Chapter Six
Monica
Whether it’s grateful or sexual, I don’t fucking care. His soft lips and hard pressure will end me. He slides his tongue against mine, and I open easily for him. I clutch at his shirt.
“Fuck.” He sits up, and I feel the loss like someone shot my puppy. His face is way too earnest. I scoot up to face him. “I was terrified when I saw you pinned under that beam.” As he speaks, his fingers trace my jaw and lips.
“Zachary.” He grins as I call him by his real name. His name became Dax when his baby brother couldn’t pronounce it. “Can you hold me? And tell me those sweet things again?”
“I could.” He drifts a finger over my collarbone, and I sigh at the soft caress. Then he catches himself caring. He stands abruptly as if I’d stop him from touching me, re-buttoning his shirt. Bye-bye pretty peek of a perfect pec. “Colt’s dad sent people.”
I grab the discarded papers and read the opening lines.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like that, tossing the love of my life against a brick wall and kissing the hell out of her. The single greatest moment of my life, and the one that holds more regret than soil can hold water.
My stomach bottoms out. He regrets sleeping with me. I can’t yell at him about not wanting me, so I’ll scream about something else.
“Zachary Faneuil Ladd! Did you get the freaking Vice President involved?”
“He leaned on the Department of the Interior. No big deal.” He shrugs and says, “You’re hurt. We’re trapped.”
“I’m not that hurt, and the snow will clear.”
“That tree that took out your place, yeah, that’s blocking all kinds of access to us. Not even Morty could get to us without a chainsaw.”
“Don’t underestimate a moosearaptor.”
He smirks at me. “You heard?”
“I saw a moron reasoning with a moose.” I shift my tone to pretending I didn’t read the rejection. “Where’s the rest of this book?” He walks to the kitchen, side-stepping furniture.
“Moose.” I pause to see if there’s more to that sentence. “Coffee?” I throw a pillow at his back.
“Do not one-word me. Is that big envelope the rest of this book?”
He’s annoyed. And his stupid sweatpants just dipped, so I can see the notches of his hips peeking out at the sides of his shirt. Stop being sexy. He purses his lips. “No. Gone.”
“Hey, Mr. Sexypants, indifferent to everything and me.” My voice rises. “Don’t stop talking to me. What did you do? Where’s the rest of your book?”
He considers his words. Then walks to me and tries to take the pages from me. I pull back and win.
“Jesus, you’re buff,” he says and I grin.
“Talk.”
“No,” He gruffs. “Why does everyone know where you are but me?”
“So, I see you want to start with something easy. Answer me first. Where’s the rest?”
He rakes his hair back then grunts, looking at the ceiling and balling his fists.
I scold. “Tell me.” He flops down in a displaced chair. He flicks his eyes to the fire. Realization grips me, as I clutch my heart and sit up.
“You burned it?” He nods. “Dax.” My voice drips with anxiety. “Because it’s bad? Or because it reminded you that you can’t stand to be with me?”
He leans forward. His voice is dark and cutting. “Are you fucking kidding me, beautiful?” My body flares. His murmurs and the memories of him kissing my forehead and holding me most of the night flood back. I cock my head, and he cantilevers up in one fluid motion storming over. “You’re making me say this. Fine. Here it is and after I’ve said it, you can tell me to fuck off, but I can’t hold this any longer.”
He cages me to the bed with straight arms. “Why wouldn’t I burn a perfectly brilliant book if it could save you? What the fuck aren’t you getting? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do or give to make sure you’re okay. I tapped the second most powerful person in the free world, for you, not Morty.”
I gasp. He stands up and puts his hands on his hips. His voice drops a bit, but maintains the same intensity.
“I was going to your cabin to tell you this. I know you don’t want me, and it fucking tears at me all the time. So, I rewrote my great American novel into a fantasy, where we work out. Where if in the middle of the night if I dream of you, I can have you. You, Monica, are brighter than any fire or desire I will ever feel.”
He takes my face in his hands and then puts his forehead to mine. My heart races, and I swallow back the tears I try to never shed.
“Everything I do is for you: to avoid you, to push you from my mind or to pull your memory closer. To immortalize, laud and cherish you. Always for you. So why the fuck wouldn’t I burn everything I own to save you? Why wouldn’t I do that shit? SweeTart, I will forever be a slave to you even though you want nothing to do with me. It’s all for you. I can’t fucking stop,” he whispers before stepping away, leaving me breathless.
