Chapter 25
HOLLY
My thighs are still shaking from being fucked all night.
After wobbling around the office to shake off the memory of Dexter’s.
.. thoroughness last night (yes, he delivered on the “every surface” thing, lifted the no-orgasm ban, and I now have to fix a crooked bookshelf…
no further comment), I grab my bag and head out.
I’m tender between my legs in the best possible way after having him inside me all night, thrusting into me until my nails left half-moons down his back (and across his ass) and my voice gave out. My hips might have to sue for damages.
Kenzie and I meet at Zaz’s Café, our go-to for a midday breather, two blocks from the office. She’s already at the window table, sipping her matcha.
“You look like you got hit by a truck,” she says as I slide into the seat.
“Just sore from… life.”
“Right. Life. Sure.”
We eat, we laugh, we catch up, and I tell her the big news.
Kenzie lets it sink in, digests, and nods. “Of course. I’ll miss you terribly, but I’ll hold down the fort here, keeping your clients happy while you sip Earl Grey and win over every Brit under five.”
We hug just long enough to earn a curious glance from our waiter, and order two more rounds of tea. I’m going to miss these lunches when I move. They help break up the workday, but most importantly, they always make me feel happy.
After work I head toward the station, dodging tourists and pigeons. My phone vibrates.
FaceTime: Shelby.
“You look properly shagged,” Shelby notes.
I sigh. “Well, things may be getting a little… off-script.”
“Off-script? Holly, the script was one shag, then a baby. You’re now on what, round three?”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “It escalated.”
“To what, four? Five?”
“Double digits.”
Shelby lets out a low whistle. “Right. Well, I love you, but honestly, how you’ve managed to survive this long without me by your side is a bloody miracle. Because this can only mean one thing.”
“Enlighten me.”
“You two are in love.”
I snort. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Really? You’ve known the bloke for decades, you’re now shagging him on repeat, and from where I’m sitting, you look ready to tattoo his name on your arse.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Oh? Then what is it like?”
“It’s a deal. An arrangement. We’re not in love.”
“Why the hell not?”
I stare at her, not smiling anymore. “Shelby, I’m not looking for love. I’m done with love. Dean cured me of that. If I learned one thing, it is that you simply don’t hand your heart over to a man. You know that!”
“Honestly, Holly, you can’t still believe all that.”
“Believe it? I lived it. I trusted a man once, gave him everything. And when I needed space, he tried to take the wheel. When I needed honesty, he gave me lies. When I needed love, he gave it to someone else. My broken heart and I will not belong to any man, anymore, as long as I live, and that’s my final decision. ”
Shelby doesn’t argue, just gives a slow nod. “Right. But Dexter is not Dean, is he?”
“I know. That’s why I’m doing this with him.
Because I trust him—as a friend. That’s all it’s ever going to be.
Dexter and I both know that the intimate side of our deal has an expiration date.
We’re both in the middle of major career decisions and we’re on two different paths.
He’s doing his thing. I’m doing mine. Anything more than friendship is just not possible. ”
She watches me closely. “Sounds a bit like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
“I’m not doing this with you,” I say, forcing a smile. “You can keep your relationship theories to yourself.”
The sigh she lets out is full of disappointment. “Fine. I’ll shut up. For now.”
Good. I’ve worked too hard to rebuild my life, too long letting go of Dean and everything he broke in me.
Getting here wasn’t graceful. It meant leaving Dean behind and, more importantly, forgiving myself for loving him the way I did, and for pushing past my own limits while trying to save something that was never meant to last.
Dexter helped me through that, yes, emotionally and financially, but that doesn’t mean I owe him my choices.
Dean is behind me now, and for once, I let myself come first.
I won’t talk myself out of what I need.
I’ve come way too far to get distracted now.
It’s close to midnight and I’m half-asleep, stumbling out of bed in my favorite white nightgown with a clear mission: Pee, then go back to dreaming. On the way, a random thought hits: Did I lock the front door?
I sigh. Because of course I didn’t.
Grumbling under my breath, I shuffle over and reach for the bolt... just as I hear Dexter’s door creak open across the hall.
Hand on the lock, I freeze.
Slowly, silently, I rise onto my tiptoes and press my face to the peephole.
He just stands there in the darkness, the low light from his own apartment outlining his tall, broad form in a six foot three silhouette, facing my door.
He doesn’t move. Not a bit, for one whole minute.
For two. Five full minutes tick by. My ankle gives a sharp twinge, but I don’t dare to move. I don’t breathe. I might pee myself.
What the hell is happening? Why is he just standing there?
He was going to one of his biker meetups earlier tonight, and though I heard him come back, we haven’t spoken.
Suddenly, he moves.
Straight for my door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
My heart bangs like a drum in my chest. I open the door (after a brief, dignity-preserving pause, because I refuse to let him know I was basically suction-cupped to the door).
“Dexter! Everything okay?” I try to sound out of breath, pretending I ran here.
He blinks at me, only wearing his pale-ivory sweatpants, naked chest. His hair isn’t just bedhead-messy, it’s sexy and adorable. He looks like he’s been lying in bed, tossing left and right.
There’s a long pause.
I clear my throat. “You wanna come in? Come in!”
“No. I need to tell you something first—tell you what’s been going on in my head. That okay?”
I see the raw emotion in his eyes and nod, already feeling myself tense. I knew something was bugging him. “Okay.”
I watch his eyes fall shut.
He runs a hand through his tousled hair and back down over his face, then across his bare chest and finally lets it fall to his sweatpants. They hang low at his hips, too low, putting that V front and center.
“You think I don’t feel it?” he says finally, voice measured. “Every damn minute of the day?”
His deep brown eyes open and hold mine, darker than before, stripped of any green or gold shine.
I’m too stunned to speak.
“This?” His hand gestures once between us.
“You. You’re under my skin. And it’s throwing me off.
Because every time I walk out that door, I know I’m a little closer to screwing this up.
And I don’t know how to stop it. Because I’m fucking scared of losing you.
” He gives me a sad smile. “I just can’t imagine you being gone.
But I know that you want to go, and you have to.
This is your dream, and you made plans, and I don’t want to be in your way. ”
Oh.
My shoulders drop. “I appreciate it. It’s hard for me too, Dexter.”
He nods. “I know.”
“We will stay in constant contact, I promise.” His expression doesn’t soften. “Dean made promises he never kept. I will not break my promise. That’s also why I cannot and will not bail on my sister.”
He stares at me and nods again. “I know.”
“Good.”
“I’ll support you no matter what,” he says. “And if that means I’m going to fly to the UK all the fucking time, so be it. I own two helicopters, but once the Swan account is mine, I’m buying the fastest celebratory private jet built for crossing fucking oceans.”
My heart kicks hard in my chest. “Well. Then you better win it.”
“I better.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He kisses my forehead. “Good night. Off you go.”
“Good night, Dexter.”