Dirty Dix (Hard Love Romance #1) (20 page)

S
eeing
Dixon after so long was exactly how I predicted it to be—a damn disaster.

My heart sped up the moment I saw him enter the restaurant, looking totally at ease and owning the room with his confidence and poise. However, my heart began racing for an entirely different reason, and that reason was the blonde waitress who zeroed in on him the moment he entered the room. Jealousy like I’ve never experienced before hit me so hard I had to excuse myself and take a breather in the bathroom before I did something I regretted, like claw out her eyes.

When I returned, I saw him openly flirt with her and look like a pig in shit when she gave him her number. But why should I care?
I
was the one who ran out on him like an insane person, when he did nothing wrong.
I
was also the one who told him I could never see him again without giving him an explanation why I had such a sudden change of heart. And
I
was the one who told him
he
was a mistake, which was a total lie.

Honestly, I couldn’t tell him why I freaked. It’s not something I want to share with anyone, but a small part of me does with Dixon, and that’s what scares me the most. Feeling nothing but kindness and tenderness in his touch showed me that maybe, just maybe, I have a second chance at living a normal life.

But then I went and screwed it up.

When I left Dixon’s that night, I knew there was something I had to do; I had to tell David it was over. It was unfair to string him along, and I knew he would probably hate me, but I would prefer that than hurt him a second longer.

So for the past month, I have focused on school, and have purposely not focused on how I messed things up with Dixon. I know he would never give me another chance, but honestly, I really need to deal with my demons before I go and be intimate with anyone ever again.

However, after being worshipped by Dixon, I don’t want to experience that with anyone other than him. The way he touched me was unlike anything I have ever felt. I found a new sense of freedom in my physical liberation with Dixon, but that all went to hell, thanks to my meltdown.

Plain and simple, I’m scared. And I’d rather be scared and push Dixon away, than get hurt, because with Dixon that hurt will almost certainly result in tears, heartache, and pain. So staying away is better for everyone.

My apprehension about opening up has me standing in front of my hotel mirror, trying to look enthused for my breakfast date with Dixon, but it’s going as expected—terrible. When Dr. Wellington proposed having breakfast with Dixon, I couldn’t say no. I was honored he even asked me to attend this event with him in the first place, as I know how prestigious it is.

I just have to suck it up and deal because this is for the best. I can act professional, and I sure as hell can pretend that Dixon never inflamed my body with his gentle mouth and needy hands. Thanks to his flirty encounter with the Barbie Doll, I now have the fuel to douse any nostalgia I may feel, because it’s obvious he’s moved on, and now it’s my turn to do the same.

“
E
verything okay
?” Dr. Wellington asks while I nervously fidget with the napkin in my lap.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine,” I reply, guiltily meeting his concerned eyes. “I’m just feeling a little off-color.”

“Oh, dear, you should have mentioned something earlier. Would you like to go back upstairs?” he kindly suggests, but I shake my head, as I’m determined to make it through this one breakfast and prove to myself, and to Dixon, that I’ve moved on.

But that statement is quickly revoked when I smell the most delicious fragrance known to mankind float through the room. I know in a heartbeat who’s wearing that heady scent. It belongs to the owner of that deep, husky voice, which has my entire body spreading out in goose pimples the moment he opens his mouth.

“Good morning,” Dixon says, addressing the table, while I choke on…air.

Subtly coughing, I hope my asphyxiation passes before I have to face the hottest man on the planet. Thankfully it does, and I raise my eyes to meet his, but the moment I do, I almost choke once again.

“Good morning, Dixon,” Dr. Wellington says, oblivious to my sudden inability to breathe.

“Max,” he replies, giving him a small nod, but his eyes never leave mine.

“This is Madison and Alex.” Dr. Wellington introduces us, unaware I know Dr. Mathews in a personal way.

That thought has me thinking about someone else who probably also knows Dr. Mathews personally, and that would be the little tart from last night.

With that vision in mind, I straighten my spine and extend my hand. “Lovely to meet you, Dr. Mathews.”

Dixon happily accepts it, and I tell my body to stop somersaulting in excitement the moment our hands touch.

