Chapter 28
28
FIONA
I had no idea what came over Dax the night before. Waking me with his head between my legs? Holy hell. He’d been voracious and thorough. Attentive. Oddly… sweet. No, not sweet. I didn’t know what it was, but we hadn’t yelled at each other. We hadn’t threatened to use our guns. We hadn’t even really talked, other than me saying Yes and Harder and I need it and Dax murmuring filthy, amazing things in my ear as he first ate me out to one orgasm, then fucked me through two more.
That was why, when I woke at five with him wrapped around me and I smiled, I knew I was in trouble. I had to slip out of bed. Give myself some space. He was warm and hard–everywhere–and cozy and I felt protected and other things I couldn’t process this early in the morning without coffee.
Where did Dax even live? He said he wasn’t from Coal Springs. Did he have a house here? If he did, he didn’t use it.
It scared me. He scared me. Not in an I’m-in-danger kind of way, but more what-the-fuck-is-going-on scenario. This, the warm bed, was so dangerous.
What was I doing getting comfortable with a guy? Letting him break into my house over and over and not shoot him or at least have him arrested?
Letting him climb beneath my covers, wake me from sleep, and fuck me? He wanted me, his hard dick and insatiable sexual appetite was a giveaway. But he wouldn’t have come back from whatever he did in Denver and climb into my bed if he didn’t want to be there.
If he didn’t like me, he didn’t have to see me. Or lick my pussy. Or fuck me.
Or worse. Hold me. Spoon me. Kiss the back of my head.
He wasn’t going to hit me or verbally abuse me like my father had. I was way past that kind of fuckery and would have put him down like a rabid dog. But he was going to fuck me over. Somehow. Maybe just walk right on out of my life when he was done with me.
Because he would be. Soon. He’d wring from me whatever it was that he wanted, then move on.
Dottie would, too. She’d see the real me and change her mind about bringing me food and taking me to craft night and telling me she was proud of me.
I could handle that, but it would suck. I’d been letting my guard down, or they’d been slipping beneath it like they snuck into my house without having a key.
It was all going to end, but I was going to do it on my terms. I’d walk out first. Starting right now, grabbing my gun, pulling on my running gear and slipping out of the house.
Sure, the orgasms were great, and so was five-dollar prize money, but I was in Coal Springs to take down the pickle people. Arrest the bad guys. Confirm I was a good agent. That the bad guys always lost.
That was why my morning run took me downtown. Before I could make it past the second block on Dreidel Lane, a car stopped in the middle of the intersection in front of me.
I stopped, tipped my head up to the dark sky.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dax snapped after he got out, then approached. His car was still running, the driver’s door opened.
“Running,” I said, my escaping ragged breaths making huge puffy clouds.
“From me?”
I set my hands on my hips. “What? No.”
“Really, then why aren’t we in bed instead of standing in the middle of the street before dawn?”
“Because–”
“Because you think I don’t know the second you get out of bed? You’re going to that fucking pickle shop again. With a gun.” He waved his hand and pointed, although I wasn’t sure how he could see my shoulder holster beneath my heavy fleece top.
I frowned, then grumbled, “I need to know what’s going on.”
He ran a frustrated hand over the back of his neck. “We’ve been through this. I thought we’re doing this together.”
“The last time you helped me, you said I was pregnant.” I couldn’t think of much worse.
“Why can’t we sleep in and watch them from the bookstore?”
“I watched the shop for hours yesterday when you left me in that bookstore,” I reminded.
He stepped closer and took my hand. Took my hand. “We’re doing this together.” His voice wasn’t angry and that was a problem. A calm Dax confused me.
I shook my head. “No.”
He squeezed my fingers. “Yes. Why can’t you accept help?”
“Why do you want to give it? What’s in it for you?”
“I want you safe.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“You’re supposed to be my fake girlfriend,” he added.
“Exactly. Fake. ” I tugged my hand from his. “You’re acting like a real boyfriend.”
“What? Watching out for you so you don’t do something reckless? Helping you? ”
I flung my arms wide. “YES!”
A dog barked in the distance from my shout. Dax stepped closer.
“Why do you hate it when someone does something for you?”
“Because I’m not your problem.”
His eyes narrowed. “Can’t someone take care of you?”
“Take care of me?” I set my hand on my chest. “I take care of me. This? It’s not real. This is all fake, remember?”
He stared at me. Even in the dark, I could see the blue in his intense gaze. He stepped into my space, crowding me. This time, instead of taking my hand, he cupped my cheeks. Gently. Softly. All the warm and fuzzy adjectives I wasn’t used to when it came to… anyone. “Not all of this is fake.”
I felt like squirming, because what he said was true. I didn’t like the feeling. It scared the shit out of me.
I might be able to protect myself from Dax. From everyone. But what about my… gasp, heart?