Chapter 18
LEIGH
Iwas lying in bed going over my schedule for tomorrow. We still had band auditions at two, then I needed to edit the engagement photos Trace and Delaney had approved, maybe dinner with Mom and Jasper if they were free. Then something tapped against my window.
I froze, my phone still in my hand.
Another tap. Deliberate. Intentional.
My heart jumped as I scrambled out of bed and crossed to the window. When I pulled back the curtain, Dex was standing on the lawn below, grinning up at me like an idiot. He made an exaggerated climbing motion, pointing at the trellis that ran up the side of the house.
I cracked open the window. “What are you doing?” I hissed, trying not to laugh.
“Sneaking you out.” He kept his voice low but I could hear the smile in it. “Come on, climb down.”
“I’m twenty-seven years old. I can use the front door.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He crossed his arms, still grinning. “Come on, Rapunzel. Live a little.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it.”
I did. God help me, I absolutely did.
“Fine. I’ll meet you at the front door. But I’m walking down the stairs like a normal person, spoilsport or not.”
“Spoilsport,” he confirmed, but he was already moving toward the porch.
I threw on jeans and a sweatshirt, grabbed my phone, and crept downstairs as quietly as I could. The house was dark and silent. Mom and Jasper had gone to bed an hour ago, but I still felt like a teenager sneaking out for the first time.
Dex was waiting at the front door when I opened it, still wearing that ridiculous grin. Before I could say anything, he grabbed my hand and pulled me out onto the lawn.
“Run,” he whispered, tugging me along.
“Why are we running?”
“Because we’re sneaking out. That’s what you do.”
“We’re adults!”
“Shh. You’re ruining the mystique.”
I couldn’t help it, I started laughing. We ran across the lawn like teenagers escaping curfew, our footsteps muffled by the grass, his hand warm and solid in mine. The night air was cool and sweet, and above us, stars scattered across the sky like diamonds on black velvet.
He led me deeper into the garden, past the rose bushes and the fountain, toward the far corner where old oak trees created a natural canopy.
And there, spread out on the grass beneath the branches, was a blanket.
Candles flickered in glass jars scattered around the edges, and there was a basket, a bottle of wine, two glasses.
I stopped, my breath catching. “Dex...”
“I know it’s late,” he said, suddenly less confident. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I wanted to do something... I don’t know. Romantic? Is this too much? It’s probably too much…”
I kissed him. Hard. Cutting off his rambling with my mouth on his, my hands fisting in his shirt.
He made a surprised sound that melted into a groan, his arms coming around me, pulling me flush against him. The kiss deepened, turned hungry. All thoughts of picnics and wine and conversation burned away in the heat between us.
“Blanket,” I gasped against his lips. “Now.”
“Yes. Definitely yes.”
We stumbled toward the blanket, still kissing, hands already tugging at clothes. He pulled my sweatshirt over my head, I yanked his t-shirt off. My jeans hit the grass, followed by his. By the time we collapsed onto the blanket, we were down to our underwear and desperate for each other.
“I had a whole plan,” he breathed, kissing down my neck. “Was going to wine and dine you first.”
“Later.” I arched into him. “We can do romance later.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. Now please…”
He didn’t make me beg. His hands slid up my sides, unclasping my bra, his mouth following the path his fingers had traced. I gasped when his lips closed around my nipple, my back arching off the blanket.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured against my skin. “So fucking beautiful.”
His hand slipped between my thighs, over the fabric of my underwear, and even that light touch made me moan. He was teasing me, working me up, and I was already so far gone.
“Off,” I managed, tugging at his boxers. “Everything off.”
We shed the last of our clothes in a tangle of limbs and breathless laughter. And then he was settling between my thighs, the weight of him perfect, the heat of his skin against mine making me dizzy with want.
“You sure?” he asked, even now checking, making sure. “Out here?”
“No one can see us.” I pulled him down for another kiss. “And I don’t care if they could. I need you.”
That was all the permission he needed. He reached between us, lining himself up, and then pushed inside in one smooth thrust that made both of us cry out.
“Shh,” he laughed breathlessly, his forehead pressed against mine. “We’re supposed to be sneaking.”
“Then stop making me want to scream.”
“Can’t. Sorry.” He started to move, slow and deep, and I bit my lip to keep from making noise. “You feel too good. I can’t help myself.”
We found a rhythm, unhurried but intense. Not the slow, emotional lovemaking from the apartment, but not the frantic need of our first times either. This was something else. Something playful and passionate, intimate and wild all at once.
The candles flickered around us, casting dancing shadows. Above, stars wheeled across the sky. The night air was cool on my heated skin, and every sensation felt heightened. His hands on my hips, his mouth on my shoulder, the stretch and drag as he moved inside me.
“Leigh,” he groaned, his rhythm faltering. “I’m close.”
“Me too.” I wrapped my legs around his waist, changing the angle, and suddenly I was right there on the edge. “Dex!”
I came with my hand pressed over my mouth to muffle the sound, my body clenching around him. He followed seconds later, burying his face in my neck, his body shuddering with release.
