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Screaming.
I’m one long shriek of ecstasy as his hips collide with mine and the heat, the friction, the pleasure demolishes me.
“Junie!” My name sounds inhuman on his lips.
I explode again, and he finishes inside me, releasing hot and wild.
He doesn’t pull out quickly.
Instead, he wraps his arms around me, turning me and holding me against his chest, pressing slow kisses to my shoulder.
There’s such tenderness, such reassurance, that I close my eyes and melt away in his arms.
He stays inside me as we lose ourselves in the afterglow, bathed in the warm summer night.
I can’t remember the last time I smiled like this as he gently leans my face back to taste me again.
And I worry that I’ll never smile this sweetly and truly again.
* * *
The next weekis like a fairy tale come true.
Picture the perfect partner, a Prince Charming made flesh, a man who actually gives a damn about you every minute, and you have him.
You have the fever dream Dexter has become.
He’s so considerate, gentle on the soul and rough on the flesh.
He also spends money on me like it’s about to expire, burying me in fresh flowers and expensive wine and designer shoes that outshine the pairs I lost in the flood by a nautical mile.
What even is this life?
It’s too easy to forget this is fake—and that’s what scares me.
Sometimes, I catch myself forgetting. Like whenever I look at him cooking in the kitchen, working out in the basement, or doing normal Dexter things in his anti-normal life.
I’m afraid this is the sweetest dream.
I’m afraid the time will come for me to open my eyes again any day now.
And I’m afraid that even fake perfection has a karmic price—and it probably has something to do with that date coming up with his elusive business partner.
He leads me into his office—apparently a stunning work office isn’t enough and he needs one at home as well—and sits me down on one side of the desk.
“We need to talk,” he says.
“This is corporate. Are we here to roleplay?” I raise an eyebrow as he sits in the leather power chair behind the desk.
“No. Not yet. This is serious, Junie.”
It’s strange seeing him like this.
Gone is the gentle bear I’ve worshipped over the past few weeks.
His eyes are hard, his mouth harder.
This is the high-strung man who walked into my store all those weeks ago. Workaholic Dex. Moody Dex.
