chapter 20

"ABSOLUTELY NOT." THE WORDS SLIP out before I can stop them.

Dex arches a brow. "Why?"

"Because that car is probably more expensive than my condo."

He rolls his eyes. "Not quite. And so what?"

" So ," I say, "I could scratch it or something." Wrapping my arms around myself, I eye the fob hanging from his tattooed finger. "And I thought you didn't let anyone drive the Rover?"

His smile morphs from playful to soft, and his blue eyes seem to search mine for a moment. "You're not anyone , Nora."

My insides are so fluttery from his words that I don't resist when he takes my hand and places the fob in my palm.

"But first, disguises."

Blinking, I come out of my brief stupor. "Disguises? "

Dex is already heading toward the closet in the entryway. He pulls it open, and I drift closer as he rummages through it. He produces two ball caps, one of which he reaches over and slips onto my head.

"What is this?" I laugh a little, then watch the muscles in his forearms flex as he pulls the ball cap over his blond hair, mesmerized by the tendons moving just under his skin.

"I'll get followed otherwise." The joyfulness is gone from his voice, and he reaches into the closet once more to pull out a bulky bomber jacket and a simple gray hoodie. "Here."

This time when he offers me the hoodie, I don't ask questions. I should've known he can't freely go out into public; now I feel careless for laughing at him. But he doesn't seem too bothered, slipping his arms into the sleeves and zipping the jacket up halfway. When he sees I've not yet put the hoodie on, he pauses.

"Is that okay?"

"Oh, yeah." I pull the cap off, then quickly tug the hoodie over my head. Instantly, I'm enveloped in Dex's smell, and it makes me imagine the soft fabric up against his skin. My cheeks go warm, so I quickly drop my head and busy myself putting my sneakers back on.

How can a hoodie make me want to melt inside?

Shoes snugly on my feet, I finally look up at him, and he's staring at me.

"What?" I glance down at myself. My frayed shorts are hidden beneath the baggy hoodie, and the ball cap casts a shadow over my eyes. When I look back up, Dex is giving me that small smile again, the one that looks partway happy and partway confused. I'm not sure what it means yet .

"Nothing. Let's go."

We head back out into the night, but this time I'm the one getting in on the Rover's driver's side. My hands shake as I buckle the seat belt and adjust the seat and mirror for my height. Dex must see it, because he takes my hand and presses it to his mouth, his lip ring warm against my skin.

"Nora," he says softly, "I trust you. You're about the only person I'd trust with this car." After flashing me a quick smile, he settles back in his chair, looking perfectly comfortable.

If only my heart would stop its erratic sprinting.

Slowly— very slowly—I back out of the carport, and then we're coasting through the Hollywood Hills, and I'm following Dex's directions to get out of the neighborhood and back into the city.

We're just getting onto Santa Monica Boulevard when my phone starts ringing in my bag. Dex pulls it out and turns the phone so I can see.

"It's your mom."

"I'll call her back later."

A weird expression goes across his face, and he looks at the phone screen a moment longer before slipping it back into my bag. I need to watch the road, so I can't fully turn to try to figure out what that look means, but he goes quiet afterward.

"Take this exit," he says, pointing at the big sign overhead.

Looking over my shoulder, I check and double-check that the lane is clear before easing the Rover over.

"So, you're close with your family?" Dex asks as I take the exit.

"Yeah. I don't have siblings, but I'm close with my mom and dad. Which way here?"

"Left. "

The light turns yellow, so I get into the left lane and slow to a stop. Now I'm able to look over at Dex, and he's staring out the window.

"How about you?"

"Hmm?" He turns to look at me, though with the sun mostly set, the interior of the car is dark.

"Are you close with your family?"

"Oh. My dad and I are cool." He hesitates for a moment, tongue darting out to touch his lip ring. "Mom left when I was a kid though. Think I was about four."

The light turns green, illuminating Dex's face. His expression is open, unguarded. I turn my eyes back to the road.

"Have you seen her since then?" My focus is out the windshield, but I listen closely, note Dex's small sigh.

"Yeah. When LGC started to get big, she reached out, said she wanted to reconnect. Dad thought it was a bad idea, but I wanted to see her." He chuckles lowly, but the sound is without humor. "We met up for lunch. She brought the paparazzi. It was the first time I realized how people were gonna use me. Haven't talked to her since."

My hands tighten on the steering wheel, and I'm suddenly very glad I have somewhere to look other than his face. I don't want to say I'm sorry , because that just feels flat, is an easy response for something that must not have been easy at all for him to deal with.

"She shouldn't have done that to you," I say instead, voice soft. It helps to speak when I don't have to look him in the eye. "Mothers are supposed to protect their children, not... exploit them."

