Under Locke Page 73

And I stood there just waiting. For what, I had no idea. Maybe to wake up from this dream.

But the beautiful dark-haired man in front of me wasn’t saying anything. His gaze was zeroed in on my face, jaw tight, shoulders pulled back. He must have realized I thought he was on drugs because he kept going. “That shit made my chest burn. I hated it. You know what that’s like for me? Standin’ there thinkin’ to myself that I don’t wanna share you with anybody?” His neck visibly strained. “I can’t ignore this shit between us anymore, and I’m not gonna. Not when it makes so much sense.”

Oh. Dear. God.

I wasn’t sure whether to have a panic attack or run around fist pumping. But still. That fear crept threw my bones, warning me, preparing me, making me wary. “Why does this make so much sense?” The question was hoarse.

“Nobody’s ever made me feel the way you do.”

Was that my throat burning? Oh hell, it was. No amount of swallowing made the sensation go away. “But...I’m like your little rabbit. Your pet.”

”Oh, you’re somethin’ of mine all right, Ris. But my pet? Huh uh,” he said with more conviction than any man should be capable of.

At least a little bit of fear flooded my system because I thought for a moment about walking out of the room to end the conversation.

"You go and I'm comin' after you, babe." Dex ate up those few feet to loom over me on the couch, his body longer and leaner than it'd seemed hours before as he hovered. "I'm not your daddy. I'm not gonna do the shit he did. You don't need to be scared of me."

At the mention of my dad, my spine stiffened. "I know you're not. I'm not scared of you either, okay?"

"Yeah, you are." He bent at the waist to place his hands on the back of the couch at my sides.

Heat exploded on the back of my neck. "I'm not," I insisted.

He lowered his head even more, cornering me like the bully he was. "You are, but I'm not your pa and you gotta remember that. I told you when you tried to quit that I keep what's mine, and I meant that."

Yeah, I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't do a single friggin' thing as his mouth came to within inches of mine. I should have moved, should have pushed him away, screamed, anything except just sit there. But the closer he got, the more of him and his lulling body heat, the less I wanted to do that. It was like being in a trance.

"I suck at pretendin', babe." He brushed his mouth over my cheekbone, making my spine tingle. "You suck at it, too."

I don't know what it said that the word ‘suck’ hit me right in the lower stomach.

And really, what is there really to say when Dex Locke brushes his lips against that spot between your jaw and ear?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Mine.

I keep what's mine.

Mine.

Mine.

Mine.

It was the first thing I thought of when I woke up the next morning alone on the couch.

He hadn't said anything else after he'd kissed my jaw and right off the corner of my mouth. Dex had just thrust out a hand to pull me off the couch, and led me toward the stairs. With a firm hand on my lower back, we walked out of the bar without speaking another word. Rode to his house in silence, and then ate dinner and watched television the same way.

It was only when he got up to go to bed that he leaned in to kiss the corner of my mouth, just a hair off from my lips that he said two sentences. "I know you’re confused, Ritz, but there’s no reason for you to be.” With that, he disappeared into his bedroom, leaving me dazed and on the verge of panting on the couch.

It was a friggin’ miracle I’d managed to fall asleep.

I definitely didn't need to think about that right before I went into the shower. Or maybe I did. There was a detachable showerhead...

Yeah, no. I grabbed my bag from its spot on the other side of the couch and rifled through it, grabbing clothes for my shower. The clock on the DVD player showed that it was a little after ten. Normally, Dex would be in his garage working out so that gave me more time to wonder what the hell was going on.

Was I being a pushover by letting him assume that I would want to.... to what? Be with him? Date him? Dex didn't seem like the type of man that dated. Or the type of man that had a girlfriend.

Where did that leave us?

If I was smart, as smart as I'd been my entire life, I'd call Sonny and tell him what was happening.

I wasn't though, not today or tomorrow. I could justify not calling by saying that I didn't want to stress him out or piss him off. Right. It wasn't at all because the thought of making Dex hard—like he'd been back at Pins—turned me on more than any time I'd spent with my ex-boyfriend times a hundred. No, siree.

Who am I kidding? I was a total, complete liar.

The idea of not seeing Dex nearly every day made me incredibly unhappy.

I was screwed.

Twenty minutes later, I was out of the bathroom, teeth and hair brushed, clean, and slightly more alert. Dex hadn't made an appearance yet, so I wandered into the kitchen to make something for breakfast.

I had just stuck two frozen waffles into the conventional oven before pouring the coffee Dex had already brewed when I felt what had become an all too familiar heat pierce through the thin material of my long-sleeved t-shirt. This was right before arms caged me against the counter, one on each side, biceps touching my triceps.

I froze.

“Sleep good?” the raspy voice asked against my ear. Warm breath wafted over all the skin within centimeters of it.

The instinct to turn my head in his direction was right there, taunting me, calling for me, and that was a bad, bad thing. I couldn’t step backward because that would bring us flush together, but there wasn’t any space to step forward or to the side either.

“Like your shampoo, babe.” More moist breath against me.

Jesus, I needed to get it together.

Luckily I was facing away from Dex, so I was able to keep my wide, alarmed eyes away from his view. “I did,” I answered his question a little weakly, ignoring his comment about my hair.

He chuckled right up against me. His chest so close to mine I could feel the vibrations radiating from his laughter onto my skin. I wanted to scowl but instinct told me that something so simple would cause more unnecessary physical contact so I tried to pull my best imitation of a statue for longer.

His nose grazed the skin right behind my ear. “Pour me a cup when you get a chance?” His voice still had that rough edge to it. Paired with the heat of his chest and the breath touching a spot that should be an erogenous zone—if it wasn’t already—he was making it so friggin’ hard to stay still.

I was going to need to change my underwear if he didn’t step away in like a second.

So I nodded with more enthusiasm than I needed. I mean, he usually served our coffee, but still. “Sure.”

Then this guy moved the tip of his nose just a little higher, resting it right where skin met my hairline and took a deep, deep inhale. “Goddamn that's good.”

New underwear. Oh crap, I was going to need new underwear. Stat.

Dex didn’t move away. He took another inhale and if I wouldn’t have been floating around in the universe to keep from dissolving into a pool of melted ovaries, I would have noticed that his arms tightened around me.

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