That wasn't exactly surprising and it wasn't the first time he'd said the same thing.
"We'll deal with it when he gets back," he said. "You gonna sleep in my bed?"
Relentless. The man was relentless. That weird mix of excitement and fear flooded my stomach again. "I don't know. I kind of feel like I'm in over my head with you. Like I just learned how to swim and you want me to compete in the Olympics, and I don't want to disappoint you. Does that make sense?"
That handsome face turned serious. "Ritz, I might know what I'm doin' with you when you're in my bed or my office—"
Oh god. The mental picture of him with someone else in his friggin' office made my heart constrict. At the same time I had the urge to gag.
"But the rest of this is completely fuckin' new to me. I don't wanna run you off," he admitted.
I sighed and nodded, but there was something about his words that really stuck for the first time. "Why don't you know what you're doing? I figured you," my heart did that stupid clenching thing again, "get around. And you don't exactly seem like the long-term relationship kind of guy." I wanted to puke at the end of each of my sentences and by some miracle, I didn't. "You're kind of old, Dex. It doesn't make sense."
"Old?" he coughed. I swear it seemed like his eyebrows managed to climb all the way up to his hairline in indignation.
I shrugged.
"I'm not old."
Oh boy. Of all the things for him to get hung up on, he got held up by the mention of his age. "Okay, you're not old. You're a spring chicken, whatever. The point is, why don't you have a girlfriend?" After the conversation we'd just had, wondering about a wife would seem preposterous.
He blinked. It took him so long to answer I thought he'd just ignore the question. He braced a hand on my knee, his skin hot. "I haven't exactly been lonely, honey."
I'd gotten stabbed. Stabbed by an invisible blade. I'm sure I made a noise that said just that. How immature was that? How pathetic?
The hand on my knee tightened, and I suddenly had the urge to whack it away. "Well. It's not like I didn't know that." But the verbal confirmation wasn't easy to swallow.
"Baby," he purred. "I could ask you the same thing.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t have time.”
He didn’t believe me. “Bullshit.”
“I didn’t.” And I didn’t care. In the last fourteen years, I’d only had a brief six month period when I didn’t have something or someone to worry about. It was fourteen years that I was grateful for, but… a break would have been nice. The one and only post-high school boyfriend I had consisted of a handful of last minute dates over the course of a few months. It wasn’t a surprise it didn’t work out between us.
“Keep tellin’ yourself that but you know that I know the truth. We’re the same, we’re both closed off. I only give a shit about very few things, and you don’t let anybody in because you’re scared. I have shit to do, honey. Why would I wanna waste more than a couple hours of my time?”
It annoyed the living crap out of me that I wanted to argue that point with him but I couldn’t. Deep down, he had a point. But I wasn’t about to acknowledge it or how he wasted hours of his time. Gag, gag, gag. I grit my teeth instead. “I get it, Dex, the point is, I don’t get why me. We’re like oil and water.”
He made a tisking sound with his tongue. “You haven't been payin' any attention, have you?"
I groaned my response, earning a low chuckle.
He set the bowl in his hands aside and shifted over to drop a knee between my legs, straddling my thigh. Dex plucked the bowl from my hands and set it alongside his. He loomed over me, his gaze and face intent, taking my hand and placing it on his chest. "You gotta open those pretty eyes, baby. You're the only one here." He slipped his hand down the center of my chest, straight down to cup the zipper of my jeans. "And I’m sure your romance books will tell you exactly how I feel about me bein’ here.”
I'm pretty sure I wheezed.
"You understand me?" he purred.
The only thing I understood was that I was on the verge of having a heart attack.
His mouth touched the side of my neck. "Iris? You understand what I'm sayin'?"
No. No, I didn't. Not in any way.
Dex's teeth nipped at the same spot he'd kissed a moment before, making me gasp. "Iris."
I nodded, shaky and quickly. "Yeah, I hear you."
He hummed. "But do you understand?" Ohmigod. I could feel that hum all the way to my underwear. "You get it?"
I had to shake my head because the words wouldn’t come.
His nostrils flared. “First time in my life, I think I hate the fact you knew how to suck my dick,” he breathed. “Got this urge to kill whatever guy taught you how to give a blowjob. The fuckin’ idea of you kissin’ somebody else makes me wanna dig a knife into my eye. Let me tell you, babe, never in my life have a given a single fuck about any of that. You get it?” His palm pressed into my jeans harder. Then he laid the atomic bomb on my very existence. "You are not a waste of time to me."
Holy shit. Holy friggin' shit.
"Say it," he murmured into my neck.
“Say what?”
“Say you get it.”
I said it. Without a second thought even though a huge part of me was terrified. I said the three words because nothing and no one in the world had ever made me feel so grounded, so assured that I wouldn’t be forgotten or left behind. I mean, I know most things were out of a person’s control, but Dex happened to be the most controlling and overbearing man I’d ever met.
And a part of me recognized that I should run. That if I gave this man an inch, he’d take a mile. That if I agreed to this, it’d be the beginning of the end.
In his words, I didn’t give a single shit. I said them anyway.
"I get it."
He looked at me with those dark blue eyes as if he was waiting for me to admit something more. Something incriminating, vulnerable and maybe even painful, but I couldn't come up with anything that could be more of any of those things. It wasn't until later, after he promised that he really wouldn't do anything if I slept next to him, that I thought more about it.
I didn't really let anyone in. Ever. After my dad left, and I got sick, and my mom got sick, and... there was always something, something bigger that snowballed from the size of a raindrop into the size of a softball that made me more and more reserved around others. Even with Lanie, I still didn't fully embrace our friendship. How long had it been since I'd spoken to her? Months? If we were best friends, that shouldn't have happened, right?
Yet the idea of not talking to Sonny on a regular basis, or laughing at Slim and Blake's antics, or just anything relating to Dex made me sad. It made me yearn for that easy familiarity. I finally had people that I trusted. So couldn't that be the same thing with the man that shared so many of the same hang-ups I did?
I rolled onto my back in bed next to Dex and looked at him.
He was face-up, one hand tucked under his head and the other was on his bare chest, just to the side of one of the loops that pierced his nipple. He was so damn good looking with all that ink that darkened those sinewy muscles and skin, it was unreal. If I’d seen him on the street back in Florida, I probably would have kept to the edge of the sidewalk. Well, I would have done that while eye-screwing the crap out of him.
I'd never been a big fan of that saying, "Everything happens for a reason," but maybe, sometimes, every once in a while, things coalesced into a complex, intangible reason. With tattoos and piercings and bad words and unfailing loyalty topped with a temper.