Another lick, and I explode, my vision blurring.
I blink, panting and spent, but I don’t want to stop.
Dax stands, his lips shiny. Smirking, his eyes are hooded as he licks his lips.
My God. Dax Pearson is a fantasy.
No way is this man—this sexy, raw, godly man—real.
“You are so perfect,” he whispers, then tears a wrapper with his teeth. His hair is spiked to the sides from where I ran my fingers through it.
My mouth waters as he rolls the condom on.
He’s inside me with one quick thrust, and our movements become wild again, like we can’t get enough of each other. Like we’re frantically trying to learn each other all over again in a matter of minutes instead of years.
As he moves, he nips at my shoulder, sending me into a new frenzy. Sweating, panting, I move my hips and meet him thrust for thrust.
Moan for moan.
Beat for beat.
Our chests are pressed together, and my hard nipples poke him there, creating friction. Everything he’s doing to me causes me to squirm. I never want him to stop.
He picks up his pace, and my breath hitches as the tension builds again. I cry out louder and louder with every thrust until we fall over the edge together, beautifully.
We watch each other come undone.
It’s magic.
And when he kisses me on the lips, our teeth clash as I feel his smile against mine.
When the sun rises the next morning, birds are chirping through the cracked window. An owl hoots in the distance.
The breeze rustles the leaves.
No cloud in sight.
Coffee is brewing, and the smell wafts in through the open door.
And as he walks around his bedroom, Dax is gloriously naked.
Sighing happily, I snuggle deeper into the sheets clutched to my chest. This bed smells of him. This whole room does, and it makes my stomach flip.
“Are you checking me out?” Dax flings his shirt over his shoulder, and he narrows his eyes at me, his amused grin wide and heartbreaking.
“You have a problem with that?” I quirk my eyebrow.
He moves toward the bed, giving me a full view of how much he likes me checking him out. Kissing me, he moves the covers to slide underneath, and his body crushes mine in the best way.
He swipes my hair from my forehead. Blinking at him, I tilt my head sideways.
It’s daylight.
I peer up at Dax, at his intense eyes, and his tan complexion thanks to the fraction of European in him from his dad’s side. He’s the same Dax I grew up with, but everything’s changed.
He’ll go to work this week, to his regular life, and when I leave here, I’ll go to mine. I’ll go to my son. To my job tomorrow. To my tea dates with my neighbor where we’ll gossip about the latest scandal around town—and by scandal, we mean what coffee of the day the Better Buzz served that was the most popular among the community.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he whispers against my cheek, then places a gentle kiss there. His lips linger like he can’t control himself, and it makes me blush.
“Where do we go from here? I mean, are you my boyfriend? Are we dating? Do we start telling people?” I ask in one breath.
“Is that all you’re wondering?” He chuckles, gripping my thigh with his large hand. “What, is it because it’s our third time together? That means we have to label it?”
“Exactly.” My lips twitch. “Once, means it was in the heat of the moment. Second time—you wanted just one more taste. But third—it starts to become a pattern. It’s why they only label murderers as serial killers after the third victim.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but his phone goes off, interrupting him. Squeezing his eyes shut, indecision crosses his demeanor as the ringing phone echoes between us. Finally, it quiets but starts ringing again. “Just one second, please.” He holds his finger up to me, gives me a quick kiss to my forehead, then leaps for his phone.
While he takes his call into the other room, I sit back, wanting to bite my nails. I haven’t been a nail-biter since high school, but right now, my anxious energy is too much.
When Dax doesn’t come back to bed for a few minutes, I stand to get dressed. It’s almost seven o’clock, and my mom will want to return to her own house soon. That way, she has enough time to get ready for work and the brunch crowd.
I’ve just finished tying the belt on my dress when Dax reappears, two travel cups of coffee in each of his hands. He’s also dressed in jeans and a dress shirt, although the buttons are undone.
I instinctively lick my lips. I’ve become this new person I hardly recognize when Dax is involved. I suddenly have the libido of a twenty-one-year-old.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get to… you know.” He glances toward the bed, his jaw clenched, and the thick vein in his neck grows angrier by the second.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He immediately shakes his head. “No. I don’t know. I have to go into work for a couple hours.”
I would think it’s strange for him to go in on a Sunday, but this isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last.
I don’t push him for more information. He hardly ever talks about work, so I’m not surprised he doesn’t go into more detail. From what he’s told me, he likes to keep his personal life separate, and I can understand that. If I dealt with as much pain and death as he did, I’d want to do the same.
He’s been like this long before becoming a doctor.
It’s been… since his parents died. He’s never really had anyone to talk to about his grief. His pain.
His loss.
Not like I have. I’ve had strong, supportive parents for over thirty years. A best friend, Melanie, who listened when all I needed was silence. Family, friends, coworkers. From the day of Mitch’s diagnosis, I had
