Chapter 26
DEXTER
In the dim glow of the city, I drop onto the couch, heart still pounding. I’m not ready to crawl back into bed. That fucking nightgown. I’m useless against it.
The shower helps. Cool water runs over me while I stand there longer than necessary, eyes closed, waiting for the noise in my chest to settle.
The same sweatpants go back on. I drag a towel through my hair as I move through the apartment.
The balcony doors are still open from earlier, from needing air. I step over to close them.
The memory crashes in, whether I want it to or not.
It was a damn full moon, that Thursday night. Years back.
Two minutes past midnight.
I’d just gotten home from a late meeting, still in my black three-piece suit. It was a surprisingly mild night, and when I stormed out onto the narrow walk-out balcony for our “accidental meeting,” Holly was already waiting for me on her side.
She was standing on a stool, barefoot, in that long white night gown, reaching up to yank dead leaves from a plant hanging above her. When she noticed me, she gave a quick wave, smiled, and got onto her tiptoes to reach for another brown leaf.
Before I could warn her to get the fuck back down, the stool tipped over, sending her sideways toward the railing.
“Aaaaah!” She shrieked.
I didn’t think. I jumped the railings between us, from my balcony to hers.
There was nothing below me but several stories of nothing and concrete.
I caught her mid-fall, slammed her against my chest and held her with everything I had.
The impact knocked the breath out of both of us.
She was shaking. So was I. With adrenaline roaring through my body, I turned her in my death grip to face me, ready to give her hell for being stupid.
But in that exact moment, I forgot how to speak.
Soft breath touched my neck as her hands clung to me and her eyes connected with mine—deep loving eyes that made my heart jolt.
Hazel. So fucking hazel, so fucking beautiful.
Her shocked expression slowly morphed into relief.
There was so much intensity, depth, and trust in her gaze that my head started spinning.
My heart thundered inside my chest, so hard it hurt.
I wasn’t sure if it was from the adrenaline rush, or from my anger at her recklessness, or because it was the first time I noticed that Holly had breasts.
Actual, gorgeous, full breasts. I shouldn’t have noticed—but I noticed everything.
The slope of them. The size. Her perfect nipples, puckered and pressing against the goddamn thin fabric.
I stood there, with my mind shut off, held her tighter than I should have, and forgot every damn reason why Holly could never be mine.
Her skin felt so soft and warm under my hands.
Her chest heaved against mine, and the scent of cherry shampoo filled my lungs.
Holly’s eyes were consuming me, and her curves did the rest.
The sight would haunt me for days.
Her eyes dropped to my lips. And in response, mine fell to hers.
If her wedding ring hadn’t reflected the moonlight, I might have done something stupid. Instead, I forced myself back to my senses. I couldn’t let my mind wander into dangerous territory—ever.
Holly was Holly. A playful vivid whirlwind in need of a friend she could depend on.
Now more than ever. If I wanted to keep what we had, that was the line I couldn’t cross.
I had to blend her out as a romantic prospect.
Sure, I’d caught a glance here or there over the years, but I never let myself read into it.
I needed to be the guy she could count on for as long as she lives.
Luckily, and let me fucking repeat that, luckily, committed relationships weren’t something I chased back then.
My father needed me more and more, and a lot of my time went into giving him what I could, while I still could.
That didn’t leave much room for candlelit dinners and diamond rings.
Losing my mom early drove the lesson home: The damn clock is always running and you don’t fuck around with the hours you’ve got left.
One day, all you’re going to have is memories.
My time was spent where it mattered. The rest could wait.
“Holly?! Where the hell are you?” A shout from her place jolted us apart.
She gave me panicked “gotta go” eyes and slipped out of my grip, vanishing through the French doors into her dark apartment.
I stayed there a second longer, staring after her.
Forget the way she looked at me. Forget what it did to me. Forget the fact that I hadn’t wanted to let her go.
Half-dazed, I’d just climbed back to my side when I heard her balcony door crack back open.
“What the fuck?” a male voice sounded out behind me.
I turned to face a mad bull dressed just in shorts storming toward me.
Only the railing kept him from getting in my face.
“Have I not made myself clear?” he huffed at me. “Do not speak to her!”