We lay tangled together afterward, breathing hard, the cool night air raising goosebumps on our sweat-slicked skin.
“That,” he said finally, “was not how I planned this evening.”
I laughed, the sound bubbling out of me. “No?”
“I was going to seduce you slowly. Feed you strawberries. Be all smooth and romantic.” He lifted his head to look at me, his hair adorably mussed. “Instead we had sex in your father’s garden before I even opened the wine.”
“Oh, are there strawberries,” I asked, leaning up on an elbow to peer at the basket on the edge of the blanket.
He grinned and pressed a kiss to my nose. “We should probably put some clothes on first before we scandalize the neighborhood.”
We found our underwear and clothes scattered around the blanket, getting dressed between kisses and laughter. Once we were decent, or at least decent enough, we settled onto the blanket properly, and Dex opened the wine.
“Ta-da,” he said, pouring us each a glass. “Romance. See? I had a plan.”
“It’s a very good plan.” I accepted the glass and curled into his side, looking up at the stars. “Even if we did do it backwards.”
“We do everything backwards.” His arm came around me, pulling me closer. “Why should tonight be different?”
We sipped our wine in comfortable silence, the candles casting warm light over everything. He’d packed cheese and crackers, strawberries, chocolate. We nibbled at the food, feeding each other, stealing kisses between bites.
“If you could go anywhere,” I said eventually, tracing patterns on his chest, “where would you go?”
“Right now? Or in general?”
“Either. Both.”
Dex was quiet for a moment, thinking. “I’ve never really traveled. Never left the east coast except for one trip to Miami when I was twelve.”
“You’ve never traveled?” I propped myself up to look at him. “Not even for vacation?”
“Where would I go? And with who?” He shrugged, but I could see the vulnerability beneath the casual gesture. “I’ve always been too busy with the garage, or helping the brothers with something, or... I don’t know. It never seemed like something I was allowed to do.”
“Allowed?”
“Wanted, then.” He pulled me back down against him. “But with you? I’d go anywhere. Everywhere.”
“Like where?”
“Italy,” he said immediately. “I want to see the Amalfi Coast. Drive those winding roads, eat fresh pasta, drink wine that costs more than my truck payment.”
I laughed. “That’s oddly specific.”
“My grandpa had a calendar in the garage when I was a kid. National Geographic photos of Italy. I used to stare at it and imagine what it would be like to just... go.” He pressed a kiss to my hair. “What about you?”
“Iceland,” I said without hesitation. “I want to photograph the Northern Lights. Stand under that green sky and just... witness it, you know?”
“Iceland and Italy.” He was quiet for a beat. “We could do both.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Why not?” His voice was soft but serious. “We could plan a trip. Not right away, but someday. When we’ve figured out the long-distance thing and we’re ready for the next step. We could go to Iceland in winter for the lights, Italy in summer for the coast.”
The casual way he said it made my chest ache. Like he really believed we’d have a someday. Like this wasn’t temporary.
“I’d like that,” I whispered.
“Me too.” He shifted, turning so he could see my face. “What else? If we’re daydreaming, let’s dream big.”
“Okay.” I thought about it, letting myself imagine a future that felt impossible and inevitable all at once. “I want to photograph a wedding in Scotland. Like a castle wedding with kilts and bagpipes and the whole dramatic thing.”
“So you want to work on vacation?”
“It wouldn’t feel like work. It would feel like an adventure.” I poked his chest. “Your turn. Dream big.”
“I want to learn to surf,” he said. “Somewhere tropical. Hawaii or Costa Rica or somewhere with warm water and big waves.”
“You want to surf?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I have hidden depths.”
“I’m not surprised. I’m delighted.” I kissed his jaw. “I can picture it. You all tan and beach-bummy, teaching me how to stand on a board.”
“You’d want to learn?”
“If you’re teaching? Absolutely.”
We kept going, trading dreams and fantasies. He wanted to see the Grand Canyon. I wanted to visit every bookshop in Paris. He wanted to eat street food in Thailand. I wanted to photograph the cherry blossoms in Japan.
“We could do it all,” he said eventually, his voice drowsy. “Take a year and just... travel. See everything.”
“A year?”
“Why not? You can photograph anywhere. I could take a sabbatical from the garage, hire a manager or something. We could just go.”
“That’s crazy.”
“So?” He turned his head to look at me, his eyes serious despite the smile on his lips. “Would you want to? If it was possible?”
I thought about it. Really thought about it. A year of just us, exploring the world, no obligations or responsibilities. Building memories instead of maintaining them.
“Yes,” I admitted. “I would want that.”
“Then let’s do it. Not now, but someday. When the timing’s right and we’ve figured everything else out. Let’s promise each other that.”
“Promise we’ll take a year to travel the world?” I raised an eyebrow. “That’s a big promise, Dex.”
“I know.” He laced his fingers through mine. “But I want big things with you, Leigh. I want everything.”
My throat tightened. “Me too.”
We lay there under the stars, talking until the candles started to gutter out and the wine bottle was empty. Making impossible plans, dreaming impossible dreams. And in that moment, under that vast sky with his arms around me, nothing felt impossible at all.