle of Dean's chin. He stood immobilized. The smell of the salt of her skin reached his nose, the leather from the car seat, and even a hint of the garlic they'd had with their dinner. The whole magical day seemed encapsulated in Kelly's finger.
    Reality began to slip.
    Kelly smiled softly. "I don't know what it took for you to let go, to loosen up today, for you to trust me, but I know it was a lot. And so...thank you." Her eyes came up to meet his.
    Reality continued its downward slide. Swiftly. The look in her eyes... She'd had a good time, as good a time as he'd had. He'd done that—for her. He'd been able to do that. The ancient part of Dean, the part that had elected to take the day off, surged upward again.
    He didn't want this to go.
    Not yet.
    As Kelly gently lowered her finger and made to step back, he cast frantically for something, anything, to prolong the moment, the time—the connection.
    "I like you."
    Kelly froze. It took Dean a second to realize he was the one who'd uttered the words. He'd just told Kelly he liked her. Out loud.
    Terror warred with the most bizarre access of joy. It was true, of course. He did like her. A lot. But— Oh, there were so many but's. Nevertheless, his joy continued to grow, along with his terror. What would she think of this?
    "Oh, Dean," she murmured, while her face went all soft and warm.
    That was it. The end. He affected her. He did. The ancient warrior inside Dean, the rebel who refused to face reality, charged in with the strength of an armed battalion. Any thought of being responsible flitted into nothingness.
    What was responsibility compared to this , this new and incredible sensation?
    Dean set down the bags. The air seemed to hum around them. Through the hum, he reached for her. She leaned toward him. Their noses briefly fumbled for space before their lips touched.
    Magic. Power. Immensity. Dean closed his eyes and let it all wash over him. Deep, deep down, in the darkest heart of him, he knew he was continuing the pretense. This was neither smart nor honest.
    But, God, he did like her! And she'd liked that. She'd liked it!
    Kelly's arms went around him. Dean pulled her close. Reality? he thought, his chest nearly bursting. The hell with reality .
    Deeper. He kept letting her in even deeper, Kelly thought, as Dean's arms closed around her. He'd told her he liked her. That was—it was—
    Not enough.
    Some voice inside her, not yet seduced, spoke up. There were rules governing this kind of situation, rules she'd thoroughly flouted last Monday. She wasn't supposed to be going to bed with him, not giving so much—or at least not giving so much until he gave something back: a proposal of marriage, or in their case, the words that ought to go with one. Words of love, words of commitment. She'd promised herself she would go back to the rules that would protect her.
    The resistance of the door behind Kelly gave way. She suspected she'd been the one to grope for the knob. But it was Dean who walked her backwards into the room. Kelly didn't protest, however, when he turned to lean her against the inside of her bedroom door, when his mouth descended desperately to devour hers. She twined her arms behind his neck.
    Perhaps there were rules, but the situation seemed strikingly familiar. Five weeks ago with Dean in her car in Las Vegas, she'd felt the same thrill of discovery, the same pulse of need and giving. That night, Dean's touch and his words had sparked Kelly's infatuation into love. Marry me , he'd said. I love you , he'd said.
    Okay, so he hadn't said that tonight. Kelly admitted this as Dean's hand roved over the bodice of her sundress and she moaned her appreciation. No, Dean had not pronounced his undying love and devotion, but he had admitted he liked her. For the Boston Dean, that was equivalent to an avalanche.
    "Kelly," Dean murmured.
    "Dean," Kelly whispered back. She reveled in the shudder that went through him when she rocked her