Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
dexter
When a vertigo attack strikes, the last thing I want is to be in the company of others. It’s one of the reasons my cabin’s situated on the outskirts of town, so no one witnesses me at my worst.
My friends are aware. Patrick has witnessed a few. Afterward, it’s never discussed.
Me and my condition are two separate entities. I want to be Dex, not Dex with Ménière's. I refuse to let it define me, but when my body betrays me, it’s hard to accept it doesn’t.
This attack was rough, the nausea and whirling cloaking me in darkness.
Then, a light dawned. The vibrations of her feet on the floor, her calming touch, her coconut scent enveloping me dragged me out of the murkiness.
The relief was short-lived, and shame assaulted me. Having her witness me in that state left me feeling like half the man I was.
Distance is easiest. Not from friends, but strangers, keeping my circle of trusted people small.
I’m not celibate, but it’s been a while since I was comfortable enough to bring someone home.
On the odd occasion I did, it was strictly casual and for good reason.
What woman wants to undress their partner?
Or stand idly by, waiting for the unforeseeable?
The days following an attack are unpredictable.
The side effects could pass within hours or days.
Above all else, the risk of me going completely deaf isn’t impossible, a probability I’ve known since being diagnosed and still struggle to accept.
A pressure guaranteed to take its toll on the strongest of couples.
What I did accept long ago was it wasn’t worth the risk or heartache. Why bother settling down when there’s a chance I won’t be the same person who entered the relationship?
But then, I glance down. The walls I erected long ago tremble, their foundations tested as slender fingers rest on my bare chest, the ring on her finger glinting in the darkened room. Soft snores tickle my neck. Stolen moments like this make me question my future.
Florence Sadler frightens the life out of me. She makes me want to live. Properly live. She wears her fears unabashedly. Her vulnerability is beautiful, soul pure; heart open.
With that logic, I’m hideous.
A happy, sleepy noise reaches my ears. Fuck, I missed it. There’s always the chance my hearing won’t return to what it was before an attack, and the waiting is brutal. I love any sound that comes from her lips, but especially now.
She deserves better. She’s Patrick’s sister. My future is unknown.
It’s the same chant, only now, it holds a different tune. It lacks its usual determination, the kind I’ve used to keep her at arm’s length.
“I’m guessing you’re awake. You went from a big cuddly bear to a taxidermy possum.” Her voice scratches with sleep, stirring my dick to life. I grunt in response.
She snickers, unraveling herself from me. Sitting up, dress creased and eyes hazy, she stretches, thrusting her tits in my face, perky nipples poking through the thin cotton material. I’m hypnotized by the simplicity of it.
After a long yawn, her eyes dart around the room. “I can go if you want to rest.”
“No.” My response is instantaneous.
She tries to fight a smile and fails, giggling. No complaints here. That hint of happiness lights me up. After hours of grueling darkness, her laughter is a welcome beacon.
“On a scale of one to ten, how are you feeling?” she asks.
I take stock of my surroundings and body. Her voice is clearer, though still slightly muffled. The buzzing is now a low hum, and the room doesn’t spin when I sit up. I’m also hungry—a good sign. As far as attacks go, it wasn’t the worst I’ve experienced, just sudden. “Eight.”
“And this?” She presses her fingers to my cheekbone, the one I smashed into the doorjamb. She recoils when I flinch. “Sorry.”
“Forgot about that,” I grumble.
Flashbacks of her rubbing my back, dragging her fingers over my scalp, and every tender touch in between come racing toward me. Before she pulls away, I grip her hand, resting it against my jaw.
Questions swirl in those emerald orbs.
I suck in a breath, looking off to the side. “Thanks for sticking around. You didn’t have to. I hadn’t felt great most of the day and should’ve listened to my body.” It’s then I realize I have no clue how long I was out for. “Shit. What day is it?”
“It’s Wednesday night. I found you this morning. You slept most of the day.” Her fingers curl around my jaw, bringing my attention to where she kneels on the bed. “Do they happen often? The vertigo attacks?”
It’s unfair of me to expect her not to be curious; she just found her boss passed out on the bathroom floor. Her soft caresses help me ignore the indignity that comes with her follow-up questions.
I shake my head. “Once or twice a year. The dizziness and tinnitus come and go. Nothing too serious, though. The price you have to pay with the condition.”
