Page 100 of When We Crash

“Where are you calling me from?” I asked, not recognizing the number.

“My hotel room.”

I switched my phone from one hand to other. “I thought you went home, Dexter.” There was silence on the other end of the phone, and I was about to check if the call dropped when he spoke again.

“Something told me not to.”

“Come over?”

He made a sound of quick relief. “I thought you’d never ask. I’m on my way.”

He hung up, and I sat down before jumping back up to spruce the place up. I changed my clothes and took my hair down. For once, I wanted to look nice. And when Dexter knocked on my door, I was ready for him.

I’d always thought of my vulnerability as a curse. I hated how I was a prisoner to every emotion. And after I moved away, I settled for a life without passion, a life without urgency or sensation. Only when I was painting did I let those things rule.

Until him.

When I was in his space, everything was available to him, laid out like a feast. My heart, my body, my feelings. They all belonged to him.

And the best part about it was I knew he belonged to me as well.

When our bodies were spent, resting in a heaping mess of limbs and sweat, I picked my head up to look at him. His lips were parted, and his features relaxed in that way that showed me he’d been thoroughly pleasured.

I fell asleep in my bed with Dexter’s body covering mine.

* * *

“Wake up, Blue,”Dexter whispered in my ear.

I blinked and sat up groggily. When I looked out my window, I saw it was still dark. “Everything okay?” I asked, looking him over for any signs of distress.

He was sitting back, his bare chest on display. “Yeah. I just felt like we were wasting time.”

“Sleep isnota waste of time,” I said, throwing myself back on the bed and looking at the ceiling. When he leaned into my line of sight, I giggled. “Fine. What do you want to do?”

“Take a walk?”

I rolled over and grabbed his watch from the nightstand. “It’s midnight,” I started to say before I caught myself. “Sure. Let’s get dressed and go for a walk.” I hopped out, dropping the blanket and heading to my dresser.

I didn’t buy lingerie. Before Dexter I had no reason to. Now that Dexter was here, I was sure he’d rather see what was underneath anyway. I pulled on plain black underwear and a bra and dug through my drawers for my favorite pair of jeans.

As I shimmied them on, I noticed Dexter smiling at me, already dressed. “What?”

He walked around my bed, looking at the pictures I looked at during my lonely nights and touching the things I touched. “You’re so direct. No frills, no games. It’s nice. I feel like I can trust you.”

Luckily, I was turned away from him when he said this. I frowned and closed my eyes momentarily.

“I realized that when no one told me about Greg,” he said. “They kept it from me. But you were the only honest person, the only one not keeping anything from me.”

I pulled a blouse on, buttoning it as I faced him. When he handed me my coat with a kiss, I knew I’d have to tell him sooner rather than later.

We walked—mostly hand-in-hand—for a half hour, Dexter making me laugh most of the way.

“So, you have to tell me. And be honest. I refuse to believe you haven’t dated at all for seven years. What gives?” His smile was innocent, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

I tried to fight my smile but was unsuccessful, of course. “Sure, yeah. I went on a few dates. I even kissed a few of them. But it was like, wearing clothes that weren’t your size. Or, I don’t know, like Goldilocks.” I laughed when I realized how ridiculous I sounded.

“No, no. I know what you mean. It wasn’t right.” He pulled me against him, and I kissed his chin.

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