Page 28 of Dirty Dix

“So it’s just you and your dad?”

“Um, yeah,” he replies with a pause, which confuses me, but I let it slide as I know uncomfortable when I see it.

“How about you?” he innocently asks, not realizing how a simple question such as this is my worst nightmare.

But I casually reply, “What about me?”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“Yeah, I have an older brother. But it’s just me and my mom.”

“Where’s your dad?”

“Oh, um, he left when I was five. I don’t really remember him,” I disclose, keeping my eyes focused ahead.

“That must’ve been tough.”

“It was okay—my mom is the best. She was my momandmy dad. I really am lucky to have her as my mother. We’re close,” I share, happy to divulge this information about my past.

“She sounds like an amazing lady,” Dixon says, and I nod.

“She really is,” I reply with sincerity because before my mom remarried, we were doing it tough.

“But I’m sure your big brother looked after his little sister, right?” Dixon randomly says, and I know it’s meant to be an innocent question, but the mere mention of my brother has me suddenly losing my footing and I trip, my forehead and wrists breaking the fall.

“Holy shit! Are you okay?” he asks. His voice mingles with the loud ringing in my ears.

I’m pretty sure I’m not okay, but I nod, which has my brain rolling around my head like marbles.

I fell flat on my stomach, and I’m beyond embarrassed to be sprawled out on the ground, so I try to lift myself up, but Dixon quickly warns, “No, no, don’t get up too quickly, you’ve hit your head pretty hard.”

“I’m fine,” I say, waving him off, as I’m more worried about how I’m going to face him, rather than my injured head.

As I lift myself into a half-sitting position, I see Dixon crouching near me. I watch as his eyes widen, and he gasps, “Fuck, you’re bleeding.” Before I can protest, he’s yanking off his shirt and pressing the amazing-smelling garment to my forehead.

I whine the moment it touches my sore brow, and Dixon flinches, easing the pressure.

“Sorry.” He frowns, his intense eyes focused on my temple.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, mesmerized by being so close to him, and also mesmerized by the fact I’m so close to him while he’s topless.

I try my absolute hardest not to stare, but it’s extremely hard not to as he’s simply stunning.

A totally hair-free, well-defined chest is inches away from my face. As I lower my eyes, I see the only hair visible is the fine dusting of darkened curls painting his navel, which leads into his low-slung shorts. His washboard abs should be illegal, and I won’t even touch on his sculptured V-muscle, which has my eyes bulging at its pure perfection.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dixon kindly asks, and I snap out of my trance.

“Ye-yeah,” I stutter, raising my eyes to meet his.

His strong features express nothing but concern, and just when I thought I couldn’t fall deeper into obsession with this man, I fall harder than ever before.

I watch as Dixon removes his soiled T-shirt from my brow, his intense eyes examining my wound. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but I dare say you’ll have a nasty headache for the next couple of days.”

“Nothing a little Advil won’t fix,” I say with a smile, and attempt to shift so I’m sitting up taller.

Dixon places his hands on my upper arms to help steady me, and I appreciate the support as my head is still spinning.

“So looks like I’m buying,” I declare, trying to ignore how my body responds to Dixon’s touch.

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