Chapter 48
DEXTER
Isit up slowly.
Then I wait.
Just to be sure I heard it right, that it’s not my head playing tricks. Not the demon whispering again.
Knock-knock.
There it is, barely there.
I’m on my feet already, crossing the room and opening the door.
She’s standing there barefoot, wrapped in that fucking white nightgown. The same one I haven’t stopped thinking about since the first time I saw it.
“Are you asleep?” she asks.
“No.” I can’t help the chuckle.
“I mean… were you sleeping?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Neither coul—”
I don’t let her finish. I reach for her, pull her in, my mouth covering hers before she can get the words out.
Her nightgown slides off in seconds, but my brain drags it out, frame by frame.
Without a word, I scoop her into my arms and carry her to the bed, lowering her onto the sheets.
I know this isn’t her saying she’ll stay.
It’s her saying goodbye.
My mouth trails from her jaw to her throat, kissing her because I know I’ll never get the chance again.
I move slow. I press into her collarbone, the swell of her breast, the curve of her belly.
I linger there, the place where our children grow, my lips unmoving for a breath too long.
After that I go lower. Over her wrists. Her hips.
The length of her legs, and back up again, tracing her thighs, between her legs.
Her clit. I’m on my knees, and my mouth finds every part she needs me to find.
I leave no inch untouched. I worship her, taste her like I’m starving for her.
The sounds she makes are exquisite. She moans, head falling back, fingers tangled in my hair. I hold her there, trembling, lost in her. I lavish her skin with kisses, aware some moments don’t come back. Holding on to this one is what’s keeping me alive.
She’s mine. Wherever she goes. Whatever happens.
She arches under me, whispering my name. She’s so goddamn beautiful, and somehow more now that she’s carrying my babies.
When she comes all over my face, it’s with my name on her lips.
I unbuckle my jeans. “I want you to remember this night,” I rumble, unzipping, pushing them down, holding her with my gaze, “…every time you breathe.”
She meets my mouth with trembling lips. She’s nervous. Almost as nervous as she was on our first night. She doesn’t have to be. With my lips on hers, I guide her back against the pillows and follow her down, settle over her, cradling her body with my arms.
Her legs part for me, and I settle between them.
“This is where we stop pretending,” I whisper. “Tell me what I want to hear, baby.”
If this girl isn’t in love with me, not even a little, despite everything I did wrong, then fine. I’ll live with it. Then maybe I deserve to lose her.
But she is. I swear I can feel it.
I lay my head against hers, needing those three words like air. “Don’t make me fucking beg. Just tell me.”
“Fuck me, Dexter,” she says softly, “Please fuck me.”
It takes me a moment.
A low grumble leaves my chest. “Close enough.”
I don’t hesitate.
I push inside her, slow.
Our skin sizzles when it touches, and I slide deeper, making her feel every inch. Heat wraps around me. Electricity shoots through every nerve in my body. My body buzzes, and every nerve is on fire.
This is heaven.
I hold still for a moment, deep inside her, just to feel us. The way we breathe, the way we fit. So fucking perfect.
And then I move.
Her body rises to meet every slow thrust, every stroke.
She pulls at me, fingers digging into my arms, then tugging at my hair, lips against mine.
I follow the pull, and turn it, press in closer, my mouth on hers, slowly forcing it to open until she gives so my tongue can push inside.
Her breath stutters between us, and I take my time stealing every bit of it.
Hard, deep, until she’s clutching me to her, refusing even an inch of distance between us.
I kiss her through every tremble, every moan, letting my tongue sweep across hers again and again.
The sounds she makes are low and breathless.
I fuck her slowly, taking my time, letting it build.
There’s time, and I use it, all of it. I need her orgasm to gather at a slow, painful speed, and climb in a breathless ache. Anything else would feel wrong. We’re both not rushing a single second. She wraps herself around my cock, curling around me, and I thrust deeper.
“Dexter?” Her voice is a whisper.
I look down, continuing to fuck her at the same measured pace. “Yeah, baby?”
She starts to speak, but nothing comes out.