Another moment of silence passes, and I'm not sure how Dex feels about what I said. But then there's a gentle touch on the back of my neck, his fingers playing with the soft hair there. Somehow, it feels like an unspoken thank-you.

I pull into the Whole Foods parking lot, and Dex gives me a weird look when I park out in the boonies.

"What are you doing?" he asks, brow arching as he takes in the long distance from us to the building.

"We could use a walk." I adjust the ball cap and unbuckle my seat belt.

"A walk?" His voice is lighter now, that playful edge creeping back in. "This isn't because you're afraid to park close and scratch the car or something?"

Flashing him a smile, I grab my purse and push the door open. "Of course not."

He meets me in front of the car, and the lights flash when I hit the lock button on the fob.

"Okay, remember"—he grabs the bill of my cap and fits it down snug on my head—"we're on a top-secret mission for pancakes."

Under the parking lot lights, his eyes are shadowed, and with the bomber jacket zipped up, I almost can't tell it's him. As long as no one gets too close, his disguise should work.

He grabs my hand, and we set off across the parking lot. People barely glance our way, and when they do, their gazes don't rest on us for long. Dex mostly keeps his head down, letting me lead the way through the store.

"Blueberry or chocolate chip?" I ask after I've put all the other ingredients into our basket.

He contemplates for a moment, then flashes me a quick smile from under his hat. "Both. "

I grab a carton of fresh blueberries and a bag of chocolate chips, then pick up a few more quick ingredients for breakfast in the morning.

Only after I've put oat milk into my basket do I realize I'm expecting to stay the night with him, and it makes my stomach twist uncomfortably. What if he asks me to leave?

I'm staring down at the basket, lost in my anxious thoughts, when an arm loops around my shoulders. When I look up, Dex is gazing down at me, a quirk to his lips.

"Need anything else?" he asks.

I shake my head.

"Sweet. Let's get the fuck out of here."

We go through the self-checkout. I don't have my reusable bags with me, obviously, so Dex slips everything into a couple paper sacks while I finish scanning. He's finding a spot for the carton of blueberries when I pull my wallet out and quickly swipe my card. After putting the wallet away, I look over to find him staring at me, a furrow between his brows.

"What?" I ask, glancing around as if something's wrong.

"I could've paid for that," he says.

The tightening of my chest loosens. "You bought dinner at Luxe. I'll treat you tonight."

There's still a weird look on his face, but it softens when I smile at him. He picks up the bags, one in each hand, and I get a thrill when his blue eyes catch mine.

"Whatever you say, Little Monster."

BACK AT HIS HOUSE, I get to work whipping up batter for the pancakes. Dex sits at the island in the kitchen, arms crossed on the marble countertop, watching me. It feels weird at first, having an audience while I cook, but I settle into it after a short time, and his lighthearted conversation makes it more comfortable.

I'm flipping a chocolate chip pancake in the skillet when Dex suddenly sits up straight, and I glance over to find his brows scrunched in concern.

"Is Margot gonna be okay?" he asks.

The pancake sizzles, putting off sweet-smelling steam. "What do you mean?"

"You're with me tonight. Will she be okay alone?"

One thought hits me hard: He's expecting me to stay the night.

A big smile stretches across my face, and it just makes his face scrunch further.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing. She'll be fine for one night. She's got plenty of food and water, and I think she secretly likes having the bed to herself."

His shoulders relax, and I turn back to the pancakes before he can see how happy his question made me. The chocolate chip pancake is done, so I sweep it out of the pan and onto a plate that's already holding three others: one more chocolate chip and two blueberry. I put a pad of butter on each, then turn to place the plate in front of Dex. My plate is already ready, so I carry it to the island and take a seat next to him.

By the time I sit down, he's halfway through a chocolate chip pancake.

I drizzle a small amount of maple syrup over mine, then start in on a blueberry pancake. Somehow, even with Dex watching me the whole time, I was able to pull these off. They're fluffy and soft and perfectly golden on the outside.

Beside me, Dex chuckles to himself, and I turn to him with a quizzical brow.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing," he says, which I find slightly infuriating. Lifting his gaze to mine, he gives me a little smirk. "Tell me, Nora Miller"—he stabs another bite of pancake while he speaks—"how many other men have you cooked pancakes for?"

"Seriously?" I'm trying not to let my lips pull into a smile, but they really want to.

"Seriously." Slipping the bite into his mouth, he chews intently, eyes still focused on me.

Silence stretches between us, and the longer I take to answer the question, the harder it gets. I don't know why I'm hesitant. Maybe because I feel like my answer will seem like a red flag to him or something. But then again, what do I expect from him? It's not like he's going to ask me to be his girlfriend—the thought is almost laughable—so what does it matter?

"Come on, Monster. Tell me."

My sigh is playfully aggravated. "None."

