Dirty Dix (Hard Love Romance #1) (14 page)

I reach out with one arm and uncover her face. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with you. And it’s my job to know these things,” I say, trying to make light of the situation.

“Yes, there is,” she sadly counters with a sniff.

Quickly glancing over, I see tears are collecting in her beautiful green eyes. Her sadness breaks my heart, so I decide to set her straight, as this self-doubt is painful to watch.

“From where I sit, I don’t see anything but perfection.” It’s out before I can stop myself, and I hope she isn’t freaked out by my honesty. I focus on the road, waiting for her reply.

“Thank you, Dixon,” she whispers after a minute of silence. “If only that were true.”

What is she hiding? We all have a past, but Madison’s is one that rules her future. The doctor in me is itching to find out what, and dissect her. But the man in me just wants to hold her and tell her that everything will be all right. I don’t understand why I feel that way, but there’s something inside of her that makes me want to be a better man.

“Where are we going?” she asks. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts.

Shit, I’ve ended up driving in the opposite direction from to where Madison lives, and unintentionally headed into my neighborhood. The rain is still punishing, and my wipers are working overtime, trying to keep up with the heavy shower.

“To my place,” I say, and quickly explain before I creep her out. “There’s no way I’m leaving you out in the rain with no key to get into your building. I was thinking you could use my phone, as I’ve left my cell at home, and call someone who may have a spare key. Or, I could drop you off someplace?” I suggest, hoping like hell she doesn’t say David’s.

There’s a slight pause before she nods, and I let out the involuntary breath I was holding.

“I’ll call Mary. Although…” She looks at her watch. “She probably won’t be home. I was meant to meet up with her, but—” She halts, chewing on her bottom lip as she tugs at the seatbelt nervously.

I wonder what she was going to say, but I don’t push. Besides, the way her eyes narrow, I don’t think I want to know.

“Thank you for coming to my rescue. Again,” she says. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

“What?” I gasp, turning into my underground car park. “Why on earth would I think that?”

“Because I’m either falling down, injuring myself, or getting into smack downs with my stalker ex when you’re around. Or I’m sending you a peace-offering cheesecake, and don’t hear from you all week,” she adds on a whisper.

Pulling into my car space, I turn off the car and swivel to face her as I unbuckle my belt. Her hands are nervously twisting in her lap and she won’t meet my eyes.

“I don’t think you’re pathetic,” I reply firmly.

“Then why haven’t I heard from you?” she questions, raising her eyes to meet mine. “I wanted to apologize for being such an inhospitable host, hence the cheesecake. But then I didn’t hear from you, so I thought maybe you didn’t like cheesecake. Or maybe you just don’t like me.” She lowers her eyes once again.

This girl is breaking my resolve with her honesty, and I realize it must be the alcohol talking, ’cause this is a side to Madison I’ve never seen. She’s usually a little more guarded with her feelings, so I can’t help but ask.

“For the record, I do like cheesecake…
and
you. But hypothetically speaking, if I were to not like either, would that matter?”

Madison raises her eyes and bites her lip. “I would say you were mad for not liking cheesecake. I mean, that’s just crazy talk,” she says with a quiver to her voice.

“And what if I said, hypothetically, of course, that I didn’t like you?” I huskily ask, leaning forward a fraction.

She gulps, and my gaze drops to her heaving chest, which is practically transparent through her white silk camisole that is still damp from the rain. The lace imprint of her cream bra can be clearly seen through the wet material, and my mouth salivates at the unblemished sight.

“I-I would be…” she stutters, nervously fidgeting. “I would be terribly upset if you didn’t like me, Dixon,” she whispers, leaning forward, our breaths mingling as one.

“Why?” I ask, matching her tone as I lean closer, my eyes meeting hers.

I suppress my moan as she licks her full bottom lip, her pink tongue doing unimaginable things to my libido.

“Because…I like…being your friend,” she says, which is like a bucket of icy cold water, dousing my heated hormones.

Not allowing my composure to slip, however, I smile. “Well, I like being your friend also.”

