Page 63 of Our Long Days
I stand abruptly, needing an outlet for this pent up energy. Two steps, and a bulky body emerges in front of me.
“Where are you going?” he asks calmly.
“For a walk.” I try to go around him, but he blocks my path.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No. Alone,” I say curtly.
I move left. He moves right.
“Dex, I’m not in the mood. I won’t go far.” I brush past him. “You don’t have to babysit me.”
“Florence, you’re not wandering off by yourself.” Each word, every syllable, is said through clenched teeth. Oh, he’s mad.
Join the club, buddy.
I whirl on him, not caring how deranged I look. “No. You don’t get to tell me what to do. Between the hours of nine and five, I’m your employee. Outside of them, I’m not your problem.”
The man standing before me is unrecognizable: fists curledat his sides, jaw clenched, eyes untamed. “You’ve been my problem for six long months.”
My arms fly into the air. “What does that even mean?”
Exhaling heavily through his nose, he takes a predatory step forward. “It means you’re making it impossible for me to do the right thing. You were supposed to be one night. A distraction. Not this.” He gestures at me accusingly.
“Not what?” Anger courses through me. “I don’t want to be a distraction! I made my feelings clear, and it’s fine if you don’t return them, but you don’t get to block me out when you feel like it. We’re supposed to be friends, and instead, you’re giving me the cold shoulder.”
Birds flock at our rising voices.
There’s a lethal edge to his eyes. Black holes consume his irises as his pupils blow wide. My heart hammers as he stalks toward me. I’m not scared, not of him, but my feet stumble as I retreat, stopping when rough bark bites my shoulders.
He towers over me, our chests inches apart. If he touches me, it’s over. If he doesn’t, I’ll scream.
“If I don’t return them?” He throws his arms wide. “All you do is distract me! You aren’tadistraction; you’rethedistraction, day and fucking night. I can’t go a few hours without getting my fix of you, and even that’s not enough. This isn’t about me not wanting you, it’s about me wanting what I can’t have.” Palm flat over his heart, fingers splayed wide, he shakes his head. “I can’t physically do it anymore, Florence.”
I. Stop. Breathing.
For months, I’ve been on an endless rollercoaster of emotions, certain I could push my feelings aside to be professional. After so many loops, sharp descents, and turns, I’m not sure which way is up.
“You’re confusing me,” I whisper. “If this is to get your fix or because I’m convenient, then?—”
The words are stolen from me when his mouth collideswith mine. He cradles my face lovingly, his lips and tongue battling with mine.
There are first kisses. Last kisses. Goodbye. Hello. Ones between lovers, friends, and family.
This kiss creates anew, wiping whatever I knew before and whatever comes next from memory. As the sun disappears behind the trees, we come alive, illuminating the twilight evening.
His body vibrates as he breaks the connection. “If needing you is my damnation, then send me to the depths of hell, because it can’t be worse than having you within reach and not holding you whenever I want.”
There are doubts to be cured, but the sureness in his voice reassures me this isn’t an act driven purely by lust. It goes beyond that. Whateverthatis will have to wait, because his mouth is on me again.
Our lips move together with fervor. His tongue demands entrance, and I open willingly. The time we’ve spent depriving ourselves sends us into a frenzy. We claw at the other’s clothes, shredding seams and popping buttons. Dex whips my shorts down my legs, helping me to step out of them as I tear his T-shirt up and over his head. Me in just my bra and panties, he stands in his jeans, belt unbuckled, hanging low on his wide hips.
The night air does nothing to cool the fire breaking out on my skin, lit by the slow track of his stormy gaze over my body. That first night, I was self-conscious about my lack of curves. One sweep of his eyes obliterated those doubts.
“All of it, Florence.” He jerks his chin. “Don’t get shy on me now.”
I pop a hip, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Do you ever stop being bossy?”