His eyebrows rise. "None? Really?"

I nod, and his smile just gets bigger. Back when I was with College Boyfriend, I didn't really cook. That's something I picked up after I moved to LA, when the city was so loud and overwhelming that I needed a hobby I could do by myself, tucked safely away inside my house.

"I'm your first, huh?" he asks, arching a brow. His voice is lower now, and it flips a switch in me. Like striking a match, my want for him flares to life .

Turning on the stool, I narrow my eyes, take in the set of his jaw and the sandy stubble shadowing his chin. "Do you like that?" My tone matches his—low, hungry . "Do you like being my first?"

In the blink of an eye, his hands are around my waist, lifting me off my stool and onto the marble countertop. It's cold against my bare legs, and the sensation makes me gasp.

"I wanna be your first everything ." His words come out in a harsh whisper, and then his mouth is on my neck, his lip ring pressing against my skin.

I tip my head back, lose myself in the feeling of his tongue gliding across my skin.

"You're the first man who ever tasted me," I say between heavy breaths. The memory of his mouth between my legs blossoms to life in my mind. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it—about you ."

Dex groans against my neck. "My dick is so hard for you, Monster." He grabs my hand and moves it to the bulge straining against his jeans.

Heat pools between my legs.

I scoot myself to the edge of the counter so I can wrap my thighs around him. Tightening my hold, I tug him closer, wanting to feel his arousal between my legs.

One hand slipping around the back of my head, Dex pulls me in. His lips find mine, and I let his tongue into my mouth. He tastes sweet, like chocolate and maple syrup. The plates sit behind me on the countertop, abandoned, discarded in the face of true hunger.

Releasing my head, Dex reaches down with both hands, pulls the button of my shorts free on the first try, and yanks the fabric off, leaving me in a thong on his marble countertop. I grab the bottom of his T-shirt, and he lifts his arms so I can pull it over his head.

Unlike our first time together, when everything was slow, now our movements are hurried, as if we'll both die of thirst if we don't soon drown in each other.

His inked skin draws me in, makes me brush my fingertips across his chest. I trace my fingers over the sword, run them down the length of his sternum. When I get to his abdomen, his muscles tighten, and goose bumps pebble across his skin.

With a grunt, he grabs my ass and lifts me off the counter. I wrap my legs around him again, my arms encircling his neck. Our kiss deepens, and Dex lets out a low growl when I pull away just enough to drag my tongue across his lips, tasting the metal he wears.

He carries me into the living room and sets me on the back of the couch. When I look down, I see how tight his jeans have become, feel my body heat up at his eagerness to be free.

At his eagerness to have me.

I grab the button on his jeans with trembling fingers, and he moans when I pry it loose. Then I'm shimmying his pants down over his hips, and my tongue wets my lips when he springs free.

Fuck, he looks good.

Dex steps out of his jeans and kicks them aside. I grab the hem of my T-shirt, needing to get this clothing off, and pull it over my head, along with the bralette I'm wearing. Dex watches me drop the fabric to the floor, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. My nipples harden beneath his gaze.

"Kiss me," I say.

So he does .

His mouth crashes into mine again, and I drag my hands through his hair. Dex reaches for my hips, for the last piece of thin fabric still separating us. He grabs my thong, yanks it over my legs, and flings it across the kitchen.

As his gaze shifts down, I open my legs for him, let him see how wet I am. And in response, his length throbs.

He sweeps me up, and now I'm in his arms again, naked against his body, legs around him. He carries me across the living room, pausing only to hit a switch on the wall, casting us into darkness. The firelight flickers in the living room, and the city lights send dim colors sparkling across the walls.

Cold glass presses into my back, makes me gasp against Dex's mouth. Every sensation is heightened; it feels like my nerve endings are on fire.

Dex pushes me firmly against the sliding glass door, braces my body against it. I think briefly of the neighbors, wonder if anyone can see us. The thought makes me even more wet.

Let them see.

Hands gripping my ass cheeks, Dex slides me slowly down his firm body. The head of his dick touches my entrance, teases me. He holds me there until I finally whimper my protests.

"Look at me." Dex breaks our kiss, pulling back so he can see my face.

Breathless, I settle my head back against the glass. His lips are slightly swollen, cheeks flushed, and the muscles in his jaw are taut. I can see how he clenches his teeth; it makes me want to drag my tongue along his neck .

Like me, he's completely naked, save for the heavy chain hanging around his neck. I see flashes of that chain in my dreams, have fantasized about him using it to shackle my hands above my head.

The next thing I know, the chain is in my grasp, warm from where it sits against Dex's skin, and I twist it in my hand, relishing the pinch of his skin as it tightens around his neck. Then I'm dragging my tongue along the links, tasting the mix of metal and salt.

