“Being Dax’s best friend is as much a blessing as a curse.” He winks and downs his scotch, then raises the glass as the bartender passes.

When I get back to the room, I find Dax on the couch, shoeless with his feet propped on the coffee table, tie loose and the top buttons on his shirt undone. There’s another panel this afternoon and a dinner we’re supposed to attend tonight. Dax surprised me last night with a very stunning dress, and a pair of heels I tried on while we were shopping but decided were far too extravagant to purchase. Apparently he felt I needed them anyway. But based on how tired he looks, I’m not sure Dax is going to be up for leaving this room anytime soon.

“Is it too early to start drinking?” His cufflinks clink on the coffee table, and he drapes his shirt over the arm of the couch.

I check the time. “It’s after eleven.”

He drops his head back on the couch. “I should wait until at least noon.”

It’s been an emotional morning; the outpouring of empathy over his loss is heartwarming but also painful and exhausting for him. “Don’t we have a bottle of champagne that we never got around to opening last night? If we have orange juice, I can make you a mimosa, which I believe is completely acceptable before noon.”

He holds out his hand. “Come here first.”

I cross the room, still wearing my heels. A few of the girls I used to study with are here and want to meet up for drinks. I wasn’t sure whether Dax would want time with his own friends or not. It seems he’s far more interested in me over everyone else—although I’d attribute that in part to all of the condolences, and how it makes the loss feel fresh again.

As soon as I’m within reach, he takes my hand and tugs me closer. His eyes roam over me, his fatigue shifting to heat. He sits up, one leg on either side of mine, and runs his hands down the outside of my thighs. “You know what I need more?”

I thread my fingers through his thick, sandy hair. He really is absolutely gorgeous. It’s no wonder his panel was 90 percent women.

It wouldn’t have been difficult to convince people we’re just friends this weekend since I don’t quite fit the model type I’m sure most people would picture him with. And while he hasn’t come out and said we’re together, the implication is there in the way he speaks to me, and how attentive he’s been despite the barrage of flirtatious women who constantly surround him.

He plays with the hem of my skirt. “Did you need to check out my panty situation?”

“Mmm. I think I do.” He pushes the fabric up my thighs.

I’m wearing a pencil skirt, but the material has some stretch, so it slides easily, bunching at my waist. I’m wearing black hose with a lacy pattern that goes all the way to the waistband and obstructs the view of what’s underneath.

He pulls at the hose. “Are these expensive?”

“Not terribly, no.” I mean, they’re not cheap, but I have a good twenty pairs at home.

“Do you have more of them here?”

“I have a pair of nude ones.”

“No pattern?”

I shake my head.

“Hmm. I’ll be careful, then.”

I’m not sure how to gauge his mood. He’s intense, which I don’t mind in the least. It’s been good to see him like this, in his element with his peers, engaged in something other than Emme. Not that his focus shouldn’t be on her, just that his concern could be smothering if he’s not careful. She’s a teenager; they need privacy just like adults.

He removes my shoes and then the hose before slipping my feet back into the heels one at a time. He trails his fingers lightly up the outside of my legs and breathes out a groan. “You didn’t buy these on your shopping trip with my sister, did you?”

“No. I made a special trip.” My panties are sheer with black lace accents, and also a thong, which Dax soon discovers when he cups my ass.

His gaze flips up to mine, teeth sinking into his full bottom lip. “Turn around for me, baby.”

I do as he asks and wait a few very long seconds before I peek over my shoulder. His expression makes my sometimes shaky body confidence soar. It’s not always easy to be a short, curvy, dark-haired woman living in a Barbie world, but Dax has a way of making me feel beautiful.

“Fuck, Kailyn.”

“You like them, then?”

I jump when his palms settle on my hips and his lips press against my right butt cheek, followed by his teeth when he bites down. “I love them.”

He slips his finger under the thin strip of fabric connecting the waistband. A wave of goose bumps flashes over my skin as he drags his knuckle along the divide.

“Can I tell you something that might make me sound like a complete dick?”