“Shut the fuck up.” I was at the edge in two steps and had him by the throat before I could blink, yanking him against me. Half his body was dangling over the railing, his feet barely touching the ground, while my balcony’s rail dug into my thighs.
“Wrong guy,” I growled through gritted teeth.
Panic flooded his eyes, and his fist started to punch wildly in the air, his arms waving, desperate, trying to decide between clawing at me or saving his own neck. My grip tightened.
“You want to keep pushing me?” I hissed, longing for that audible crack. “You want to lose half your fucking teeth?” I pulled him closer, his feet now off the ground. “Do you?”
I was out of my mind. Mad.
I was done dealing with that shit.
I was sick of witnessing Holly wilt in the arms of a man who didn’t deserve her, who didn’t realize how special she was. How unique. How beautiful. How vulnerable. How broken.
I squeezed harder, feeling the pulse under his sweaty skin, and bones that fucking begged to be cracked under my grip, his eyes reddening and bulging from their sockets. I brought my face closer to his. Rage and anger consumed me.
“Try me, motherfucker,” I snarled, voice deadly. “Try me and see what happens.”
For a second, I wished he would.
I prayed he would.
I wanted to do it, would do it. Release my grip, let him fall to his death, splattering the street with his worthless blood. Let the rain sweep the ugly dirt into the gutter where it belonged. Watch it disappear where no one would ever look.
His foul expression had me on the brink of insanity, but I had to control myself.
With a rough push, I let go of his neck. He crumpled to the floor, red-faced, humiliated, like a sack of potatoes. Disgusting coughs sputtered from his throat.
What a fucking weakling.
I straightened, tugged my sleeves into place, and stared down at him.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” I managed to grit out the words with relative calm.
“You’re going to walk your ass back inside and act like a man worth the breath in his lungs.
Remind her what a real man is, what he provides, what he makes possible.
Or get the hell out of the way. One more moment of disrespect, and I’ll be your worst fucking nightmare. ”
I smoothed my black tie over my black shirt.
“Understood?”
That was the end of them. Holly kicked him out that same night.
She stayed with me for a couple of days.
I still remember how quiet the apartment was when I came out of the shower. Just like now, my hair was damp, and my sweatpants hung low. Morning light spilled through the blinds, cutting soft stripes across the couch.
Holly was there in her robe, cross-legged, book open in her lap, hair tied up in a high ponytail.
She was reading, lips faintly parted, completely lost in the pages of an interior design book.
The robe had slipped a bit from one of her shoulders.
She looked… at home. It was the first time she’d ever stayed here, and she looked like she’d been here a hundred mornings, not just her first. She was going to be crashing here all week, after I told her I wasn’t taking chances on that asshole showing up again.
My couch, my guest room, it didn’t matter. She was staying where I could keep her safe.
I should have grabbed a shirt. Instead, I did something worse.
I reached for my phone and angled it toward her.
Holly on my couch, looking at peace, lost in her world.
Chikk.
The shutter was loud in the silence, and her head lifted at the sound. Her eyes found me: half-dressed, dripping hair, lens pointed straight at her. The second stretched. Surprisingly, she didn’t murder me, didn’t slam the book shut, didn’t scramble to cover herself.
Instead, Holly did something else.
She lifted a hand to her robe. She eased it off one shoulder, then the other. The fabric slipped down to her elbows, bunched there, baring her tits to me.
My pulse kicked hard.
Chikk.
Her mouth parted on a breath, eyes locked on me, holding still in a way I’d never seen from her, daring me to keep going, to keep pushing, to keep crossing the line between us.
Her chest rose and fell heavy with each breath, nipples tightening under the cool air, or under the lens.
Or maybe for me, because I was watching.
I moved closer and took another shot.
Chikk.
She sat taller and her eyes smiled at me, serene, nipples fully peaked. I’ll never fucking forget it. The trust in her eyes, the proud lift of her breasts, the way the low 7 a.m. sunlight hit her bare skin.
Chikk.
And just as suddenly, it was all gone.
The robe was back in place, her eyes lowered, the thick book still there in her hands as if nothing happened at all. I stared and stared, wondering if I imagined it, imagined her.