“Do you…” She frowns, dropping her hand. “Sorry, I’m being nosy.”
Sighing, I snatch it back up, needing a connection. “You can ask me anything.”
She hesitates, gaging my mood. Considering she spent the day caring for me, the least I can do is answer her questions, even if they send my heart into turbulence. I brace.
“Is there anything I can do? A blog I found said it can take a few days to recover, depending on the severity of them. I read small lifestyle changes can help. Apparently, cutting back on caffeine helps. Maybe we switch your cup a day for decaf? Caffeine isn’t recommended for ADHD either.
What are the odds?” My eyebrows hike. She pauses, frowning. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“When did you research all this?”
Her lips twist. “Umm, while you were sleeping. Your Ménière's is unilateral, right?”
The bricks around my heart shake. “For now.”
She shakes away her bashfulness. “Anyway, all your meetings are rescheduled, and your out-of-office is on. If you’re hungry, I can go fix you something. You don’t have to leave this bed today.”
Leave? I’m not going anywhere.
Words of gratitude evade me. Instead, I thank her silently. Her pulse flutters as I raise our joined hands and press a kiss to the inside of her wrist, lingering for a second too long. That second is all it takes for my blood to charge at her tropical scent and velvet soft skin.
Just this once. In the confines of my darkened bedroom, the risks seem less grave.
“Dex,” she says on a sigh.
My lips move higher, pausing below her bent elbow.
All armor, weapons, and strongholds shatter.
I band an arm around her back, drawing her closer.
She gasps, hands landing on my shoulders, hovering over my lap.
I’m half-naked, and in this position, her short dress hitches around her waist, meaning the only barrier between us is our underwear.
Mine barely contain my erection, and hers do nothing to hide the heat radiating off her.
I’m fucking aware of everything, and she’s at the center of it all. Resisting Florence is becoming an impossible task, the gravitational pull too strong.
My lips continue their journey, trailing over the cotton hanging loose on her shoulder. I hook my finger in the collar, revealing more skin.
“Tell me to stop,” I murmur before licking a slow path over her delicate collarbone.
“Stop what?” Her voice drips with nervous energy and lust, driving me wild.
“From taking what I can’t have and following through with the filthy things I’m imagining doing to you.” My left hand wanders from her hip, up her rib cage until her breast sits perfectly between my thumb and forefinger. The barest of touches. “Things I wish I’d done that night.”
Her head lolls to the side as I skim my teeth over her neck. With her mouth level with my right ear, her consent is loud and clear. “Do them. Show me. Please, Dex.”
Feral urgency takes over. The evidence of my arousal sits heavy and thick between the apex of her thighs. I trace from the hollow of her neck to the small divot in her chin.
Testing, tasting, tempting.
Tiny pricks bite my skin as she grips my shoulders.
Then, we’re tilting, the bed softening the fall as my back hits the mattress.
As if I’d crawled through the desert for years without water or food, my mouth seeks hers hastily. It’s as addictive as the first time, if not better. A shared groan of satisfaction rumbles between us.
Kissing her is the rightest wrong.
Pleasure among spoils.
A dream you eventually wake from.
“God, Florence. What are you doing to me?” My hips jerk, thrusting up into her. I have no business knowing how tight her pussy is.
“I don’t know, but it feels good. So good.” She jumps when the head of my cock bumps her clit. “Dex, I want you. Please.”
Her desperate little pleas hurtle me toward the point of no return.
I’m not sure how we got here.
No, I do. My desperation for her stops me from caring. The need coursing through me trumps all common sense. After weeks of pretending, this is what it’s come to.
We are beyond safe borders.
And I am a man undone.
I sit up, smashing out fronts together. “Are you wet for me, Trouble? If I slipped my hand in your panties, what would I find?”
“Why don’t you find out—Oh.” She hiccups when I suck the sensitive skin below her ear. “Do that again.”
“You like that?” I repeat it.
“Mm-hmm.” She rolls her hips, rubbing along the underside of my cock. The friction sends jolts of electricity up my spine.
Pulling away briefly, she drags her dress off, sending it across the room.
No fucking bra.
I’m already diving forward, sucking a rosy peak into my mouth while I roll and pinch the other. She undulates on top, gripping the sides of my head to direct my attention to her other nipple.
