“Again, I can’t believe a professional football player would say that.”

He chuckles. “If anyone is an expert on the subject of winning and losing, it’s an athlete. Last year we lost out on the NFC championship based on one loss. On a fucked-up foul that the refs got wrong, made a bad call. That shit burned, Fi.” His expression stays calm, but his eyes fill with ire. “Even now, when I think about it I want to punch something. And you better believe those fuckers on the other team taunted us without shame. Didn’t matter that they won on a technicality. Scoreboard was all they needed.”

Slowly, he reaches out and cups my jaw. “Darlin’, that shit happens all the time. I know from personal, painful experience that winning doesn’t necessarily make a person the best. Sometimes, it just makes them lucky.”

“Well,” I say, still full of petulance and resentment, “that bitch will get even luckier if I leave.”

“Nope. Hell, one day she might become the most successful designer in New York—”

“Not helping.”

“But it will be based on nothing but her own insecurity. While you?” He leans in and gives me a soft, lingering kiss. “Have true talent and will be happily serviced by yours truly.”

I have to laugh at that. But it dies quickly, and I flop an arm over my hot forehead. “You don’t understand.”

“So educate me.”

“I’m a fuck-up.”

“Fi…”

“It’s true. Almost every plan I start—and believe me, I always have a plan—goes off the rails at some point.”

“You’re describing the majority of the population, Cherry.”

“Do your plans fail?”

Dex’s wide mouth goes tight as if he’s annoyed at me. But the look he gives me is tender. The bed creaks as he pulls me into his embrace, tucking me against his side. “I planned to stay away from you.” The rough tip of his thumb caresses my lower lip. “Best failed plan of my life.”

“Ethan.” His heart beats strong against the wide wall of his chest, and I give him a soft kiss there. Sighing, I rest my cheek on his shoulder. “It’s just…I’ve always dreamed big and have never been afraid to tell anyone and everyone about my big dreams. Except my dreams often change—here one day, alive and bright with all these possibilities, then dead and on to the next something new.”

I glance up at his solemn eyes. “Unfortunately my exuberance has made me into the Girl Who Cried Dreams. And my friends and family no longer believe me when I latch on to a new passion. I don’t blame them, but I’m tired of seeing people give me that tight, slightly patronizing, slightly irritated smile. I don’t want to be viewed as a quitter anymore.”

“Fuck what other people believe. Do you think you’re a quitter?”

“I told you. I never stick to anything.” My fingertip traces a longitude line on his collarbone. I love the way his skin pebbles under my touch. “I changed my major three times before I settled on art and design, and even then, my eye was always roving.”

Dex shifts a bit, his hip canting as my nail scrapes his tight nipple. His voice is gruff, a sure sign of him being turned on. But he runs his hand over my shoulder, stroking me. “Why did you keep changing?”

For a second, I simply play with his nipple, worrying it this way and that, because it turns me on too, the way he reacts, his breath growing heavier, his cock getting thick again. “I don’t know.”

In a blink, I’m on my back, my wrists held overhead in Dex’s massive hand. With a low grunt, he settles between my legs and hovers over me, the long strands of his hair tickling my cheeks. “Now ordinarily,” he says in a low, smooth voice, “I love your particular method of avoiding hard questions.”

“Oh, really?” I challenge, opening my legs wider so that his hard cock notches between the slick lips of my sex. A low hum of pleasure runs through me.

“Really.” He shifts his hip slightly, rubbing his hardness over my sensitive flesh just enough to tease. “Thing is, I want an answer before I fuck you.”

God. He’s a wall around me, unrelenting, hot. I want all that strength pounding into me. I think I whimper. I know I wiggle my hips, trying to seek him out. “Why is it so important to you?”

His eyes are dark now, seeing more than he should. “It’s important to you.” He rocks against me, sending little shivers of sweet lust rippling outward. “Answer the question, Cherry. Why…” He slides up, “…did you…” A down stroke. “…keep changing majors?”

I lick my dry lips. “They never felt right.”

“Mmm…” He moves again, the rounded crown of his meaty cock stretching my opening. Slowly, with a smooth glide, he sinks in.

And I lift my hips, my legs parting wider, as if this can somehow give him more room. He fills me so good, I can barely focus. But Dex’s eyes are on me, his lips hovering just over mine. “You wanted to be happy.”

“Uh-huh…” I can’t really concentrate, not when he’s gently easing in and out of my swollen flesh, his lips taking mine with soft, slow kisses.

He nuzzles me as he talks and fucks. “You seek joy in your life, don’t you, Cherry?”

I shudder, my fingers curling around his hand. He still has me pinned. “Yes.”

He smiles against my mouth. “You were never quitting. You were searching.”

Despite what he’s doing to me, my attention snares on his words. He pauses, his cock deep inside me, his brilliant eyes wide open. Searching for joy.

A laugh bubbles up within me, and I crane my neck to reach his mouth. I kiss him as deeply as I can while I’m still laughing. And he grins against my lips, our breath mingling.

“Fuck me, Ethan,” I tell him, not letting him go. “And give me some more of that joy.”

He nips my lower lip, his grin still wide. “Yes, ma’am.”

And he does. He does it so well, I’m limp and breathless when we finish. I should move, get cleaned up, offer him dinner, something. But I can only lie against him, draped over his solid body like a sweaty girl blanket, and just drift.

“Aren’t you scared?” I whisper after a time. “I flit from boyfriend to boyfriend too.”

I don’t know why I’m saying this. Maybe I want to test him. Maybe I just want to know he believes in me. All I know for sure is that trickles of ice-cold fear run down my spine at the thought of ever ending things with Dex.

Rolling me to his side, he peers down, those eyes of his searching my face. His teeth flash, framed by his pirate’s beard. “Nope. That was just another search.” He leans in, nips my ear. “The search is over, Cherry Pie.”

“Ugh. Do not refer to me as pie!” When he just chuckles darkly, I have to smile. “You’re kind of arrogant, you know that?”

“Mmm…” The calloused pad of his thumb strokes my nipple. “Think we covered that.” I shiver. He does it again, slowly. “Abuse my character all you like; you know I’m right.”

God, I love the way he touches me, love the dark, rumbly quality of his voice. I even love his unfailing confidence in all things Us.

My palm slides down his back to the hard swell of his ass. I really love his ass. It’s massive, rock hard. The ass of a titan. Laughing a little at that thought, I give it a squeeze, earning a deep grunt from him.

“Yeah,” I say with a small smile as I feel him up. “I think you just might be.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Fiona

We sleep wrapped up in each other, my smaller legs clinging to Dex’s like vines. Dead to the world until sunlight slants across the bed and shines in our eyes. Dex tries to shield us by turning on his side and tucking me into the crook of his shoulder, but it’s too late. I’m awake, and real life is upon us once more.

Grumbling about buying darker drapes, I crawl over him, earning a light slap on my butt as I go to get us some coffee.