“I didn’t realize you were so serious.”
“We weren’t,” I said quickly. “We went out like three times, didn’t even sleep together. He just… I think he’s never been dumped before because he’s a sore loser.”
Dex shifted his eyes away, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’m sorry.” I’d cry my eyes out if this scared him off, made him feel insecure, made him feel betrayed like he’d felt in the past.
He turned his head back to me. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault, baby. If you dumped me, I’d probably be a sore loser too.” He dropped his arms and regarded me, the vein fading away. “Let me know if he bothers you again.”
That was it? He wasn’t going to storm out? “So…we’re okay?”
“I was the one who went for it when I already knew you were seeing someone. Idiotic to assume there would be no consequences for stealing someone’s girl.”
“I was never his girl.” I was always Dex’s girl, from the beginning, from the day I met him.
His eyes slowly softened as he looked at me, that intense expression coming into his gaze, his shoulders becoming less rounded and rigid. Then he stepped over to me, his arms circling my waist, his head dropping to mine, his hands squeezing me close with that sexy, masculine grip. “You aren’t my girl either. You’re my woman.”
My arms circled his neck, and I felt that flush of passion, infatuation, even a little desperation. He made my heart race without stepping on the treadmill, made me feel deep longing, separation pains even when he was just five feet away from me. He gave me a kind of rush I’d never known, made me realize this was the first time I’d ever truly been in love. I’d give anything to tell him that, even if he didn’t say it back.
“You’re a good cook.” He lay beside me in bed, gloriously naked, having the perfect eight-pack, carved pecs, and sexy arms covered in veins and beautiful skin. He had my thigh hiked over his waist, his fingertips trailing circles on the skin, his waist covered by the sheet.
My arm was draped over his stomach, and my face was on his shoulder, looking at him, occasionally tracing my fingertips over his coarse shadow. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“So not only do you give the best head ever, but you also make some pretty damn good food.”
“Not as good as my mama’s pie, though.”
“But you taste like pie.” Only he could pull off a line like that, look me in the eye as he commented on the taste of my sex, when his mouth had been pressed there for nearly an hour, making me come over and over again.
Fooling around was satisfying, but I wanted more, though he was obviously not ready to take it there. But what we had right then, us cuddled together, was more satisfying than any sex he could give me.
Because it was just us.
He continued to massage my thigh, dragging his callused fingers over my skin, probably because he had to scrub his hands for surgery all the time, plus when he was working in the lab, and then at the office he was either typing or scribbling notes.
I couldn’t believe this was real, that Dex was beside me, looking at me the way I looked at him, in a way I could only imagine in my dreams. When I’d put myself out there and he rejected me, it stung, but it also gave me the closure I needed to move on.
But all I really did was lock up my feelings in a cage and slide the key into my back pocket. They never went away, and I knew they never would go away, even if this didn’t work out. He was the one.
He would always be the one.
“What are you thinking about?” he whispered, his chest rising and falling with his even breathing.
My fingers lightly traced the groove of one of his abs, feeling how ripped he was even when he was at rest. He had those sexy lines that formed a V in his hips, and he had a muscular and tight ass that made his jeans fit so snugly. Everything about him was sexy, from his sculpted thighs, to his broad shoulders, to those beautiful brown eyes. Sometimes I wondered if I was infatuated with him, cast under his spell of handsomeness, but I knew it was more than that. I was both infatuated with his features and utterly obsessed with his good heart. It made me realize I’d never loved Vince, even at our best, even when I hoped he would ask me to marry him.
That wasn’t this.
If I could go back in time and wave a magic wand and make sure Vince had never been married, I still wouldn’t.