But I can’t bring myself to regret it. Can’t bring myself to regret him.
After the shower, he wraps me in a fluffy white towel, and I laugh as he wrings my hair out, doting upon me in a way I didn’t think Dex Reid capable of.
In the bedroom, I sit down on his king-size bed and pull my legs up under me. Dex flips the switch in the closet, and though I already know what to expect, my eyes still go wide.
It’s not just a walk-in closet; it’s a whole room. All the clothes I own wouldn’t even fill one wall of clothing racks.
Dex pulls the bath towel from his hips and hangs it up to dry. From this distance, sitting on his bed, I can see all of him, from his shower-wet hair to the tattoos curling around the backs of his calves. He’s almost too beautiful, too flawless to be real.
But when I pinch myself, I’m still here.
Opening a drawer in the built-in shelves, Dex grabs a pair of boxers, then yanks one of his T-shirts from a hanger.
“Here,” he says, tossing the tee to me. My reflexes aren’t quite fast enough, and the T-shirt hits me square in the face. Immediately, Dex bursts into laughter, and my cheeks flare with heat. “I’m so sorry,” he says. I’ve not quite healed my pride by the time he’s standing in front of me, dressed in simple black boxers. “I thought you’d catch that.” He bends over to press a kiss to the top of my head, and any embarrassment I felt vanishes.
“I play the violin, not basketball,” I grumble, but it just makes him laugh again.
“It’s a T-shirt, Little Monster, not the NBA.”
Furrowing my brow, I drop the fluffy towel from my shoulders, and I don’t miss the way Dex’s eyes linger on my breasts as I slip his T-shirt over my head. It’s baggy and soft, and when I stand from the bed, it reaches my midthighs. Looking down at it, I squint at the image on the front. It’s upside down, but I think it’s a sword.
“Is this a—”
“Shadow Odyssey limited-edition tee?” he answers for me as he climbs onto the bed. “Yes. Yes it is.”
Lounging back on the pillows, he flashes me a smile, and that same nettling thought creeps into my mind.
I think I might actually love him.
chapter 21
WARM MORNING LIGHT STREAKS THROUGH the sliding glass doors, turning the living space a soft shade of gold. When I first came down this morning, I looked over at the glass to find our body prints smudged all across it, and the reminder of what we did last night made my bare toes curl against the cool concrete floor.
Now I’m in the kitchen, trying to figure out how to operate Dex’s coffeemaker. It should be an easy process: add water, add coffee grounds, push the button. But the expensive device resembles a small spaceship more than it does a traditional coffeemaker, and I’m still struggling with it when Dex comes downstairs, dressed in his signature ripped jeans and a baggy charcoal-gray hoodie. He’s wearing a backward hat, his blond hair long and wavy, and when he steps into the light, I catch a glimpse of metal around his neck.
The same metal he wrapped around my wrists last night.
I look down at my hands, and sure enough, light blue bruises snake around my wrists. Dragging one thumb across a tender spot, I smile. I will never forget that moment; the cold glass against my body, the chain around my wrists, Dex’s lips on my ear—it’ll be forever ingrained in my mind.
Quickly tearing my eyes away, I glare at the coffeemaker, which is sitting still and silent on the marble countertop, just mocking me.
“You look like you’re attempting brain surgery,” Dex says as he walks up behind me. His voice is gravelly with sleep, and it makes him even sexier somehow.
“Does it need to be this complicated?” I ask, fluttering my fingers at the contraption.
His laugh is low and quiet. Slowly, he leans over me to brace his hands on the countertop, and I’m just small enough to fit into the curve of his body.
“I’ll do it,” he says, his breath warm on my cheek. He brushes his nose against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine and into my low back. “What do you want in it? Just oat milk?”
I nod. Turning around, I find Dex smiling sleepily at me, and I rise onto my toes to press a soft kiss against his lips. He lifts one hand to touch my cheek, and the rings on his fingers are cool against my skin.
“All right, coffee,” I say, pulling away from his mouth even though my body fights me every step of the way.
The house is cool this morning, and I pull Dex’s hoodie from last night on over my T-shirt and shorts. It’s warm and soft and smells like him, and I ease the hood up over my head while walking to the glass doors. Touching the panel on the wall, I watch in quiet awe as the glass slides open silently to let the fresh morning air in. It’s chilly—it is still winter—but with a hoodie on, I’m warm enough to step out onto the back patio. Birds sing in the trees all around me, and there’s a distant hum of cars, probably Dex’s neighbors heading into the city.
There’s something so peaceful about the early morning, when the world is still waking up and the city is quieter than usual. This is my favorite time of day, my most contemplative. If I were home, I’d be sitting at the kitchen table with Margot, sipping a cup of coffee and doing my daily journaling session. And more likely than not, I’d be writing about him.
A soft sound makes me turn, and I find Dex stepping out of the house, a cup of coffee in each hand. The mugs steam in the crisp air, and I smile gratefully as he offers me one. Heat seeps through the mug and into my fingers as Dex comes to stand beside me.
“Beautiful, huh?” Dex asks. He slips his free hand into his pocket, lifting the mug to his lips with the other.
I watch him covertly, trying not to stare so blatantly. Every move he makes, from the bob of his throat to the brush of his eyelashes against his cheek, makes me weak for him.
I think I might know now what all those love songs are about.
“This view is why I bought the place.”
Stealing my gaze away from him, I lift the mug to my lips. The first sip of coffee is heaven. The oat milk is frothy, and the coffee is way smoother than the stuff I buy. Granted, his probably costs an arm and a leg.
“Would you ever leave the city?” I ask.
He glances over at me, playing with his lip ring in the morning light. Instead of answering right away, he takes another sip of coffee, seeming to ponder the question.
“Yeah,” he says at long last. “I like it here, the energy. But I don’t think I’ll like it forever.” His gaze slides to me once more. Taking his hand from his pocket, Dex eases an arm around my shoulders, and I settle in against his chest with a familiarity that scares me. “Why? You wanna run away to the mountains with me?” he mumbles into my hair.
Without thinking, I tell him the truth. “Yes.”
Instead of responding, he pulls me closer, his arm tightening around me. And somehow, I think he likes that answer.
