He cupped my face and kissed me. “I’m going to head home. If you want to join me afterward, I’ll be there.”
“You aren’t going to go back inside?”
“There’s no reason for me to be there without you. My bar days are over.”
Twenty
Carson
I stayed with Kat for a few hours before I got back in the car.
When the driver asked where I wanted to go, I knew what my answer should be. But instead of doing what I should do, I did what I wanted to do.
I went to Dax’s penthouse.
I checked in with the security officer inside then rose in the elevator to his gorgeous penthouse that was thousands of feet too big for a single person. The windows were lit up with the lights from the skyscrapers in the background, the bridge in the distance. A few lamps were on, and he had dimmer lights that gave the living room a romantic ambiance. It was cozy, a place easy to get comfortable in.
Dax was on the couch in his sweatpants, as if he’d known I would come. The New York Press was on the table.
The article about him had been published that morning. I’d totally forgotten about it.
He rose, his muscular arms extending from his broad shoulders, his tight stomach flat like a straight line. The alcohol didn’t make his stomach stick out like it did for me. He walked to me, his eyes looking into my face, reading every subtle expression like he knew me better than Charlie.
When he reached me, his hands dug into my hair, ignoring the pins that kept it in place, and he gave me a kiss that was both passionate and comforting. His full lips moved with mine, conveying his concern as well as his affection. When he ended the kiss, his hands slid down my shoulders and arms until his hands squeezed mine. He looked at me and asked a question with his eyes instead of his lips.
“She was upset at first but calmed down after a while…”
“It’s unfortunate, but maybe it’s a good thing. She’s seen it with her own eyes, so she’ll be prepared.”
“Yeah, maybe…” My hands gravitated to his chest, feeling the solid concrete that could protect me from anything. His skin was warm to the touch, and with his shirt gone, I could really smell his cologne. “Thanks for mediating between Charlie and me…”
“Just wanted him to remember how much you care about him…since he’s your best friend.” He stepped into me and pressed a kiss to my forehead, his lips light a hot pan that seared my skin.
I loved having a man who was so secure that he didn’t care that my roommate was a man. I loved having a man who would fight for my relationships instead of ripping them apart. I loved having a man who went out of his way to be friends with my friends without even being asked.
“You want to sleep over?” His lips brushed against my skin as he spoke.
I nodded.
He turned away and closed up the penthouse, turning off the lamps and the TV. His drink was left on the table to be addressed tomorrow. He stopped at the entrance to his hallway and turned around to look at me.
I’d never been in his bedroom before. I’d just realized it for the first time.
He stared for a few seconds before he moved down the hallway.
I watched him go before I followed, entering the master bedroom at the end of the hallway. It was a large room with very little inside. It was a corner bedroom, so two of the walls were just windows, overlooking the city. There was no TV across from his bed. It was against the other wall, on an arm that could push the TV out and turn it if he wanted to watch it. A large dresser was underneath it, along with two paintings on either side of the TV. He had a nightstand on each side of the bed and a dark wooden headboard. Above it was a painting of a dark landscape, a jagged mountain with masculine colors and tones.
“You can use my toothbrush if you want.” He set his phone on his nightstand and dropped his sweatpants before he pulled back the covers and got inside, lying on his back with his hand behind his head. The sheets reached his waist, showing all his hardness above.
I stared at him in the bed and came closer, my heels moving to the rug around his bed.
“There’re shirts in my dresser.”
There was a bench at the end of the bed, so I sat down and got my heels off, undoing the straps over my feet so they could slide off and tip over onto the rug. When I stood up, I faced the Manhattan lights outside the window, the quietness of a loud city. My hand reached behind my back and found the zipper there. I pinched it between my fingers and slowly pulled it down, letting the material come off my body until it was loose enough that I could pull it over my hips and let it slide the rest of the way to the ground.
The breath Dax took was audible.
I reached behind me and unclasped the black bra. It came loose, and I pulled the straps down. The last thing was the matching thong I wore, so I bent and pushed it over my hips until it slid down my legs to my ankles. I stepped out of it and turned around.
Dax was up against the headboard, a whole new look of intensity I’d never seen before on his face. His dark eyes were on me, and his chest rose and fell at a quicker rate, like his excitement alone made his blood desperate for more oxygen.
My eyes remained on his, watching him visibly desire me, do his best not to drop his gaze and look at my tits, stomach, and the perfectly groomed area between my legs. I pulled the sheets back then crawled into the bed, moving closer to him until our faces were practically touching.
His hand snaked into my hair, but he didn’t kiss me.
I pushed the covers down so I could tug on his boxers, get them over his hips a little, until the top of his hard dick emerged. My intentions were perfectly clear—this was what I wanted; I didn’t want to wait another night…not when I was ready.
He pushed his boxers down before his hand dug into my hair, ignoring the pins and tugging them free as he kissed me. It was a slow kiss, a gentle beginning, and he breathed directly into my mouth once the kiss grew stronger, deeper, more passionate.
He rolled me onto my back, his body moving with mine, his knees separating my thighs as his kiss remained just as intense as before. His mass sank me into his mattress and sheets, and once his cock was pressed against me, it felt like an iron rod with heat running through it.
His lips moved down my neck, over my collarbone, and he secured his hand tightly in my hair to keep my head pinned to the pillow. His tongue glided down, and he kissed both of my breasts, handling my hard nipples with masculine gentleness. He kissed the valley between my breasts, his breaths making my skin wet.
He slowly moved back up, but the kissing stopped.
Now, he just stared at me, his brown eyes on mine, shifting back and forth slightly to take in the look on my face. His hand was still deep in my hair, but he didn’t tug it aggressively. Seconds passed, but his intensity never waned. “I love you.” The silence that followed those words was heavier than the words themselves. He said with such confidence and sincerity that it was obvious it wasn’t something he blurted out in the heat of the moment. He’d felt this way for a while, and now he’d chosen to say it.
My hands stroked up his chest as my heart started to pound right against my rib cage, my pulse loud and vibrating, making my entire body shake. There was a moment of terror, as if those words were painful like a knife to the back. But then all those sensations passed because they weren’t real. My previous life was behind me, all the numbness, all the fear. I was a new person now, my broken heart healed, my trust already placed in this man’s hands. My eyes started to water as my hands moved to his neck, my arms hooking around and bringing him closer, our foreheads touching. “I love you too.”