I don’t ask again. I just hold her tighter. Push deeper. Fuck her harder. The room is filled with the sounds of us, the quiet gasps, heavy breathing, the rhythm of skin against skin, the creak of the bed frame. This is all there is.
Everything else falls away.
Her eyes flutter and threaten to close, but I shake my head. “Keep your eyes on me, baby. Right here. With me. Forever.”
I take her hands, interlock them with mine, and pin them gently above her head. I keep fucking her, and my eyes, they’re on hers. Those beautiful, wild, maddening hazel eyes that’ll make me choose wrong and never regret it.
When her release pulls through her in waves, it’s with everything in her face.
Warmth. Something close to love. Hope. So much hope. Fear.
And I feel it all. I feel it everywhere, burning through me, inch by inch.
I need this to last. I push back inside her slow, dragging it out, memorizing the heat, the way her legs tremble around me.
Those gorgeous shining hazel eyes. She doesn’t need to say she belongs to me.
I can feel everything in the way she holds me.
The lock of her legs around my hips, the tremor in her thighs, the way her body clenches my cock and pulls me deeper. She doesn’t have to say a word.
I kiss her harder than I should, lick the salt of her skin more intimately than I should, press my face into her neck to breathe her in more possessively than I should.
Her breath stumbles when I push deeper. I brace my hands at her hips, my shoulders burning, my whole body shaking with the effort to slow down so I can feel every pull, every flutter around my body.
Every squeeze has me grinding my teeth, fighting for breath, fighting for control I’m losing fast. My chest is burning, my throat raw from holding back.
I don’t want release yet. I want to keep this, keep us together.
My hips thrust, careful, slow, and she clenches again, harder, pulsing down my length.
I could let it take me fast, let it send me over the edge, but I don’t. I fight it. I slow down even more, forcing myself to control the rhythm, even when my body is screaming to give in. I don’t want it to end. Not yet. Not when it feels like she’s taking my soul with her shiny eyes.
The pressure builds so sharp it almost hurts. My chest burns, every thrust becomes a plea for more time, for one more second inside her. I murmur against her lips, telling her I’m not done, that I want to keep loving her, keep giving her every piece of me until time runs out.
My chest aches with it, the need to release, the need to stay.
I want to give her everything. I want her to feel me, to remember me, to know she owns me.
“Babe.”
One word. That’s all it takes.
She whispers the one word just like that, and I can’t stop it.
I break.
When I finally let go, it’s quiet. Deep. Slow and full and wrecking, with a whimper—a fucking whimper, low, guttered, disarmed—torn out of my chest, catching in my throat and stuttering against her cheek.
I spill into my girl and kiss her mouth, her jaw, her throat, and keep fucking her through the release as the aftershocks tear through me, drawing out every last moment. Because this is the only way I know how to hold her.
I keep myself buried in her, chest pressed to hers, breathing against her skin, resting my forehead against hers.
I stay there until the ache forces me down, until my body gives out and I drop against her.
She gasps when my weight settles fully on her, but she doesn’t push me away.
Her legs only tighten around me, holding me closer.
I take my time cleaning her up before leaning back and holding still while she runs the cloth over me. The moment she’s done, I pull her across my chest and keep her there, my arms wrapped tight around her. Her head rests against my heart. We don’t talk. Maybe we can’t. I know I can’t.
Her fingers trace along my chest in soft, aimless lines.
We lie there, quiet in the dark, skin cooling, my heart still too loud.
“I’m going to miss you,” she whispers, and tucks her head under my chin.
With the last bit of strength I have left, I bring her closer, press my lips to her forehead.
The words burn in my chest. I know, baby.
She curls up into my side, nudges in, breathing even and warm.
I’m exhausted, but I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to let go. Sleep tugs at me, and I can feel my eyelids drooping. The exhaustion from past days is catching up, and I struggle to stay awake. In an unstoppable force, my desire not to let the night end is overtaken by my need to rest.
I fall asleep with Holly in my arms.
And the words I didn’t say often enough echo in my head.
I love you.
I love you.
I love… y…