“You’re doing it,” I whispered breathlessly.
“I hope so.”
“I mean… what I told you. That night we had… when I was in Castleford and we talked on the phone and you asked me how I like touching myself. You’re doing it now. Exactly the way I described.”
“I do pay attention.” A smile curved a corner of his mouth. “And I’ve always been a pretty good student.”
He slipped a finger inside me. I clenched around him. A trickle of sweat ran down my temple. A delicious coil of pleasure wound through me. I bucked upward again, straining toward that deep, bright bliss that lay just beyond my reach.
“So good.” I reached down to grasp his wrist, my blood scorching. “I’m going to…”
I bit my lower lip to prevent myself from crying out. Dean flicked his thumb over my clit and tightened his arm around me when pleasure shook me to the core. I writhed in his lap, arching shamelessly into his fingers as he eased the ricocheting sensations from my body.
“Pretty.” He brushed his mouth against mine.
The buzz of his cell phone broke me out of my sensual haze. I shifted in his lap. He muttered a complaint and pulled me closer, nuzzling his nose into my hair.
“I think… I think that’s your phone,” I said.
“I don’t care.” He stroked his lips down the side of my neck. “You smell so damn good.”
“Dean.” Shivers rained down my spine. I squirmed. “Um…”
He lifted his head. “You okay?”
“I need to use the bathroom.”
“Oh.” He patted my hip and eased me off his lap.
I smoothed my skirt back over my legs and headed for the bathroom. After using the toilet, I washed my hands and splashed water over my face. My skin was flushed, and my hair was loose and messy around my shoulders. I used Dean’s comb to work out the tangles and left the bathroom.
His voice came from the living room, low and threaded with anger. A knot of worry constricted my chest.
I paused, my guilt over eavesdropping outweighed by curiosity.
“No, Paige,” he snapped into the phone. “If he wants to talk to me, he can damn well call me himself… I could give a shit about her. No. I won’t deal with his goddamned mess again.”
I ducked back into the bathroom and closed the door.
Dean and his sister must have been talking about their brother. All I knew about Archer West was that he was Dean’s younger brother and seemed to be a troublemaker. From what I knew, Dean’s mother and sister often called on Dean to fix things.
That thought lodged in a part of my brain where wariness and fear lived.
I waited until the rumble of his voice stopped before I returned to him. He was pulling his T-shirt back over his head, his movements tense and restless.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He shoved his arms into the sleeves and turned away from me.
I ran my hands down the sides of my skirt and watched as he paced to the windows.
“Was that your sister?” I asked, painfully aware that I was wading into treacherous waters.
“Yeah.”
“And were you talking about your brother?”
“Yeah.” His tone was clipped. He dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. “Look, I need to get outside, go for a run. Do you mind?”
“No.” I suppressed the wish that he would confide in me. None of your business, Liv. Leave it alone. “Go ahead. I’ll be here.”
“Good.” He kissed me again before going into the bedroom to change.
“I’ll be an hour, hour and a half.” He grabbed his keys and cell phone. “Call if you need me.”
I nodded. If you need me. I was beginning to need him more than I should have. More than I wanted to.
After he’d gone, I went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. I took out containers of pasta salad, minestrone soup, and meatballs in marinara sauce that we’d gotten from the deli. I set the table with some nice, white plates I’d found on sale at Target. I put all the salads into the matching serving bowls, got out a bottle of wine, and had everything almost ready by the time Dean came in the door.
“Hey, thanks. You didn’t have to do this.” His face was flushed with cold and exertion, his collar damp with sweat. “But it looks great. I’ll take a quick shower, okay?”
“Sure.”
He headed into the bathroom. I heated up the meatballs in the microwave and put them on the table just as the landline phone rang.
The automated voice announced, “Call from California.”
My heart stuttered. Dean must have turned off his cell. I went to the phone and stared at the display, a 408 area code number. It rang again.
Don’t, Liv.
I tightened my fingers around the receiver.
Don’t. None of your business.
Ring.
I picked up the phone.
Ring.
Stop, Liv!
I pushed the talk button. “Hello?”
Silence on the other end.
“Dean West’s residence.” I felt like my grip on the phone could break the plastic.
“Oh.” An older woman’s voice, wary and sharp. “Is Dean there?”