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Noa
The day had been spent blissfully.Dexter cooked dinner and served it to me in the bath. Before I could protest, he brought in flutes of ginger ale and took off his clothes, joining me among the few bubbles I’d managed to create.
I never had a tub beautiful enough or large enough to actually sit and bathe in. So, when I could finally afford it, I made sure I had one. It wasn’t extravagant. It wasn’t even that large. But the deep smooth tub was new, and despite my planning to take plenty of bubble baths, I hadn’t. When Dexter heard this, he insisted I run a bath. Then he brought in that wonderful smelling food, and I knew.
Someone had told him. Some woman down the line told him what women wanted—food. We just wanted food.
When I explained it to him, he laughed, grabbing his plate from over the edge of the tub and stuffing my face so I couldn’t insist on my half-crazy hypothesis. I was in heaven. I hadn’t had such a great day since...
I told myself not to go there.
“Did you like it?” Dexter asked, wiping sauce from the corner of my mouth.
“I love you. And today. Lots of love.” I grabbed the ginger ale from the floor and gulped it down. “No more. I’m so full.”
He turned to sit back against the edge, and I leaned against him. We stayed that way for what felt like hours. I nuzzled my face against his arm. The feel of his slick skin against mine did something to me. I inhaled his fragrance and settled deeper into him. His legs surrounded mine and I looked at his left knee, running my fingers over the edge of his scar. The scar was newer, pinker, when we began. Now it was faded into the rest of his skin, the raised texture the only thing reminding us that the accident ever happened.
Will the scars I bear ever fade? Even if they aren’t physical?
“When do you leave?” I asked. I wanted to ignore that he’d be gone soon. And when he was gone, I’d do my damndest to ignore missing him.
“An hour,” he whispered at my temple.
An hour. Sixty minutes. I didn’t know how many seconds, but I knew it wasn’t long enough. “When am I seeing you again?” I was afraid of this part. The needing part. TheI can’t do anything without youpart. Thewondering if he was going to realize I wasn’t worth the troublepart.
“Whenever you want. You could even come to Everett. It’s actually easier for you to come than me. I have a boss who’s quite unhappy with my vacation.” He poured water down my skin, watching as it slid in rivulets down to the rest of the water.
“I have a boss, too. She just understands that I’m an artist. And that I don’t work on her schedule.” I sat up and turned to face him. I didn’t mind when his eyes went to my breasts. “What would I do in Everett?”
“Be mine. Go to lunch meetings with me. Take away the stuffiness and make everyone fall in love with you.”
I picked up where he left off. “Piss off your secretary, who I’msureis infatuated with you, thinking of ways to drug your coffee so she can have her mad, passionate way with you.” I leaned in close, watching his lips part before I whispered, “Play house. You can come home to me.”
I hadn’t seen it coming. Water splashed over the edge of the tub, onto the empty glasses and plates. His touch was like the blue fire I’d come to associate with anything involving the two of us. His hands were everywhere—my waist, my back, my wrists, my face. He blessed my skin with his fingers, always knowing what to do, how much pressure it took to push me.
Thiswas what I’d been waiting for.
I didn’t want sex with strangers. I didn’t want not knowing someone’s name after giving him my body for pleasure. I wanted that equal transaction. The love that gave sex meaning.
Only Dexter could give that to me.
* * *
Dexter stoodin my living room, looking masculine among the very feminine furniture. His coat was on and he still had to grab his things and check out of his hotel.
“Do me a favor and never go back to that hotel,” I murmured, smoothing over the shoulders of his jacket before kissing his cheek.
He squatted low enough to look me in my eyes. “If you need anything at all, or if you’re just missing me too much, let me know. I’ll send my car to you.” He wrapped me in his arms and kissed my forehead.
“I guess I’ll be calling you as soon as you leave then,” I whispered, smiling at his chuckle.
“You could always come with me,” he offered, with a lilt of hopefulness.
I shook my head. “No, I’ve got some work to get to if I expect to be ready for the new showcase. I might be unreachable at times. I love to lock myself away from the world when I work.” I handed him the card on which I’d written the address to my studio. “That’s where you’ll find me.”
It was hard to say goodbye to an extension of yourself, but when Dexter walked out after kissing me sweetly, I leaned against my closed door, breathing deeply. Then I pulled the door open and caught him before he entered the elevator. I didn’t want a sweet kiss. I wanted a kiss that was going to remind him he was mine and I was his.
He lifted me so my legs wrapped around his waist and we held onto each other. “You make it hard to want to get into that elevator.”