“This is so wrong, but I can’t think straight, not with you grinding on me like the needy little thing you are,” I rasp against the curve of her breast while tightening my grip and driving her down harder. “Could you come like this?”
She nods frantically. “Shit, yes. I’m close already.”
I release her nipple, stiff and glistening, and settle against the pillows. “Then take what you need. Use me.”
She does, so fucking spectacularly. Her eyes roll back, movements wanton. She’s divine, hands cupping her breasts and raking through her hair, lost to the motions. I simply watch, completely enraptured and close to blowing in my briefs like a teenager at the show she’s putting on.
My blood hums, cock aching to fill her, but I can’t move, not as she reaches her crescendo. “That’s it, Florence. Make yourself come. Get that pussy nice and wet for me.”
Her movements stutter, mouth falling open on a silent cry. I drive my hips up, desperate to feel the pulses and flutters on my cock as she explodes.
It’s the single most extraordinary thing I’ve ever witnessed.
She collapses forward, hands landing on my chest. A shy smile paints her lips, one I’m desperate to taste.
But then, I go and ruin it.
I reach up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “I needed this. I needed a distraction.”
She freezes, the cause clear as fucking day.
And I hate myself for it.
My hold on her slackens as she scrambles off my lap. A canyon separates us.
“Florence…” I whisper, sitting upright.
With an arm covering her chest and a hand fisting the comforter, she shakes her head, gaze lowered.
“I don’t want to be a distraction, not again.
That’s all I am. To my friends. Family. Myself.
” When she looks up, her crumpled expression shatters me.
“I don’t want to be that to you. Once was enough. ”
Gripping the back of my neck, I mutter a curse. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“What was?”
I’m stumped. “I don’t know. I’m attracted to you, and you make me… I like how you make me feel.”
She smiles sadly. “Attraction isn’t the issue here. I like how I feel around you too, but it can’t be because you want to forget. It has to be because you want me. It’s fine if you don’t, I get it, and if you’d rather I quit—”
“No. Fuck, no.” The volume of my protest has me wincing, the headache from my attack not entirely gone. “The last thing you’re going to do is quit. This is on me.”
She releases an exasperated breath, shoulders slumping.
“Then what do we do? We promised to forget, which clearly isn’t working,” she says, gesturing to the rumpled sheets.
“I’m fine being your employee, your friend, but I can’t be the woman to warm your bed when you’re searching for an escape.
We need to accept it happened and move on, or this won’t work.
You’re not obligated to reciprocate my feelings.
I’ve learned to live with them for a while. ”
My heart stalls, mouth dropping open to speak, but what the fuck do I say?
She notes my surprise. “Here’s me thinking it was obvious…” The blush lingering on her cheeks intensifies. “Seriously, Dex, it’s just a silly crush. Whatever I feel for you will pass. Don’t worry.”
I’m a sick bastard, because all I can think is, I don’t want this to pass.
She rises from the bed and slips her dress over her head, leaving me tired and confused through no fault of hers.
“This isn’t about you. I need you to know that, Florence.” I reach for her, but she steps away. “If you weren’t Pat’s sister and…” My words trail off, the truth too raw and painful.
I’ve got nothing to offer.
The words are there, tip, tip, tipping over the edge. Then, my cowardice snatches them up. Instead, I ask, “Do you want to quit?” while pleading she doesn’t.
I’m torn down the middle. I can’t stay away. She can’t get too close.
“No.” Her response is absolute. “I’m not judging if you’re looking for something casual, but that’s not for me. And if I’m being honest, my heart might not survive another night of distractions. I’m a hopeless romantic—sue me.”
She’s halfway across the room when a thought hits me. “What about your list?”
Her nose wrinkles. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.
A silly list written by a na?ve fifteen-year-old.
Forget about it.” The distance between us grows as she inches toward the door.
“Thank you for letting me drive your truck, but it’s best we keep things professional.
I’ll ask one of my brothers to teach me. ”
I don’t get the chance to respond. My exhausted body twitches to run after her, but my brain tells me to give her space. I’ve got no business craving even an ounce of Florence’s attention. I’m a lucky son of a bitch she gave me a peek into a chamber of her heart to begin with.
Too wound up to sleep, I stare at the ceiling, reeling over the last twenty-four hours.
I’m already living my life by one vow. What’s two more?
One: protect Florence’s heart.
Two: whatever it takes, she’ll finish that list.