chapter 15

THE NEXT MORNING, I'M IN the kitchen eating fresh strawberries out of a bowl and scratching Margot behind the ear when my bedroom door cracks open and Dex steps out, clad in his jeans and nothing else. When I woke up early this morning, I folded his clothes and placed them on my dresser for him, then slipped out and closed the door so I wouldn't wake him.

Now he's padding into the kitchen, barefoot and shirtless and way too sexy for a man who just rolled out of bed.

"Good morning," I say, already fully awake, and he yawns as he settles himself into a chair at my tiny kitchen table. "You want coffee?"

" Please ." His voice is raspy with sleep, and I wish it weren't such a turn-on.

"How do you like it?" I ask as I open the cupboard and pull out a coffee cup in the shape of a medieval tankard; I'm pretty sure Dex will appreciate it .

"As long as there's coffee in it, I'll like it," he says, then yawns again and stretches his arms over his head. His golden hair is tousled and beautiful, like a halo in the morning light.

I pour him a coffee, add a splash of frothy oat milk, and then place the mug on the table next to the bowl of strawberries. He takes a sip and looks like he's about to melt through my kitchen floor.

Smiling, I return to the stove, where I'm making blueberry pancakes. I flip the last pancake onto a platter, then carry it to the table and set it beside the spread of butter, jam, peanut butter, and syrup.

Dex's eyes go wide, as if he just noticed everything set out on the kitchen table.

"You made these?" He sounds incredulous, and it makes me laugh.

"Yeah. You woke up just in time to eat them hot." I pass him a plate, then give Margot one last scratch, grab my coffee, and join him at the table.

He puts two pancakes onto his plate, seeming to debate his topping of choice for a moment. Finally, he opts for the peanut butter, and I grab the jam.

After taking a bite, Dex moans. "This is insane. I haven't had homemade pancakes since I was a kid."

"Not much of a cook?" I ask, and he scoffs and stuffs another bite into his mouth.

I'll take that as a no.

Margot jumps from the kitchen counter onto the table. Dex immediately reaches out to pet her on the head, and she starts to purr. I'm amazed at how much she likes him already. It was like love at first sight .

The thought reminds me of the first day at the studio, when I turned to find Dex leaning in the doorway, and as I watch him scratch Margot's chin and take another bite of pancake, I wonder how we got here—and how I'm ever going to be okay once he leaves.

Thinking about him walking out my door makes a knot form in my stomach.

I should not be this into him. I know where this leads.

A phone chimes from somewhere in the living room, and Dex takes a sip of coffee before standing and going to retrieve it. I admire his bare torso as he walks away, how the muscles in his back flex as he bends to search the floor for his cell. He finally finds the phone under the couch, and after squinting at the screen for a moment, he looks up at me and smiles.

"It's Ashton. She said they released the track today."

My eyes go wide. "What? Already?"

"Yeah. Check it out." Crossing the living room into the kitchen, he holds his phone out, and I blink at the screen. He's got "Ghost" pulled up on some music app I'm not familiar with, and the number of listens and likes keeps climbing.

"It has almost a million listens already." My gaze flicks up to him. "Is that normal?"

He just smiles, slips his phone into his back pocket, and offers me a hand. Slowly, I reach up and take it. Dex guides me to my feet. He wraps his arms around my middle and pulls me in for a hug. His chest is firm under my hands, his skin warm as I reach around him to return the embrace.

Tears threaten to rise up in my eyes again, but this time I don't have an orgasm to blame. I quickly force them down before Dex can see what he does to me .

"Thank you," he says into my hair, and goose bumps rise on my arms when he trails his fingertips up and down my back, his hands gliding over my T-shirt.

"For what?" I whisper, afraid that if I talk too loud, this moment—which could very possibly be a dream—will vanish into nothingness. It's like he's a rare creature, and one wrong move or sound will scare him away forever. Even in my arms, he feels intangible, unreal.

Dex doesn't say anything, just squeezes me a bit tighter. Then he pulls away, sits back down, and loads two more pancakes onto his plate.

Honestly, I expected Dex to leave after we had sex last night, so the fact he's sitting on my couch at noon is mind-boggling to me. We've been playing Legend of Volthorn and checking the song's ranking, and Dex jumps up off the couch when it hits number one.

"Fuck," he says, one hand buried in his hair. "This is insane. People fucking love it." His gaze shifts to me. "They love you ."

I'm about to roll my eyes and tell him how ridiculous that is, but he sinks back onto the couch and presses a kiss against my mouth before I can get the words out. Then he's stealing the controller out of my hands, pausing my game, and running a hand through my hair in a way that makes my insides dance.

In his hands, I melt like butter, and there's no resistance in me as he lifts me up and into his lap. The afternoon sunlight streams through the windows, bright and yellow and warm, and it turns Dex's eyes a lighter shade of blue, like the Colorado sky on a frigid winter day.

