Chapter 14
HOLLY
He presses the doorknob and pushes the door shut with his foot.
We find ourselves in a room that, for once, looks like a bedroom should, and not like a tornado went through it.
The bed is turned down with fresh sheets and (after an hour of cleaning and straightening, which I will probably never do again) everything is in its place.
The sun is low and comes in through the big windows and those gorgeous sheer panels I put in years ago.
He’s right, the light is better in here, and at this hour, it makes everything look a little more romantic than it probably is.
It’s my room, still familiar, but tonight it feels extra different. Almost unreal. Like I’ve stepped into someone else’s life for a moment.
My world is spinning, and Dexter lays me down, giving me a quick kiss before stepping back.
He reaches for the hem of his shirt, but I immediately put a hand out to stop him.
He stills. “You okay?”
I want to tell him to leave the shirt on, that we don’t need to get completely naked. Instead, what comes out is, “Hurry up. Or I’ll start charging rent.”
His brow lifts, amused. All at once, with zero hesitation, he pulls his shirt off in one clean move.
Whatever follow-up joke I had lined up dies instantly.
Oh, come on. He is photoshopped, I swear it.
The man is built like a god. All hard muscle, broad chest, and definition I somehow never noticed beneath his usual polished layers.
In case he goes full Ryan Gosling and pulls the Dirty Dancing lift, I’ll be off the ground before I can blink, no question.
And look at his nipples! They are unfairly perfect.
“If you’re planning the Ryan Gosling trick, at least warn me so I can stretch first.”
“What?”
“Oh my God,” I whisper, coming to my senses. “I mean… this is really happening.”
Dexter smirks. “Was there any doubt?”
I don’t answer. Because he’s already unbuckling his belt. I hear the sound of it hitting the floor, snap, and then he’s unzipping his jeans. The casualness with which he steps out of them makes it impossible to look away. Look at those long legs! Perfect and hairy.
Then the boxers come off.
And oh. Oh… no.
Maybe this was a bad idea. A mistake. A really big mistake.
There’s no missing the rest of him now, and yeah, of course he’s impressive. Of course. Confidence like that doesn’t come from nowhere.
I blink. “Boxers?”
He gives me a quick, unapologetic look. “You were expecting something else?”
“Honestly? Briefs. I figured you’d be more... structured.”
“The woman notices my underwear now?” he says, half laughing as he reaches for the sash of my robe.
His eyes land on the lingerie I chose—and stay there.
“Well, fuck, Holly.”
I start to say something back, something smart, something flirty. But then he pulls me closer, and it’s gone.
He slides his hands beneath the robe and pushes it off my shoulders. It falls in a whisper of fabric. My bra comes off in one smooth move, dropped somewhere behind me. And when his gaze drops to my chest, everything slows. His eyes track slowly, left to right.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
His voice is low. Rough. Serious in a way that melts everything in my body. The gold in his brown eyes reflects the light, brighter than usual, and the green flickers softly around it.
“I knew you were gorgeous under those oversized sweaters,” he growls. “But next time, give a man some warning.”
I flush, too caught in his eyes to even joke back.
He lifts me onto the bed and positions me in the center.
Before I catch up, he slides my thong down and tosses it aside before moving over me.
The mattress dips below his weight, and his body covers mine.
Every inch of him radiates strength and the kind of control that should set off every alarm. And it’s aimed straight at me.
We’re skin to skin, heat to heat, forehead to forehead, and I’m so intensely aware of every part of him that is touching me.
When he kisses me again, it’s all hunger. Fierce and focused. I clutch his strong forearms, fingers digging into muscle to hang on to the strength there, because my body is ready to float right off the bed.
His mouth breaks from mine, and I let out a soft, involuntary sound.
A protest. His stubble brushes my skin as his lips find my chin, and I catch a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth at my reaction.
In the next moment I feel it at my jaw. My throat.
My collar bone. Lower. The hollow beneath it, where my breath catches.
Lower still. Each kiss burning hotter than the last.
“Fuck,” he growls, voice low and full of danger, “how have we never done this before?”
“Well…” I couldn’t agree more. But I have no words.
Right now, everything feels intense, overwhelming. But right. And wrong. But in a right way. I don’t make sense anymore. The last shreds of anxiety dissolve, they’re gone, as if they never existed.
His right arm cages me in, and his left hand finds every inch of me he can reach, exploring me bit by bit.
I suck in a breath, both unsettled and impressed by how ready I am and how little effort this takes on his part to draw it out of me.
It’s been a million years since I felt a man’s palm on my body.
Even longer since my nipples reacted like this, snapping to attention at the lightest brush.
It feels… wonderful.
So does the press of his cock against my thigh, so committed, so annoyingly… insistent, and my body answers at once. I don’t fight it. I shift, and my hand slips between us, finding him. He’s rock-hard and still growing. My fingers curve around his length before I can talk myself out of it.
A muscle in his jaw jumps, and a low, approving sound vibrates in his chest.
His hand closes over mine. “Careful,” he murmurs, voice rough. “You do that, and this is over a lot faster than I planned. You don’t want that, do you?”
His gaze flicks down to meet mine.
“No…” I blurt out.
His nose drags lightly along my cheek, his hand still wrapped around mine. “We’ll get there,” he rumbles. “But not yet.”
He doesn’t pull away immediately. He holds me there, guiding my hand for three more slow, deliberate strokes. I let him. Without a word, he slides his fingers around my wrists, brings my arms above my head, and pins them against the pillow.
