16. Nate
Chapter 16
I knock on Dex’s door, and the minute she answers, I wave the airline tickets in front of her. “We’re all booked. We leave on Thursday.”
Dex grins and snatches the tickets from my hand. She scans them, her eyes glistening with excitement. “Oh, this is so cool. My first trip to New York, and in first class, too! It’s gonna be awesome. We’ll have time for sightseeing, right?”
I rub my chin like a pantomime villain. “Hmm, wonder if it’s too late to get a refund on your ticket.”
She gives me a playful punch. “You wouldn’t.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Don’t bet on it, Titch.”
“Well, if all you came over for was to tease me, I’ve got better things to do.” She spins on her heel.
I follow her inside and snag her around the waist, pulling her against me. “Not so fast, little Dex.” I kiss her neck and cup both her breasts. She arches into me, groaning when I scrape a fingernail over her nipple.
“You don’t play fair.”
“Correct. Now, get your sneakers on.”
She twists to face me. “Where are we going?”
I tap my nose and repeat, “Get your sneakers on. It’s Saturday, and we’re spending the day together. You’re seeing your mom tomorrow, and I won’t have a spare minute before Thursday, so stop defying me, otherwise I’ll put you over my knee and make sure you can’t sit down for a week.”
She pouts and flounces off, leaving me smiling at her retreating back. She is fucking adorable. I’m definitely keeping her, at least for now. Is my record three or four dates? I’m not known for longevity in my relationships—if they can even be called that—but Dexter Nolan has piqued my interest. These past three weeks have been a revelation.
She finishes tying her shoelaces. “Do I need anything else?”
“Yep, a hat. And sunscreen.”
She dons a baseball cap that has I might be small, but I’m ballsy stitched on the front, and slots a tube of sunscreen in the front pocket of her shorts.
“Okay, ready.”
I flick the peak. “Apt.”
She grins. “I know, right?”
The traffic is hideous, and it takes me an hour to reach Santa Monica pier. During the entire journey, Dex chatters excitedly about everything she wants to see in New York. Despite my dread about the upcoming visit, I have to admit her enthusiasm is infectious. I instinctively know the trip back east won’t be nearly as bad with her by my side.
I park as close to the pier as I can, then after pulling on my own baseball cap, I grab a pair of shades and take Dex’s hand. Five minutes later, I stop outside the bicycle rental shop.
“Excellent,” she says with a wide grin. “I want to do this in New York, around Central Park, although I haven’t ridden a bike since I was a kid.”
“Then, this’ll be good practice for you,” I reply.
“Where are we going?” she asks once I’ve paid the rental and we’ve both been sized up for bikes.
“The Strand. We’ll cycle down to Redondo Beach, stop for some lunch, then cycle back.”
Her brow crinkles. “That’s pretty far.”
I shrug. “Forty miles or so, give or take. It’s flat, though, so you’ll be fine.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but as we set off down the path, with the beach communities on our left, and the sun twinkling on the surface of the Pacific Ocean on our right, she seems to forget her worries about the distance.
I point out a few sights along the way, and we stop for a few minutes at Huntington Beach to watch the surfers and drink some water.
“Can you surf?” Dex asks.
I nod. “I learned when I first moved out here. For Californians, it’s kind of a religion. I’m nowhere near as good as the locals who started surfing as soon as they could walk, but I can hold my own. I’ll teach you if you like?”
She shakes her head. “No way. I don’t like open water. I like to be able to touch the bottom.”
I toss my empty water bottle in the recycling trash can. “Why don’t you like open water?”
Her gaze shutters, and she looks out to sea. A gust of wind blows her hair across her face, momentarily hiding her from view. She tucks it behind her ear. “When I was nine, I almost drowned.”
I step closer to her and rest my hand on the small of her back. “What happened?”
She lets out a deep sigh. “I followed my sister and her friends to a lake not far from our house. Mom had strictly forbidden me to go swimming there, saying I was too young. Obviously, I ignored her.” She glances up with a wry grin. “I wasn’t the best-behaved child.”
“Shocker,” I say.
She laughs, the darkness which had momentarily clouded her features receding.