Suddenly, I want to take him home, back to the town I grew up in. I want to show him the elementary school I attended and buy him hot chocolate at my favorite coffee shop. I want to know what he'd look like standing in a winter storm, cheeks pink from the cold and eyelashes sprinkled with snowflakes. The longing to have him rises up in me so fiercely that it takes my breath away.

He's staring back at me, brow slightly furrowed, his lip ring shining in the light. His hand, tattooed and calloused from the guitar strings, traces the line of my cheek, then pushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

"You're fucking beautiful."

The way he says it, with a hint of something that almost sounds like reverence, makes me want to believe him. But I'm just me. Just Nora. And he's...

Exquisite.

Something must cross my face, because his eyes narrow, seeming to study me.

"What?" he asks, twirling a lock of my hair around his finger.

All I can do is shake my head. "Nothing."

"There's no such thing, Nora."

Fuck. The way he says my name, it's like magic, and it does things to me I wish it wouldn't.

Dex's phone starts to ring, startling us both, and I pull away and slide off his lap. I need to clear to my head. He could probably make me forget my own name .

"What's up?" he says into the phone as I pad into the kitchen and grab a glass from the cupboard. "Okay, man. I'm at Nora's."

A thrill goes through me. He's not hiding it, isn't pretending like I don't exist. Which I suppose is what I've expected all along. I thought he'd be embarrassed of me. After all, I'm certainly not the caliber of woman he's used to being with.

There's a pause, and though I can't hear what the person on the phone says, it makes Dex smile mischievously, and his eyes find mine from across the kitchen. The look he gives me sends heat curling between my legs, and I quickly down the rest of my water.

"All right, I'll text you the address. Later." Dex hangs up the phone and stuffs it into his pocket, then stands from the couch. "Michael's on his way. Gotta go film promo for the tour."

"Oh. Okay."

He has to leave sometime, obviously, but it's still a letdown. Maybe it's for the best. Having him here, all I want to do is kiss him and touch him and watch the way his mouth moves when he smiles. He's a distraction, an ocean I could easily drown in.

And I can't let that happen.

Dex moves toward me, and as he passes through the shafts of sunlight streaming through the windows, his hair turns a shade of shimmering gold. Not for the first time, I wonder how it's humanly possible to look so carelessly and effortlessly gorgeous.

"So," he says, leaning against the kitchen counter and crossing his arms over his bare chest .

"So," I echo, suddenly feeling like I'm standing naked on a brightly lit stage.

When he looks at me like that, it's like he's able to see through me, can see exactly what I'm thinking, and it makes me start to shut down; he can't know what he does to me, what I feel when I hear his voice. When I look away and begin absently scratching at a nonexistent stain on the countertop, Dex starts to laugh.

"What?" I ask.

"You're getting shy again."

"No," I snap, crossing my arms in a stance that matches his. "I'm not shy."

"No?" His voice is playful, taunting. "Are you sure?"

Now he's closing the distance between us, stealing my breath away as he pushes me back against the cabinets. He braces his hands on the counter on either side of me, and my pulse thunders in response to his proximity. I have to tip my head back to meet his stare, and when I do, he arches an eyebrow. The challenge goes unspoken, but I feel it.

If he thinks I'm going to shrink away, he's wrong.

I can be brave.

Rising onto my toes, I bring my lips close to his. We're a breath away from each other, so close I can see the different shades of gray and blue in his irises. But I don't kiss him, and he doesn't kiss me.

It feels like a gravitational pull is dragging me toward him, and I resist it, fight the urge to succumb to my desire for him. He brushes his nose against mine, then trails it across my cheek and down my neck. The subtle touch makes my hair stand on end, sends an electric current racing over my skin .

And all my body wants— craves —is his touch, his hands, his mouth. I close my eyes and tip my head to the side, exposing my neck. Dex draws his fingers across my bare skin, pushes my hair back so he can press his lips against my flesh. And when he does, a sigh slips through my lips. That's all it takes for me to become lost in him.

Now I'm drifting on the tumultuous sea that is Dex Reid, softening into him as his hands cup my waist. Then he lifts me onto the counter and pushes my knees apart so he can settle his hips between my legs.

"Nora Miller," he whispers, hands trailing up and down my thighs as his gaze seems to search my face. "What's your middle name, Little Monster?"

His nickname makes my lips curl involuntarily into a smile, and there's no way he doesn't see it.

"Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth," Dex whispers. "Nora Elizabeth Miller." He reaches up and pushes his hand through my hair. I lean into his touch, my eyes closing.

I shouldn't want this , I try to tell myself, but there's no conviction in the thought. I've tried to fight this, but now my resolve slips like sand through Dex's fingers as his hand trails through my hair.

