“Good meeting with you, David. We’ll get it all straightened out.”
A male probably in his fifties shakes Dean’s hand, gives me a friendly smile and opens up the glass doors to leave.
“Thank you, Kylie, for being so accommodating to my unplanned visitor,” Dean says to the receptionist.
She smiles up at him like he’s Bradley Cooper. Give me a break. “No problem, Mr. Bennett.”
I stand. “Charming. Can we go to your office now?”
His smile grows and his eyes heat which only pisses me off more. He steps out of the way and holds his arm out for me to go first. “You know the way.”
I narrow my eyes as I walk past him.
“Kylie, hold all calls.”
“Will do, Mr. Bennett.”
I walk fast so he doesn’t have long to stare at my ass. Back in the day, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from grabbing it.
Not wanting to stay long, I stay on the visitor side of the desk, assuming he’ll go to his chair. He shuts the door behind him and flicks the lock.
“That’s not necessary, I assure you.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Oh, no? My bad.” He shrugs, not unlocking the door and sits down on the couch against the back wall.
“You can sit in your desk chair.”
He shakes his head. “Nah.”
Of course, he’ll do anything to infuriate me.
“Are you here for the chocolate milk?” A coy smile appears on his lips.
“No. But feel free to pour it over your head.”
He tsks me. “Now is that any way to thank someone?”
Leaning back, I rest my ass on the edge of his desk.
“Why don’t you come over here?” he asks, that seductive tone of his coming out as though he thinks it’s an on/off switch to turn me on.
“I’m good. Listen, I’m done with this chase of yours. I know you think it’s funny. You’re probably at home thinking of ways to torment me, but I’m done. What we had ended five years ago. It’s over. Now, I’ve told Hannah if you’re willing to work pro bono to keep you on, but you have to deal with Victoria. As far as this,” I waggle a finger between the two of us, “it’s done. The coffin is closed, sealed, and buried.”
His eyes dip to my lips and a sputtering sensation trips up my heart. He stands without an ounce of effort and saunters my way. I need to step away. My eyes flicker to the door until they’re drawn to his again.
“Now, Chelsea, you know how turned on I get when you’re mad.” He approaches me, the lust in his dark pupils slicing away my icy exterior. Before I can catch my breath, he’s in front of me. Dangerously close.
“Dean.” I put my hand on his chest and my eyes flutter shut from the surge of want that’s channeling between us.
“You feel it. I know you do. It was stupid of us to think it would fade.” His long fingers reach out and he tucks my hair behind my ear. “I can’t stop beating off at the image of you laying on my desk and my head tucked between your thighs.” He steps closer and I feel how hard he’s already becoming.
“We can’t. We already failed at this,” I continue to fight against the need coursing through my veins as my voice loses all its conviction.
“You’re telling me you can walk away right now and not lock yourself in a bathroom stall, pull up your skirt, dip your hand below the elastic of your soaked panties and finger yourself to visions of me grinding in and out of you over…” his voice lowers to a whisper. “And over,” he softly continues, “and over again.”
He always did have the filthiest mouth and I’m woman enough to admit that I loved it.
His fingers move from my ear to the back of my head and his strong thigh separates my legs, pushing my skirt up and placing pressure on my clit.
“We can’t.” He’d be a moron to think I mean it as my head falls back with a sigh. Talk about a guy who has the secret map to my treasure trove.
I raise my head to meet his gaze and we each lick our lips. Our mouths descend, hesitant at first, as though we’re feeling each other out, but it only takes one taste before we’re ravishing each other.
His tongue dives in, my hands grip his strong shoulders and his thigh rises higher between my legs. He swallows down my moan as I lose all sanity.
Somewhere between his tongue down my throat and my hand venturing down to his rock-hard dick, my sanity returns with the impact of a freight train. Instead of pumping his dick, I place my hand on his chest and push him off.
“What?” he asks.
“No, Dean.” I wipe my mouth and straighten my skirt.
“I don’t think you mean it.” He approaches me again, his cocky smile on display.
I smack him.
“Fuck,” he says, his hand covering his now red cheek. “Did you really have to do that?”
“Yes. Jesus, Dean. I’m your ex-wife. You hate me, remember?” I step a good distance away from him, out of the bubble of arousal we were in.
“I’m kind of remembering now.” He holds his cheek.
“That’s it. We’re through. Please respect that.”
He stands straight, and I want him to watch me leave this time around, instead of the cowardly way I did it five years ago after he was passed out.
“You have your wish. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
I open the door and pause for a moment, looking back over my shoulder. “I won’t.”
Shutting the door behind me, I vow to leave him in the past where he belongs.
Chapter Seven
That Friday, I shut my apartment door after saying goodbye to another dud of a date after dinner. Stepping out of my heels, I pick them up and retreat to my bedroom.
“Tonight, I need pajamas, popcorn, and a movie.”
Opening my closet doors, I place my heels next to my other ones and strip out of my dress, thinking back on the date that can only be described with one word—boring.
I’ve been determined to find a straight-laced guy but give me a break. The guy visits his mom every Sunday and keeps a gratitude journal. Sweet yes, but I’m not signing on for that. He volunteers at three different places during the week after he’s done at work. You know when people say you date or marry up? To this guy, I would’ve seemed like the used gum at the bottom of his shoe. He had a damn halo over his head.
Five minutes later, I’m in my silk pajamas, sitting on my couch with a bowl of popcorn in my lap.
“This is the life.” Again, I’m talking to myself since I’m alone.
I click through the movies. Nada, Zip. Screw this.
Since I refuse to get rid of my DVD player because contrary to popular opinion Netflix does not have every movie available, I open up the media cabinet under my television to dig for a movie.
As I go through them, nothing sounds interesting. A romantic comedy won’t work since my romantic life sucks right now. I pull out a few other cases, but nothing sparks my interest. When my hand clenches around the Rambo case, a shiver wracks my body.
It’s our DVD. The one Dean and I made. God, that man can convince me of almost anything.
I’d hidden our recording in the back of the cabinet so no one coming to my apartment would stumble upon it. I should’ve taken a lighter to it years ago. There’s no use in denying that my feelings for Dean haven’t exactly waned over the years. Do I hate him? Hell yes. Do I ever want to go down that road again? No way. That doesn’t mean he’s not hot as hell and seems to still have some magical pull on me.