His eyes follow the movement. And darken. “Let’s do this right.”
His knee eases between my legs.
I bite my lip, pulse kicking. I know exactly what he’s about to do, and the second he starts moving lower, nerves flare.
“Wait,” I breathe, already flushed and breathless. “You don’t have to—”
He leans down, mouth dragging across my breasts. “I do.”
Just that.
“The things I will do to you,” he mutters, his lips brushing skin. “When I’m done, you’ll be begging for more.”
I want to laugh. Or say something smart. But all that comes out is a shaky exhale.
He kisses his way down, knowing I’ll give him whatever he wants.
His hands follow, gliding over my sides, my breasts, across my hips.
He’s absorbed in every detail, tracing over me as if nothing else exists.
I move into his touch before I realize I’m doing it, offering more skin for him to touch.
Of course he takes his time. Because he wants to, because he can.
This could be my imagination, but he treats my body as if it’s something he’s waited a long time to touch, precious, worth taking his time with.
By the time his mouth reaches my belly, I’m done pretending I’m among the living. And when he dips lower, I’ve already surrendered. There’s nothing left to decide. My legs part without a second thought.
His hands find me first. His mouth follows.
My breath stutters once, and heat spreads deep, pulling tight through my stomach. My whole body feels like it’s about to break open.
“Perfect,” he growls, his voice dropping in a way that wraps around my spine. “All of you. So fucking ready for me.”
“I wasn’t trying to…”
His brow lifts. “To, what?”
To what? Lose all composure on contact? Turn into a puddle with zero warning? Drench the bed so enthusiastically? “…react exactly like that,” I breathe.
“Hush.” His palms settle over my thighs. “Let me have this. I love it. Don’t apologize for wanting me.”
And then his mouth is on my clit.
The first flick of his tongue sends a jolt through me so startling I gasp. “Oh…”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice dark and pleased. “That’s what I want to hear.”
When he licks again, there’s nothing in the world that can stop my moan from erupting.
He moves his tongue slowly at first. Not teasing, not exactly.
His mouth hits that exact spot and alternates between licking and nibbling, causing me to cry out softly and jerk out of his reach before I can stop myself.
“Don’t move. Let me take care of you.”
I’m caught between wanting him to stop and needing him to keep going, breath coming shallow. The second he wraps his lips around that most sensitive part of me and sucks, my mind goes quiet. I blank.
Pleasure steals the strength from my limbs, opening wider, until my fingers are tangled in his hair and I’m holding on like it’s the only thing keeping me on earth. At this point, there’s no stopping the bliss.
Just when my mouth can’t stop releasing moan after moan and I’m about to fall apart, he stops. The loss is so abrupt it makes my hips shift, chasing him, desperate for more. I want to scream. I start to say his name, “Dex…”
But before I can say the rest, he drags his tongue over me again, slowly, deliberately, with the kind of pressure so perfect I swear I might cry.
“Feel it, babygirl,” he murmurs. “Feel me.”
Every nerve lights up. Everything tenses. Hot. Unbearably good.
He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t fumble. Repeats the exact same perfect move.
It’s like he’s always known this body, how to make it shake, how to make it beg.
And he has no intention of stopping. He doesn’t leave me the space to catch my breath, or my thoughts.
Everything in the way he touches me tells me he’s determined to prove this isn’t just one time (and this time, I know I’m not imagining that).
It overwhelms me in a way that makes my stomach tighten and my skin prickle.
His mouth, his hands... it’s all too much and still somehow not enough. I want him everywhere at once.
When the pleasure finally breaks loose, it breaks loose everywhere. My back arches.
“Dexter…”
His name spills out of me, more breath than word, as everything inside me snaps and releases all at once. I grip his arms like they’re the only thing holding me to the earth, tears pricking the edges of my vision from how much it all is.
Wo…ahh.
I’m caught in wave after wave of something I can’t contain.
And for a long, suspended moment, there’s nothing else. No air. No time. No sound but my heartbeat and the bliss of his mouth on me.
It’s immersive. It’s all-consuming. It’s the kind of pleasure I know I’ll never recover from. And when it finally ebbs, I know nothing else will ever compare.
He places a kiss on my clit.
I open my eyes, vision fuzzy from the stars, and I feel the dip of the mattress as Dexter makes his way back up my body. His hand trails along my hip, and my clit is still trembling from tiny aftershocks rippling through me. My thighs are still shaking. My pulse hasn’t caught up.
Whatever that was… it was ruinous.
I know I’ll crave his mouth on me for the rest of my life. And the worst part? That took, what, two minutes? Maybe less? Around thirty seconds?
His body crawls over mine. His weight on my body is intimidating, pressing me into the sheets, all heat and strength and predator—and yeah, he’s still hard. Very, very hard. (Which does not help my focus.)
I’m barely catching my breath when he shifts.
In the low light, he strokes himself at an easy pace, making the head swell and the veins throb.
A drop on the tip of his cock catches my eye, and he gathers it with his thumb, then brings it to my mouth.
Slowly, his thumb brushes across my lower lip, leaving a trace, and I flick my tongue over it to taste him.
His gaze never leaves mine.
He’s branding me with the look alone.
“Oh wow,” I whisper, blinking up at him.
He holds his thumb there, until I lean in. I lick it from his thumb.
He meets my gaze, expression burning. “This is the moment. Ours. It’s only us now.”