Madison smiles half-heartedly, and I can’t stop myself as I reach forward and softly run my knuckle down her cheek, leaving invisible sparks in its wake. “Let’s go inside, you’re shivering.”

She quickly replies, “I’m not cold.”

“You’re shaking,” I say, watching goose pimples cover her upper body.

“Am I?” she asks, focusing on my mouth.

The dense heat in the car is fogging up the windows and my brain, shrouding us from the outside world. Blind to the universe, it feels like it’s only Madison and me, and I can’t stop myself as I lean forward, closing the distance between us. A magnetic pull controls my actions, and I’m powerless to stop it. But who am I to fight nature?

Madison’s breath gets caught in her throat, and just as I lean in further, mere inches separating our lips, she shakes her head and pulls back quickly, her eyes flighty and wide.

“O-Okay, lead the w-way,” she stammers, totally shooting me down.

Taking a deep breath, I nod but hesitate, as I suddenly don’t know if going up to my apartment is the best thing to do. And it’s not because of my stupid rule.

It’s because I don’t know how I’ll respond to having Madison in my home, because all I can think about is how her soft lips would taste as I press her up against my bedroom wall. I really should have thought about this ingenious plan
before
I was sitting in my apartment’s underground garage.

Manning up, I pull it together and smile. “Follow me.” I exit the car, afraid of what I’m leading us into.

“
W
ould you like a towel
?” Dixon asks as he tosses his keys onto the marbled countertop.

Looking down at my soiled, very transparent top, I nod. “Yes, please.” I shyly cross my arms across my chest.

Dixon smiles. “I won’t be a minute. Please make yourself at home.” He disappears down the hallway.

The moment he’s out of sight, I let out the pent-up breath I was holding and lean over, bracing my hands on my knees and taking five deep breaths. When I feel relatively calm, I stand back up and attempt to process everything that happened.

Tonight has been one of the craziest nights of my life, and I’ve lived through some crazy shit. It all started with meeting David’s parents. I was beyond nervous, but the moment I met Dean and Rhonda, all my nerves were put to rest. Our conversation wasn’t forced, and before I knew it, we were bidding one another farewell and promising to catch up soon.

Not once did my thoughts stray to Dixon, and as David glanced at me throughout the evening with nothing but adulation in his eyes, I realized I wasn’t being fair to him. He was trying, while I was barely making an effort, so when he asked if I wanted to stay the night at his place, I said yes.

He was beyond excited and his enthusiasm was contagious, because before I knew it, we were making out in my apartment, heading toward my bedroom. We were only meant to drop by my place so I could grab a change of clothes, but I got caught up in David’s hypnotizing eyes and dimpled smile. I was also feeling a touch rejected by Dixon, who I hadn’t heard from all week.

I like David, I really do. He’s straightforward, and he doesn’t mess with my head. Not to mention he’s the perfect gentleman with perfect parents. So why did I freak out when we started getting hot and heavy?

It was because being with David is easy, and nothing thus far has been easy in my life. What if he’s really too good to be true and I fall in too deep, letting myself go, and he hurts me? What happens if he finds out the true reason behind my detachment, and can’t handle the truth?

These thoughts plagued my mind, and before I knew it, he was unzipping my jeans and burying his face where I
never
want anyone to be. He felt me freak out and begged me to tell him what was wrong. But I couldn’t. I’m not ready to tell him. I’m not ready to relive the worst night of my life.

But then I did something stupid. I threw him out. I threw him out with no explanation why I flipped out. And like the true gentleman that he is, he left.

His kind response made me feel even worse and I called the only person that could make it go away.

Mary.

She was out at Cherry Pop, so I caught a cab and met her there. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, I was secretly hoping I would bump into Dixon again. However, my horrible night went from bad to fucking worse.

The club was huge, and it didn’t help that half of Manhattan was there. We didn’t organize a place to meet, so I went upstairs in hopes I would find her there, but instead I found Dixon basically getting a lap dance from a blonde barfly, and he didn’t seem to mind.

I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, and I ended up running down the stairs and directly into Tim.

