“That’s great, Dean. Congratulations on three years sober and remember, it’s just one day at a time,” the leader says. “Chelsea, you’re welcome anytime you’d like to join us, but maybe you’d like Al-Anon, it’s a program for families of addicts. It might help you to forgive and move on—with or without Dean.”
The word forgive lodges in my throat like a thick piece of steak I forgot to chew.
We stay for the rest of the meeting and people don’t seem to mind me listening to their stories. All of them different than Dean’s but similar at the same time. They’ve all hurt loved ones, and some don’t know how to mend those relationships. Dean offers advice to one, telling him that all he can do is try. They discuss the twelve steps and how you can’t make anyone forgive you. They’re allowed to have their feelings.
As I sit in a plastic chair with the smell of stale coffee around me, it’s as though someone finally gave me the pen to connect all the dots. For the first time, my heart does believe he’s changed.
By the end of the meeting, I only want to be alone with Dean, my arms wrapped tightly around him, not letting him get away from me again. This man…his strength knows no bounds.
After everyone says the Serenity Prayer and Dean and I say our goodbyes, he leads me out the door and down the stairs to the streets of Chicago which are quieter now since the lunch hour is over.
“Do you need to go back to work?” he asks.
“I think I’m going to play hooky.” Hannah will understand and there’s nothing on my to-do list that can’t wait.
His hand tightens around mine. “Lunch?”
I turn to face him, my eyes burning into his. “At your condo?”
He unhooks his hand from mine, clasping my shoulders. “Are you sure? We should talk.”
“Dean, I’m done talking. I just want to be with you.” I don’t want to discuss anything else that might ruin this moment for us. So, I wrap my arms around his stomach, my lips finding his jaw. It’s smooth today with the scruff he seems to grow out only on the weekends shaven away.
“Everything I said in there is the truth, but I didn’t say it, so you’d sleep with me.”
“Are you cockblocking yourself?” I ask, my lips continuing to dot kisses along his jaw and neck.
“I just want to make sure you’re positive.” His voice is gruffer now.
“Where’s that man from weeks ago who brazenly kissed me in his office?” I reach down and grab his ass.
“Right now, he’s rising to the occasion.”
His hard erection presses into my stomach.
“Then take me home and give us both what we’ve wanted for a while.”
He raises his hand for a cab and he grabs my free hand, pulling me toward the taxi that’s pulled up at the curb.
Sliding in, I want to make-out—grab his clothes and force my lips on his, but we’re in Chicago and that might be something for late night, not during the day when we’re in so much stop and go traffic. It wouldn’t be just the driver getting the show.
Dean’s fingers weave a pattern across my palm and I count down the blocks until we reach his condo. What seems like a lifetime later, I climb out of the taxi, my panties already wet. Not wasting any time, he pays the driver and then grabs my hand once more, pulling me through the doors.
“Hey, Clark,” he says, not waiting for him to attend to us, but pressing the button for the elevator to come.
“Good afternoon. Miss Walsh, nice to see you again.”
The doors ding open and I stumble forward from him yanking my arm, but he catches me and it’s all good.
“Bye, Clark.” I wave as the doors slowly close between us.
“I don’t care about cliché.” Dean pushes me against the wall, his hands planted firmly on either side of my head, his body way too far away. He bends down, his lips capturing mine as the elevator rises.
I half expect him to press his body to mine, let me feel how aroused he is now that we’re finally alone. Instead, he keeps his distance, only making sweet promises and kinky expectations with his lips and tongue.
The ding alerts us that we’ve hit his floor, and the doors slowly slide open, but Dean doesn’t move.
“I’m going to ask you again. Are you sure?” His dark eyes are now filled with lust.
“Take me to your condo and fuck me every which way. Is that clear enough for you?”
A smile teases his lips. “Crystal.”
His hands slide down my sides, cupping my ass and lifting me up. Our lips touch and the ease of his movements send shivers up the back of my legs now that my dress is up around my waist.
He stops, my back pressed to his door, and expertly holds me up as he fiddles in his pocket for his key and inserts it into the lock.
We tumble in, but Dean never loses his grip on me. His shoulder comes to mind, but I’m not blowing this mood with talk about the past.
He kicks off his shoes and props me up on the kitchen breakfast bar, sliding my ass so it’s hanging off the ledge. Painfully slow, his hands run along my torso, bypassing my breasts until they cradle my face.
“I can’t wait to be inside of you.”
He brings my lips to his once more, the firm and frantic nature of our kiss already making them swell. Not that I’m complaining. I always loved when Dean was unrestrained and wild. That’s when I knew how much he wanted me.
My legs tighten around his waist, but he’s busy shaking his leg behind him, so I break our kiss and look down, seeing Grover humping him.
“He has to go out,” I say, looking over Dean’s shoulder.
“He can wait.”
Grover stares up at me with pitiful eyes like he’s already crossing his legs so he doesn’t pee in his master’s house.
“Dean,” I sigh unable to enjoy the way his lips and tongue are devouring my neck.
“Chelsea, he’s fine.” His tone is impatient, and I smile knowing he’d rather his dog crap all over the house than take his hands off me.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I assure him.
“Last time we walked him you decided against sex. Forgive me for not taking my chances.”
I laugh pulling back and his head falls into my lap.
“Let the dog out and then we can get to know each other again. I should probably call my boss anyway.”
Dean groans, pulling open my legs and presses his lips to the outside of my panties.
My hands fall back on the granite counter top, my eyes drifting shut.
Grover who?
Arf.
That Grover.
As though reading my body language, Dean’s hands slip up my dress and grab each side of my panties sliding them off my body. “I’m taking these then.” He shoves them in his suit jacket pocket, stepping away with his eyes zeroed in on my pussy.
After retrieving my purse from the floor, he props it up next to me. “You are not to move.” He points at me, a stern expression on his face. “I want you spread-eagle when I return because I’m not even close to being finished tasting you.”
Without tearing his eyes from me, he grabs the leash and clasps it on Grover’s collar whose tail is happily wagging now.
“I can’t believe I have to take out the fucking dog,” he mumbles. “You better be fast.”