Page 12 of Our Long Days
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for!” I protest.
“Fuck!” he shouts and jumps backward, clutching his heart. Then, his eyes drop to my chest, pupils blowing wide, and a deep groan rumbles up his throat.
Ah, yes, my brassiere is on display.
I sigh, not bothering to cover up. “Don’t worry, there isn’t much to see.”
His brow wrinkles. He goes to speak, but I cut him off, my pacing resuming.
“Seriously, there’s no apology needed.Ioverstepped. I’m sorry. The whiskey has worn off, and I realize how grossly inappropriate I was. My stress levels are high. I’m horny and, well, look at you.” I make a face like it’s obvious and then swivel away. “You can’t exactly blame a girl, but you were right to reject me. So, if it’s?—”
A large arm whips out in front of me, slamming into the doorframe and halting my footsteps. Dex crowds me, and my limbs jelly at the intensity pulsing off him. “Would you stand still, woman, and let me speak?” he growls—actually growls.
“Shit.” During my tirade, I forgot he removed his hearing aid. “I’m sorry.”
His shoulders relax, eyes softening. “You’ve got to stop saying sorry when you have nothing to be sorry for.”
The urge to apologize is strong.
He steps closer. His pulse visibly thrums under the rose tattooed on his neck. “When did I reject you?”
“On the sofa…” My voice trails off. I can’t look away. Our gazes weld together as his large body towers over me. His scent, all wood and earth tones, makes me dizzy.
“I asked if you thought this was a good idea, and then you kinda freaked out on me.” A muscle in his jaw ticks, like he’s holding himself back. “You didn’t answer, so I’m going to ask again. Is this a good idea?”
My flesh pebbles as his fingers skirt down my bare arm.
“This?” I whisper hoarsely.
“One night. A distraction. That’s all it can be, because I’ll be honest, Florence, there isn’t much room in my life for anything else, along with other obvious reasons.”My brother.“I don’t do relationships, so if that’s what you’re looking for…”
Fists bang against my ribcage, my heart screaming at us to stop, but my brain likes the sound of a distraction, even if it’s temporary.
“I trust you, and I hope you trust me,” Dex continues. “Because I really want to forget for a little while, and fuck if I don’t want to do it with you. Even if I shouldn’t.”
“But you said nothing. You—” Whatever nonsense was coming out of my mouth stops when Dex steps over the threshold and cups the back of my head.
“I was busy wondering what kissing you would taste like.” He blows out a breath, whiskey and mint tickling my face. “But it’s up to you whether I find out the answer to that question.”
Me. He’s leaving it up to me.
I’m having an out-of-body experience while being hyperaware of everything. My diamond-hard nipples brushing his chest. The scratch of his calluses on my neck. How my core throbs, the inside of my thighs slick.
Most of all, I’m very aware of the thick bulge pressing against my stomach.
“Yes or no. One word, and I walk away or…” His gaze drifts behind me. To his bed.
No seems like the safest option. Doing this will change everything.
But maybe it won’t. This doesn’t have to mean anything.
Yes empowers me. It gives me the control I’ve been searching for.
Safe is boring.
If the rational part of my brain was switched on, it would warn me to tread carefully. My heart has always drummed a different beat whenever I’m near Dexter Moore. It might be one time for him, but I’ll be replaying this evening over until the end of time. I’ve never voiced my feelings, deeming it pointless. Why would he ever give me a lick of attention?
Yet, here he is, willing to give me the escape I crave, his hands on my body, stormy eyes staring at me as if it’s the first time, not the thousandth.