He was the last person I wanted to see, so I couldn’t help but give him a piece of my mind once and for all. I was handling my own just fine, but then out of nowhere, Dixon came throwing down like the fucking Terminator. Memories of the eager, handsy blonde plagued my mind, and I was mad that he was here, saving the day once again, because he clearly wasn’t thinking about me five minutes before.

Then before I knew it, Dixon’s fragrance and chivalry was screwing with me and I was being whisked away in the rain.

In the car, Dixon did it to me once again, and I lost all sense of reason and told him things I never intended to say. When he asked me if I wanted to be dropped off anywhere, I couldn’t say David’s place, for obvious reasons. And Mary was probably drunk and on the prowl, as she had finally stopped hating men.

So it made sense to go to his place and call her, instead of turning up on her doorstep unannounced, and honestly, I wanted to spend more time with him and ask why he didn’t contact me all week. I know I have no right to be mad, but we were moments away from kissing Monday night, and then I got the cold shoulder all week.

I don’t get it. I don’t get him. And I don’t get my reaction toward him, especially when I’m supposedly dating David.

I need to stay away, but I can’t.

“Here you go,” Dixon says, snapping me out my thoughts as he passes me a burgundy towel and his phone.

“Thanks.” I unclasp my messy bun and towel off my hair, paying attention to the soaked ends.

“Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Just water, please,” I reply, as my tipsy body needs some H
₂
O.

“Sure thing.” He disappears once again.

I’m not sure if it’s my imagination or not, but Dixon appears nervous, but I disregard it and dial Mary. As expected, she doesn’t answer.

I could call Sebastian, but I don’t want to disturb him and my mom at 2 a.m.

Dixon returns moments later with a goblet of water and a bag of peas.

“Did you get a hold of her?” he asks, and I notice he’s changed into a navy V-neck tee.

I shake my head. “No. She’s not answering. I’ll try again.”

After ten fruitless phone calls and an abundance of wasted text messages, I give up.

“I’ll call a cab,” I say with a sigh, and in that precise moment, a thunderclap sounds so loudly, I yelp in terror, dropping my bag of peas to the floor. “I hate storms,” I explain, my hand over my racing heart.

“Well, you can’t go back out there then,” Dixon says, picking up the peas and placing them against my injured hand.

“So, what do you suggest?” I ask, lifting my eyes to meet his, touched by his kindness to tend to my wounds.

“Well…you could stay here,” he casually suggests with a shrug, applying firmer pressure to my hand.

“Here?” I gasp, my heart beginning to race once again.

“Sure. I’ll sleep on the sofa. No biggie.”

“No, I can’t do that,” I quickly counter, because that would be wrong.

“What? Stay here?” he asks, his eyebrows knitting together as he releases my hand.

Yes, I so should not be staying here. But it’s getting late, and I’m running out of options.

I’ve come to a crossroad and I’ve decided I want Dixon in my life, and although I’m seeing David, that doesn’t mean I can’t be Dixon’s friend. This is all part of moving on with my life.

So with that affirmation in mind, I clarify, “I can’t let you sleep on the sofa,” as I would feel awful kicking him out of his bed.

“I don’t mind,” he says with a smirk, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

“Well, I do,” I stubbornly argue. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not sleeping on the sofa.”

I’m suddenly struck with a very bold idea. “We’re both adults. I mean, we could both sleep in your bed. If you don’t mind,” I add, not wanting to seem presumptuous.

A smirk tugs at Dixon’s lips. “As long as you don’t snore, then sure, I don’t mind sharing my bed with you.”

I laugh, happy he’s making jokes. “Not that I’m aware of,” I confess.

Dixon nods, and as he slowly scans down my body, my cheeks flush a bright red.

“Would you like a change of clothes and a shower?” he asks after clearing his throat.

Picking at my soaked top, I nod. “Yes, please. Sorry for imposing.”

Dixon shakes his head, his damp hair flicking up in deliciously rebellious peaks. “You’re no imposition at all.”

As Dixon makes his way down the hallway, I realize that I want to ask who the handsy blonde was. But what right do I have? He can see whoever he wants. I mean, we’re just friends, right?