I open my eyes and find his blue gaze inches from mine. "What's yours?"

"My middle name?"

I nod.

He smiles, big and bright, and his lip ring winks in the morning sunlight. "I can't remember the last time someone asked me that." He chuckles, more to himself than anything. "It's Owen. "

"Dexter Owen Reid," I say, my voice lilting playfully.

His lips pucker into a smirk. "You're lucky you're so cute," he says. "My grandmother is the only one who calls me Dexter."

"Off-limits, then?" I tilt my head to one side, and the smile slips slowly from Dex's lips. He seems to consider it for a moment, his fingers tracing little circles on my thigh.

"No, not off-limits. Not for you."

My chest squeezes. My words seize up in my throat.

How is this happening?

I lift a hand slowly, tentatively, my fingertips inching toward Dex's face. When I hesitate a moment longer, he shifts, turning his cheek into my touch. The contact sends butterflies swarming through my belly. I cup his face, trail my thumb across his lips. His lip ring is smooth and hard, the metal warm from his body heat.

"I've never kissed anyone with a lip ring before," I say. The words slip out before I consider how stupid they sound.

But Dex smiles. "You've kissed me."

My cheeks grow warm. "Well, besides you."

He leans in. The seconds become minutes. Then his lips are on mine, and time no longer exists. There's just his mouth on my mouth, my fingers in his hair. Dex squeezes my thighs, and I wrap my legs around him, locking my ankles and drawing him in until I feel the pressure of his hips between my legs.

When I'm kissing him, I lose a part of myself—the part that feels insecure, awkward, unsure. His kiss makes me feel powerful, and my body reacts to him instinctually. Unlike every other moment in my life, I don't have to think about what to do; I just do it .

Too soon, Dex pulls away, leaving me breathless and hungry for more.

"And?" he says, breath tickling my neck as he nuzzles his nose into the soft spot just beneath my ear.

I can't even remember what we were talking about. "And what?"

"And what do you think? About kissing me."

Oh. Right.

"It's . . ."

Euphoric. Intoxicating. Terrifying.

Just as I open my mouth, Dex's phone rings. He reaches quickly into his pocket to silence it, then looks up at me expectantly. But there's no way I can tell him everything that's running through my head. There is a limit to how much embarrassment I can stand.

"Do I make you speechless, Nora Elizabeth Miller?"

"Oh my gosh," I whisper, putting my hands on his broad chest and pushing him back so I can slide off the counter. "I should never have told you my middle name."

"Why?" He sounds hurt. "I like it."

I roll my eyes lightheartedly, then dart my gaze to his pocket. "Was that Michael?"

"Probably." He slips the cell from his pocket, his eyes darting quickly across the screen. "Yeah."

Dex steps back, and I finally catch my breath. Being near him is like being caught in a rainstorm with thunder and lightning and screaming wind—I can't think straight, can barely feel my feet on the ground.

"He's outside."

Dex disappears into my bedroom, then returns with his white T-shirt on. Ambling into the living room, he starts gathering up his belongings: belt, wallet, sunglasses. Watching him, my stomach pinches.

I don't want him to erase himself. I want to see him everywhere: eating breakfast at my kitchen table, playing Legend of Volthorn in the living room, sleeping soundly in my bed.

But soon he's sliding his sunglasses on and moving toward the door. Maybe this is the moment where he disappears, where this fantasy I've been living in for the past twenty-four hours finally comes to an end.

Dex holds out his hand, and I couldn't stop myself taking it even if I wanted to.

We walk to the door together, then onto the front steps. Michael's black SUV is parked in the driveway, windows down, a song I don't recognize leaking out into the afternoon air. He smiles and waves when he sees me, so I lift my hand and wave hesitantly back.

Dex takes one step down, then another, and now we're at about the same height. Tugging my hand, he pulls me in, and his lips find mine again.

I think to be nervous that Michael can see us, but when Dex is touching me, I realize I don't care. Anyone and everyone could see, and I'd still just want him.

"Bye, Little Monster," he whispers against my lips.

"Bye, Dexter Owen Reid."

Sunlight reflecting off his sunglasses, he smiles and starts down the stairs. "Don't let Lucas hear you say that," he says over his shoulder. "I'll never hear the fucking end of it."

He jumps down the last two steps, then jogs to Michael's passenger door. Just as he opens it, two girls out for a run see him, and they nearly trip on their own designer sneakers. One squeals, reaching for the phone tucked in her arm band, and I can almost swear the other one starts to cry.

Dex flashes them a smile, then turns and gives me one last look before climbing into the SUV and closing the door. One girl has her phone out now, snapping photos erratically as Michael eases out of the driveway and starts down the road.

And standing there on my front step, feeling the emptiness Dex leaves behind, I think this might be the loneliest I've ever been.