“If you want to risk it, go ahead.”

He chuckles and spins me around, resting his chin just below my navel. “When I came to your office to review the trust, I fantasized about shoving your skirt up just like this and fucking you on your desk.”

Heat blossoms low in my tummy. “And was that the time you were checking for panty lines?”

“One of them. If it helps, I felt bad for objectifying you, especially when it was clear you weren’t much of a fan.”

“I was always a fan, Dax, I just thought you were a jerk.”

“I can make up for that. I’ll start my penance right here.” He kisses a path along the edge of my panties from my hip to the apex of my thighs. Lifting his gaze, he parts his lips, tongue pressing against me through the fabric.

I suck in a breath and latch on to his hair. A moment later he slips one finger under the edge, barely brushing my clit. In a smooth surge he rises, mouth suddenly on mine as he shifts my panties to the side and slides two fingers into me. I grip his shoulders, disoriented as he spins me around, and find myself laid out on the couch.

“You know what else I need?” Dax kneels between my legs.

“To get me naked?”

“Definitely, but more than that I need to see you come. It really is my favorite thing in the whole world.”

“So no pressure or anything?” I laugh, but I’m actually nervous. Last night I was focused on the feel of him inside me when I came. I don’t think that’s his plan now.

He doesn’t answer, just drags my panties down my legs, pulls me to the edge of the couch, and drops his head. I roll my hips as his mouth moves against me, his deep groans and the sweet sting of his teeth pushing me closer to the edge.

I press my palm to my lips, a moan caught in my throat. Dax replaces his mouth with his fingers, thumb circling my clit while he strokes the spot inside that sets my whole body on fire.

“That’s it, right there. That’s the thing you do that drives me insane.” He rises up, hooking my leg under his arm, spreading me wider as he braces his palm on the back of the couch.

“What thing?” I ask. Fingers still at my lips, I bite one, whimpering with his next curl inside me.

“What you’re doing right now. When you cover your mouth or bite your knuckle. It’s just so fucking sexy, like you’re shocked you can feel this good and you’re trying to stay in control.”

“That’s because I am,” I whisper.

“Shocked or trying to stay in control?”

“Both.”

“Why shocked?”

The next finger flutter is hard and fast. I swivel my hips and turn my face into my shoulder, my orgasm almost within reach.

“Look at me, Kailyn. Why?”

“Because no one’s ever made me feel out of control except for you.”

He crushes his mouth to mine as I come, waves of pleasure making my body jerk and tremble. He gets as far as unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants when his phone rings. I cry out as he rubs the head of his erection over my sensitive clit.

The ringing doesn’t stop, though, so I glance at the lit-up screen. “It’s Emme.”

“Fuck.” Dax’s head drops to my chest and he fists my bunched skirt with a shaking hand. “Fuck. I have to answer.”

“I know. Get it before it goes to voicemail.” I scramble to right myself and grab the phone from the table, bringing it to his ear. He turns his head away and clears his throat into his shoulder before he speaks. “Hey, kiddo! How’s it going?” He sits back on his knees, and his eyes roll up as he tucks himself into his pants. “Oh yeah? You’re having a good time, then? You did what?” His eyebrows lift, and then he frowns as I push my skirt over my hips. “Oh, really? I’m glad to hear you wore a helmet. Yeah. She’s actually here with me right now. Of course you can talk to her.”

Dax holds out the phone, exhaling a deep breath as I take it from him. “Hey, Em, are you having fun this weekend?”

She tells me all about her zip-lining experience, and says they’re going to see a movie later and that some boy named Clark has already asked if she’ll hang out with him at the dance.

“How about you? Are you having fun?” Emme asks.

“It’s a pretty boring conference.” Dax rests his forehead on my knee and I run my fingers through his hair. “But at least I have Dax to keep me company.”

“Yeah. He’s fun sometimes. Okay, well, I should probably go, we’re going out for lunch soon. Marnie’s mom wants to talk to Dax for a minute. Will I see you soon?”

“Definitely, we’ll make a plan.”