“Anyhow, I spotted Elva and her friends splashing about and having fun, so I jumped in and started swimming toward them. My legs got caught up in some reeds. Elva saved my life. It’s one of the reasons we’re so close. I love her to bits.” She shakes her head. “I don’t like to think about it very much. So, yeah, no open water for me.”
Despite the distressing story, envy curls deep within me. I used to have that kind of relationship with my brothers, and if I let them in, I could have it again, but I can’t take the risk. By staying away, I limit the chances of dropping my guard and spilling what I know. That’s the worst thing I could do. To destroy my brothers so heartlessly… no. Better for them to think I’m a brooding, miserable asshole than to risk telling them the truth.
“Hey.” Dex touches my arm, jerking me from my thoughts. “You disappeared on me.”
I curl my hands around the back of her neck and bend to kiss her, only briefly, but it has the desired effect of halting further questioning on her part.
“Shall we go?” I ask.
She smiles. “Sounds good.”
A couple of hours after leaving Santa Monica, we arrive at Redondo Beach. The path continues a little farther down to Torrance Beach, but Redondo, in my opinion, has more going on.
We secure the bikes and wander around. Knowing Dex as I now do, I suggest hot dogs and ice cream for lunch rather than a formal restaurant, which, if her beaming smile is anything to go by, scores a plus point for me.
After an hour or so, we return to our bikes and head back to the path. It’s much hotter on the return journey to Santa Monica, and after we’ve been cycling for ten miles or so, Dex slows down. By the time we reach Marina Del Rey and turn off the path to skirt the marina, she calls a time out.
She kicks out the bike stand and stretches her legs.
“My knees are stiff, and my cooter is killing me from that saddle.”
Both eyebrows crawl up my forehead. “Cooter?”
“Yeah, you know.” She points to her pussy. “Cooter.”
I throw back my head and laugh. “You’re one crazy woman.”
“You can laugh, but if I’m in pain down there, you won’t be able to visit, will you?”
“I’ll lick it all better.” Just for fun, I take a step toward her.
She throws her hands out in front. “Don’t even think about it.”
I laugh again. “Okay, I’ll wait until we get home. A hot bath, lots of tongue action, and you’ll be good as new.”
“You’re so bad.”
I catch her around the waist and steal a kiss. “Yeah, so you keep saying. Still here, though, aren’t you, Titch?”
“Cocky bastard,” she mutters, adding, “Anyway, if my cooter is sore, your cock and balls must be, too, surely?”
“All in full working order.” I flash a grin. “When I first came to LA, I took up cycling as a way of getting my cardio in. Better than running on a treadmill in a gym, and if you get up into the mountains, you burn an insane number of calories. Anyway, the first couple times I went, I pushed myself pretty hard, cycling for four, five hours at a time. On the third time I went out, after an hour or so, I noticed I couldn’t feel my balls. I’m telling you; I shit myself.”
She leans forward, interested in the story. “What happened?”
“I quit the ride and walked the damn bike home. Then I got on the internet. Turns out it’s pretty common, and I fixed it by changing the seat on my bike. It also helps if you shift your position regularly and occasionally stand up to cycle, which is what I did today, because these rental bikes don’t have the best seats.”
“Well, if we do this again, I want a cooter-safe seat.”
This woman. I can’t get enough. I form a serious expression and nod. “Noted. I’ll make sure I call ahead and ask for one specifically. I’m sure they have stock out back.”
She shoves me in the chest. “Stop teasing me.”
I grab her wrist, yanking her up close against me. We’re both sweaty from the bike ride, but I don’t care, and from the way she presses herself against me, neither does she.
“But it’s so much fun, Titch.” I capture her mouth, licking along her bottom lip before sliding my tongue inside. Kissing Dex could become my new hobby. At least the hobby I undertake when I can’t fuck her. That’s my new favorite thing to do.
“Think you can make it back?” I ask, loving how disheveled she looks with her face flushed, and her hair mussed from the wind and my fingers.
She nods. “I might take your lead and stand up a bit.”
It takes another ninety minutes before we arrive back in Santa Monica. After dropping off the bikes, we stroll back to the car. As I drive away, heading for Dex’s place—because she has a bath, and I don’t—I curl my fingers around hers and lift her hand to my mouth.
“Next stop… Operation Cooter.”