“Then it was kind of slick. I looked down and…there was blood…on my…” A ragged breath tears out of him. “I saw that, and everything just kind began to spin. I threw up. They left, shouting names at me, saying I was a bad fuck even for a football player…shit like that. But the girl I’d…”
Wide eyes the colors of earth and sea look up at me. “She acted as though she liked it. Wanted me to do that to her. Why? I made her bleed. Why would she want that? Because she wanted to claim a football player did that with her?”
“Ethan.” I don’t hesitate now to pull him close. He’s stiff with resistance, but his head rests on my shoulder, his breath coming out in agitated puffs.
“I couldn’t do it after that. It felt so ugly. Tainted. What I did, it wasn’t right.”
“No.” My palms cup his cheeks, and I lift his head to look into his eyes. “You got pulled into a bad scene. People do stupid things when they’re wasted.”
He tries to shake his head. “If I’d been more experienced, I’d have known enough to say no. Or get some…” His cheeks pink. “Lube or something.”
“Yeah? And what about that girl? If I asked a guy to do that, you better believe I’d demand some lube.”
Not that I’ve done anal before. But facts are facts.
“Look,” I say when it’s clear he’s going to argue, “you were stupid. She was stupid.”
His hands wrap around my wrists as he looks me in the eye. “I didn’t mean it to come out as a sob story. Logically, I know all this. But I remember, and I feel ashamed. After that, I just couldn’t tune out those thoughts. I couldn’t do casual sex. A relationship would be all right. But I don’t want someone who wants me because of what I do instead of who I am.”
My heart sinks a little. “Dex, we can’t have a relationship. You live in New Orleans, and I live in New York.”
His eyes drill into me. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you, Cherry. You say what you mean and don’t filter it…”
I wince. “I’ve been working on my filters.”
He flashes a quick, tender smile. “It’s a good quality. I trust you. I’m insanely attracted to you. I want to fuck you. I want to know you. I want to be with you. If you want all that from me too, I won’t let something as small as inconvenient living locations get in the way.”
Holy hell. I can’t even speak.
Letting my wrists go, he searches my face, his expression almost stern. “I want you badly enough to put my all cards on the table, show who I really am. So I guess it’s your play now. I’ll understand if what I said turns you off and you’d rather end this.”
His lips press tight, as if he’s forcing himself to say no more, but his eyes never leave mine.
My fingers reach out, trace the corner of his mouth where his beard frames it, just like the first time I touched him. “I think, Ethan, I want you more now than before. But a relationship? I have to think about it. Okay?”
He blinks. Then the corner of his luscious mouth curls upward, his gaze going hot as melted chocolate. “Just say the word and you can have me, Fiona.”
Chapter Eleven
Dex
Patience. I have it in spades. I’ve trained myself to use patience as a tool, knowing that the right moment will come, and when it does, I’ll take it. But right now, patience is wearing thin. Because Fiona has yet to give me an answer.
Back at Point Reyes, she kissed my cheek and told me she’d have to think about being with me. Not because of my past, she was quick to reassure, but because she’s afraid to start something that has a clear expiration date.
Frustration rolls through me. I don’t see an end to us, just how good we could be together. I should have stated my case all those years ago, when I first wanted her. When we lived in the same damn town. Only she had a boyfriend then. And I was too wary to step in between that. Stupid of me.
Maybe we’ll always be off with our timing. But, fuck it, I’m not giving this up. No fucking way. Not when I’ve gotten a taste of her. Not when she’s heard my ugliest truths and accepted them without judgment. We can be real together, which is something rare and precious in my world. So I’m regrouping.
First step: we go out with Ivy and Gray. If I can’t get a date, a double date will do for now. One of Gray’s teammate’s nanny is watching Leo.
We go out for dinner first.
Ivy and Fi entertain us with stories of their childhood and how their dad brought home athletes who are now our heroes.
“Tell them how you won a bet with Jordan when you were six,” Ivy says to Fi.
My girl’s green eyes sparkle as she laughs. “Oh, God.” She takes a drink of her cocktail. “I bet him I could jump higher than he could.”
“No way did you beat Jordan,” Gray insists, shaking his head.
“I did so!” Her cheeks flush a pretty, soft pink. “The stakes were a dozen donuts. He went first. And man, he has ups.”
We all nod at that. Fi leans in closer, her voice dropping. “I acknowledged his awesome skills, then took my turn.”
Ivy cuts in. “The little stinker waltzed into our kitchen, so we all followed. And as bold as you please, Fi climbed on the counter, looked Jordan in the eye, and jumped.”
“What?” Gray exclaims. “That’s totally cheating.”
“That’s what Jordan said.” Fi shrugs. “I pointed out that we never said the jump had to start on the floor, and since I did technically jump to a higher point, I won.”