And this time when Dex growls into my ear, it's feral.

He slams me up against the glass, forcing a gasp from my lungs.

"Tighter," he whispers into my ear.

So I twist the chain tighter, until Dex winces at the metal digging into his skin. He can't pull away now, is trapped eye to eye with me. And I'm looking deep into his blue eyes when he finally lowers me onto his dick.

Immediately, I release his chain, and he drags in a heavy breath, sinking himself deep into me. His teeth are on my neck, trailing across my shoulder, and then there's a burst of pain when he bites down— hard . At the same time, he thrusts into me, and I cry out.

My skin is slick on the glass, my body sliding up and down each time he sinks his length into me. He releases my shoulder from his jaws, lifts me off his dick, and then lowers me to my bare feet.

"If you wanna play with my chains," he growls into my ear, spinning me around so my ass is pressed up against him, "you'll have to say please."

I hesitate, panting for breath .

What he doesn't know is that I'd beg at his feet, would bow before his altar if it meant I got to feel his mouth on me one more time, feel the heat of his gaze as it moves across my skin.

" Please ," I whisper.

"Please what?" He reaches around the front of my body, slides his fingers between my legs. His touch makes me gasp, and I push myself against him, wanting more.

"Please," I repeat, slower this time, "put me in your chains."

Against my ass cheeks, his dick gets harder.

I'm pressed against the door, hands on the cool glass, and all I hear is Dex's heavy breathing and the clinking of links as the metal falls from his neck.

"Just because you beg so pretty," he whispers into my ear.

Then he grabs both my hands and yanks them up over my head. There's the bite of a chain around my wrists. My heartbeat pounds between my thighs as he wraps the chain once, twice, then grips the excess in his tatted hand. He's so much taller than me, he doesn't struggle at all to pull my arms to their limits, trapping my body against the glass. The cold touches my nipples, and my breathing grows heavier.

Not bothering to be gentle, he drives himself into me again. His free hand comes around to find my clit, and his touch has me losing myself in this moment.

Everything is sparkling color blurred across a dark background, cold glass and the heat of our bodies, the pinch of the chains and the softness of his fingers between my legs.

I never cum this fast—didn't think I could —but the wave is rising, and I don't even need to chase it. Dex is the one taking me there, ravishing my body, doing with it what he will as his tongue traces the shell of my ear.

I'm almost there. I'm pulling on the chain, my legs wanting to give out, but he doesn't let up, doesn't slow down.

" Dex ," I whisper, his name curling like poetry across my tongue.

Then he sends me into oblivion.

The pain from the links around my wrists just heightens my pleasure, and my head falls back, resting on Dex's shoulder as I cum and pulse around his dick, growing wetter as he pounds into me. His fingers still work in circles, drawing moans from my swollen lips.

I never knew sex could feel like this, didn't think my body capable of succumbing so easily to a man's touch.

But in Dex's hands, everything is different. In his hands, pleasure is not only attainable, it's delicious .

I'm still riding my orgasm when he thrusts into me one last time, his broad chest pressing me hard against the sweat-slick glass. With a moan, he pulls out, and his heat explodes all over my low back.

We're gasping, bodies glistening with sweat. His reflection catches my gaze in the glass, and we both look thoroughly ravaged.

Slowly, Dex releases the grip of the chain around my wrists, and the links slide off in one smooth movement. My arms tingle a bit as I lower them. The skin around my wrists is sensitive, but I like it. I want them to bruise, want to see the marks he left on me.

Little Monster indeed.

A gentle hand wraps around my belly, and then Dex is turning me around, easing me back against the glass so he can press a kiss to my lips. I'm soft under him, trembling and weak in the knees, and it's all I can do to keep standing.

"How about a shower?" he asks when he pulls away.

I nod. With a gentle smile, he sweeps me into his arms, then carries me up the stairs to the bedroom.

We shower together, and somehow, I'm not as nervous as I thought I'd be, even with the lights turned on.

The shower runs the length of the bathroom; we could probably fit another eight people in here. The sandstone floor under my feet smells minerally when the hot water hits it, and the rain showerhead makes me feel like I'm in a luxurious hotel.

Dex soaps my skin, washes every inch of me with such tenderness that tears come to my eyes, and I'm grateful the shower disguises the emotion coursing down my face.

Because I've fallen for him. Wholly. Irrevocably.

My chest aches at the thought of not being near him, of not hearing his laugh or watching his lips pull back in that signature smirk.

I'm not going to say it. I don't even want to think it. But it creeps in anyway.

Am I falling in love with him?

That day in the parking lot, he told me not to, and I was certain there was no way that would ever happen. But then he looked at me with those eyes, touched me with those hands, and I relinquished everything to him.

I should fight it more, should be terrified.

And perhaps I am .

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.