These thoughts plagued my mind, and before I knew it, he was unzipping my jeans and burying his face where I never want anyone to be. He felt me freak out and begged me to tell him what was wrong. But I couldn’t. I’m not ready to tell him. I’m not ready to relive the worst night of my life.
But then I did something stupid. I threw him out. I threw him out with no explanation why I flipped out. And like the true gentleman that he is, he left.
His kind response made me feel even worse and I called the only person that could make it go away.
Mary.
She was out at Cherry Pop, so I caught a cab and met her there. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, I was secretly hoping I would bump into Dixon again. However, my horrible night went from bad to fucking worse.
The club was huge, and it didn’t help that half of Manhattan was there. We didn’t organize a place to meet, so I went upstairs in hopes I would find her there, but instead I found Dixon basically getting a lap dance from a blonde barfly, and he didn’t seem to mind.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, and I ended up running down the stairs and directly into Tim.
He was the last person I wanted to see, so I couldn’t help but give him a piece of my mind once and for all. I was handling my own just fine, but then out of nowhere, Dixon came throwing down like the fucking Terminator. Memories of the eager, handsy blonde plagued my mind, and I was mad that he was here, saving the day once again, because he clearly wasn’t thinking about me five minutes before.
Then before I knew it, Dixon’s fragrance and chivalry was screwing with me and I was being whisked away in the rain.
In the car, Dixon did it to me once again, and I lost all sense of reason and told him things I never intended to say. When he asked me if I wanted to be dropped off anywhere, I couldn’t say David’s place, for obvious reasons. And Mary was probably drunk and on the prowl, as she had finally stopped hating men.
So it made sense to go to his place and call her, instead of turning up on her doorstep unannounced, and honestly, I wanted to spend more time with him and ask why he didn’t contact me all week. I know I have no right to be mad, but we were moments away from kissing Monday night, and then I got the cold shoulder all week.
I don’t get it. I don’t get him. And I don’t get my reaction toward him, especially when I’m supposedly dating David.
I need to stay away, but I can’t.
“Here you go,” Dixon says, snapping me out my thoughts as he passes me a burgundy towel and his phone.
“Thanks.” I unclasp my messy bun and towel off my hair, paying attention to the soaked ends.
“Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Just water, please,” I reply, as my tipsy body needs some H2O.
“Sure thing.” He disappears once again.
I’m not sure if it’s my imagination or not, but Dixon appears nervous, but I disregard it and dial Mary. As expected, she doesn’t answer.
I could call Sebastian, but I don’t want to disturb him and my mom at 2 a.m.
Dixon returns moments later with a goblet of water and a bag of peas.
“Did you get a hold of her?” he asks, and I notice he’s changed into a navy V-neck tee.
I shake my head. “No. She’s not answering. I’ll try again.”
After ten fruitless phone calls and an abundance of wasted text messages, I give up.
“I’ll call a cab,” I say with a sigh, and in that precise moment, a thunderclap sounds so loudly, I yelp in terror, dropping my bag of peas to the floor. “I hate storms,” I explain, my hand over my racing heart.
“Well, you can’t go back out there then,” Dixon says, picking up the peas and placing them against my injured hand.
“So, what do you suggest?” I ask, lifting my eyes to meet his, touched by his kindness to tend to my wounds.
“Well…you could stay here,” he casually suggests with a shrug, applying firmer pressure to my hand.
“Here?” I gasp, my heart beginning to race once again.
“Sure. I’ll sleep on the sofa. No biggie.”
“No, I can’t do that,” I quickly counter, because that would be wrong.
“What? Stay here?” he asks, his eyebrows knitting together as he releases my hand.
Yes, I so should not be staying here. But it’s getting late, and I’m running out of options.
I’ve come to a crossroad and I’ve decided I want Dixon in my life, and although I’m seeing David, that doesn’t mean I can’t be Dixon’s friend. This is all part of moving on with my life.
So with that affirmation in mind, I clarify, “I can’t let you sleep on the sofa,” as I would feel awful kicking him out of his bed.
“I don’t mind,” he says with a smirk, crossing his arms across his broad chest.
“Well, I do,” I stubbornly argue. “I’ll take the couch.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not sleeping on the sofa.”
I’m suddenly struck with a very bold idea. “We’re both adults. I mean, we could both sleep in your bed. If you don’t mind,” I add, not wanting to seem presumptuous.
A smirk tugs at Dixon’s lips. “As long as you don’t snore, then sure, I don’t mind sharing my bed with you.”
I laugh, happy he’s making jokes. “Not that I’m aware of,” I confess.
Dixon nods, and as he slowly scans down my body, my cheeks flush a bright red.
“Would you like a change of clothes and a shower?” he asks after clearing his throat.
Picking at my soaked top, I nod. “Yes, please. Sorry for imposing.”
Dixon shakes his head, his damp hair flicking up in deliciously rebellious peaks. “You’re no imposition at all.”
As Dixon makes his way down the hallway, I realize that I want to ask who the handsy blonde was. But what right do I have? He can see whoever he wants. I mean, we’re just friends, right?
20
First Time
DIXON
This is a bad idea on all accounts, yet I can’t look away when Madison switches off the bathroom light and enters my room. My Einstein T-shirt looks like a dress on her, and the pajama bottoms are dragging along the floor, even though she’s rolled them up a number of times. She subconsciously tugs at the loose collar, but it slides off her shoulder and she gives up with a huff.
“Thanks for lending me your clothes,” she says with a small smile.
“No problem.”
There’s no way I’m having her in my bed in only her underwear, as there will be no hope of me controlling myself.
Madison pads over to the bed and gently pulls back the black comforter and slips underneath. I’m resting against the headboard, trying my best to appear impassive about her being in my bed as I flip through my iPad, looking at God-knows-what.
She lets out a contented sigh as she settles low, the blankets resting under her chin. She looks way too tempting, snugly wrapped up in my bed, and she also looks like she belongs.
Looking down at her, I realize that my stupid rule is now utterly obsolete because I love having her here in my home, but more so, in my bed.
Clearing my throat, I switch off my device and turn off the light, shrouding my bedroom in almost complete darkness.
As I slip under the covers, my body temperature spikes, as I don’t usually wear anything to bed. But seeing as that was highly inappropriate, I’ve thrown on a pair of sweats and a tee. Staying clothed is going to be a miracle, however, as my already heated body doesn’t need any extra warmth.