I try to put words together. Nothing is ever all for me, it’s why I left. Sophie had his heart and his attention. Work. His writing. His family. Nothing was about me. I’m everyone’s buddy. Their cheerleader. I’m the third wheel. I’m the plus one, never the one.
He goes to the only place with a door. I don’t get everything I want only for it to hide in the bathroom.
“You can’t have a word explosion then hide. I’ll hobble over there, and you know I can rip the door off the hinges. I’m that swole now.” No response. “I have to pee.” I knew it would work. The door opens and I lift the covers. Tears well up as I look at my mottled legs and wrapped ankle.
He rushes back to me. “Shh. Just bruising.” I snuggle into him. He carries me to the bathroom. “Do you need help from here?” He squats down so we’re face to face.
Almost dying makes me brave. “I left because you didn’t want me. You were always going to choose her.” He looks down, and stares at me sideways.
He asks, “That’s why you left? You thought that?”
“The Sophie problem was yours to figure out and I didn’t want to be rejected.” He stands up and steps out of the room, closing the door but doesn’t walk away.
“How? You didn’t return my calls. Then you ran away to the woods and out of my arms. You didn’t even give me a chance to choose you. Pee, Monica.”
“I don’t have to go. I ran because I didn’t want to be left. I made that choice for you.”
The door whips open. “Then what do you want with me?” he yells.
“Really? Everything,“ I scream back.
There’s a stare and then he carries me to bed. “I can’t take it if you’re fucking with me. If I can have you, that is everything. Is that what you’re telling me? No more hiding in trees?“ he says.
“Fine, but you can’t avoid being a writer by chasing a woman who doesn’t deserve you.” He nods sharply. I plead. “Tell me you want me, only me.” I beat on my ripped open chest.
“I’ve only ever truly wanted you, SweeTart.” Not sweetheart, but SweeTart.
“I know you love them, but why are you calling me that?”
He grins. “It’s my favorite candy and taste.” He winks and says, “How are you feeling?” His sexy eyebrow is up, and my ankle is sore but ok. The bruises don’t matter right now. “I can make tea, or I can make you feel good? Little shot of dopamine for the pain,” Dax says as his lips feather over my ear.
I grip his shirt and nip his neck. Then I kiss where I gave him a tiny bite. He sets me onto the bed removing the scraps of my destroyed pajama bottoms. “Don’t make me resist you anymore.”
I breathe out his name like a prayer and the key to our survival. The storm, panic, pain and doubt get pushed away as I chase the lust in his eyes.
“Dax.”
He props my leg on a pillow and in doing so, he opens me up to him. He stares at me, and gently runs his hand up my good leg. I watch his fingers reverently touch me, and I shudder. His luminous blue eyes snap to mine, and he swings his head to take in my whole body. “Cold?”
“Overheated,” I say, biting my bottom lip.
He smirks and says, “Arms up.” I obey him and he removes the hoodie and shirt. My nipples are hard and peaked instantly, as he groans and licks between my breasts, settling me back down. I’m naked for him, the firelight dancing around us. He steps away and stokes the fire.
I graze my stomach lightly, and he watches the movement. “Talk to me,” I command.
He exhales, smiles, and removes his shirt. He’s more ripped than I remember.
He shakes his head at me. “SweeTart, I’ve said all I’m going to say for now. Except the reminder that you’re the one who took all this chemistry with you. Now that I have it back, I’m going to devour your pussy like a starving man, and you’re going to come like the naughty girl you are. Walking away was fucking stupid. My heart has always wanted you.”
“Just your heart?” I lean up as he crawls between my legs.
“Right now, my cock is in charge, and he wants to me to taste that tart candy you’ve got between your legs.” I open my mouth and he grips my pussy. “Shh. Time to come, Monica.” I love this part of Dax.
“I’ll hold back because you’re hurt. Know I want to rip you apart, then knit you back together with pleasure.” As he nips and kisses up my good leg, his fingers circling me and dragging my wetness to my clit. I tremble again as he hovers near my slit. “Fuck, you smell perfect and you’re glistening for me.”
He growls against my skin, “Fucking unleash me. Let me have you.”
“You’ve always had me. You just didn’t notice.”