Page 14 of Heart of Dixie
“Sure you are. Tasty, sweet, and delectable. Something tempting to be savored. Sounds like the Dixie I remember. Sounds like the girl I was talking to tonight.” The delicate chuckle I intended erupted in something like a snort, and amused the hell out of Deke. His chuckle rumbled through his chest.
“Let’s not get carried away.” Easy enough to say, but the vibrations from his laughter trembled through my chest and threatened to travel lower. I was quickly becoming carried away myself. My alarm surely showed in my features. His grin creased his entire face. He leaned closer until I was wrapped in him and we shared the same air.
“What if we call it a goodnight kiss?” I studied his intense gaze. He hadn’t done anything all night to make me believe I couldn’t trust him. Who was I more concerned about? Him . . . or me?
One goodnight kiss. Surely I had the self-control to withstand one little kiss. I lifted to my toes and settled my lips against his. Deke was as good as his word, his hands motionless against my lower back. But then his mouth urged mine to open and my traitorous lips parted; my tongue slipped in to taste his, to remember it.
Big mistake.
8
Deke
Iwas an idiot. I spent the better part of the past ten years in classrooms and research labs. I defended a doctoral dissertation. I helped design innovative automotive systems used to change the face of the industry, and created cutting edge technology to extend the range of battery powered cars. But I had forgotten the most important fact of all.
Dixie Barnes was my Kryptonite.
I loved her as a girl, championed her. And after all the hours we spent squirreled away in her treehouse hideaway making plans for a future together, she didn’t bother to tell me she was leaving.
I played it right last night—low-key, lighthearted, mostly disinterested—and it took everything in me to keep the conversation centered on her work, her clients, minor happenings around town. To not bombard her with questions about her personal life in California was torture. After all, did I really want to know?
The last time I called—at Christmastime—she was on her way out the door. To some charity event with one of her clients, she said. I wondered if he was really a lover and she lied to spare my feelings. I choked on that for days.
My memories of her had paled over the years, but I caught glimpses of the bright, witty girl in the sedate, sophisticated woman I ran into at the Piggly Wiggly yesterday morning. Yet, judging by the number of times I refilled her glass, she felt the need for something other than my company to get her through the evening.
I gave her the chance to stomp on my heart once before and she took it. I wasn’t offering again. Calm and cool was my only plan when Dixie was around.
She lay snuggled up behind me on the bed, still asleep judging by the deep, even rhythm of her breath fanning the back of my neck. My face lay in the sprawled mass of her hair spread across the pillow. It was soft and sweet-smelling and I could imagine burying my hands in it as I fused my mouth to her parted lips and tangled my tongue with hers.
With a moan that shot straight to my groin and made my morning wood hard as fucking oak, she tugged on her curls as she rolled over in her sleep, her delicate skin now pressed against my back. I threw the covers back and got out of bed before I turned to identify—and possibly fondle—that overwhelming temptation. All I needed was Dixie waking up and finding me sniffing at her. Or worse. I turned to toss the patchwork comforter back over the bed, and . . .Jesus!
She’d kicked the covers to her feet while she slept and her dress had ridden up around her waist, exposing the rounded globes of ass that had just been pressed against me. The thin floss of her thong rode between them. One day I’d like to thank the man—because it could onlybea man—who invented that little addition to male fantasies.
I resisted the temptation to rub my palm over what was still smooth, undoubtedly soft skin, and headed for the bathroom. It would take one hell of a shower to deflate the tent I was packing.
Long minutes later I stepped from the tiled enclosure and into the steam-filled bathroom, my concentration centered on adjusting the bath towel around my waist.
“Thank you for last night.”
My shoulders jerked as I startled. “Jesus, Dixie!” My chin shot up and I found her blocking the doorway. It would be nice to imagine my words escaped in a low, growly exclamation, but that was wishful thinking. The grin on her face told the whole story. I held tight to the edges of my towel, which no longer overlapped quite so modestly. My dick had seen Dixie’s ass, too, and was ready to party.
Thoughts, elsewhere, McAllister.Preferably off Dixie’s naked butt and on to something that didn’t lead to regrettable actions.Imagine Dixie puking. I assessed her lightly tanned skin and clear eyes. “You don’t look sick this morning. How do you feel?”
“Better than I deserve.” She took a step closer until she stood just over the threshold. “You probably kept me from killing myself, or someone else.”
“The sheriff’s office takes drunk driving seriously. They got a grant for an ad campaign last year when one of the high schoolers wrapped his car around a tree after a Friday night bonfire.” I sidestepped, put a little space between us.
She took another step toward me. “Drive hammered, get nailed. I saw those signs yesterday, too.”
I backed up until I hugged the wall. I built the room large enough for two people to share comfortably, but Dixie with her slept-in dress and heated eyes blocked my escape; I was penned in. Whatever was going on here felt dangerous. My eyes darted around the room, but there was nowhere to flee.
What I longed for more than my first cup of coffee was something to cover my junk. My boxers were in the bedroom, but with her dark hair wild around her shoulders and memories of her naked body forefront in my mind, a condom was sounding good, too. “Dixie, you have to let me out of here.”
Even I could sense the desperation in my voice.
With the door open the steam was evaporating, clearing the air. My pulse ratcheted when she took another step closer and splayed her palm on my chest. I allowed a few wicked ideas to race through my mind as my heart thundered beneath her fingers. Maybe dinner hadn’t been such a great idea after all. But here we were.
Calm and collected was a pipe dream. No doubt I’d get a lecture from Blake. And Shane would definitely kick my ass. But somehow, by running into each other yesterday morning, this all seemed predestined. I lowered my mouth to hers, took another taste. When I lifted my head she was smiling, all the way to her eyes. “We’ve got four days until you leave, Dixie. Spend them with me.”