“Pleasure,” he replies with a grin, and I try not to stare at the way his checkered shirt highlights his rocky planes and hardened muscles.

He then turns his eyes to Alex, the Russian beauty to my right. “Why hello, Alex,” he says, accepting her hand, but delivering a light kiss on the back of her knuckles.

I have no doubt the entire table can hear my teeth grinding at the sight, but I calmly reach for my water and remind myself it’s only one breakfast, and then he’ll be gone.

When Dixon takes a seat next to me, I try not to stare at his long fingers as he reaches for the menu, but images of those fingers wrapping around my breasts and playing with my nipples suddenly assault my brain, and I clumsily drop my glass, spilling water down the front of my white sundress.

“Shit!” I quietly curse, reaching for my soiled napkin and uselessly wiping down my dress.

“Oh, Madison, are you okay?” Dr. Wellington asks, the concern clear in his voice. “Let me call a waiter.”

My cheeks are flushed, I’m beyond embarrassed, and I need to get away from Dixon’s eagle eyes because I can feel him staring at me. “It’s fine, Dr. Wellington. I’ll just clear it up.” Kicking out my chair, I drop to the floor to pick up my glass.

There is really no need for me to be down here, but it gives me a moment to catch my breath before I have to go back up there and face Dixon’s smugness.

“Are you going to stay down there all morning?” Dixon asks with a smirk, and I raise my eyes to see his baby blues peering down at me, as he’s leaned across my seat, watching my every move.

I refrain from using an expletive, as his smug expression pisses me off, so I quickly regain my composure and retake my seat without throwing my glass at his face. My cheeks are hot and I’m a little breathless, but apart from that I think I’m over my madness.

“Sorry about that,” I say, mainly addressing Dr. Wellington, who waves off the apology.

Thankfully, our waiter arrives and takes our orders, and without thinking, I order the waffles and a side order of French toast.

“In the mood for something sweet this morning, Madison?” Dixon asks, his voice dripping with innuendo.

Turning to meet his arrogant gaze, I boldly nod. “Yes, dinner left a bitter taste in my mouth, so I need something sweet to wash away the taste.”

Dixon blanches, knowing full well I’m referring to his rendezvous, and my confidence is lifted when he runs a hand through his hair, suddenly looking mighty uncomfortable.

Dr. Wellington picks up on the hostility and tries to change the subject. “So, Dixon, please, enlighten us with your findings.”

Dixon takes in my appearance for a final moment before turning to look at Dr. Wellington, appearing unruffled and completely composed. “Well, as you know, addiction is a very complex thing.”

I suddenly feel my cheeks begin to heat once again.

“It most definitely is,” Dr. Wellington says with a nod. “People lose who they are and what they once were due to some powerful addictions. But the question here is: why do some people become addicts, and others, merely appreciators? I mean, I love cotton candy, but I’m not compulsed to seek it out on a daily basis, nor do I lose control in limiting my intake. So, what’s the trigger?”

“Desire,” Dixon coolly replies, while I shuffle in my seat.

“What about it?” Dr. Wellington asks, and I internally groan because I have a feeling I’m not going to like how this conversation ends.

“Well, most people become addicts because they crave, they desire that high, whether artificial or natural. Is this a classic case of nature versus nurture? Or is it something more? I think it’s a lot simpler in some basic circumstances. We all desire pleasure, we want to feel good, and that triggers a neurobiological response, alerting the brain that eating, smoking, taking drugs, or having sex with random strangers feels good,” Dixon explains, his voice lowering when he adds in the last point.

I find his thoughts absolutely fascinating, and for a moment, I forget I’m infatuated with the guy and listen to his ingenious beliefs.

“Therefore, we become addicted to that ‘high,’” he says, using quotation marks. “And the reward that high delivers.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Dr. Wellington affirms, his eyes twinkling in excitement.

“I want my findings to exhibit that, yes, I acknowledge substance abuse, for example, is a disorder, however, simpler ‘addictions’ are triggered by raw, basic human emotions. The reward itself is what we become addicted to.”

I’m lost in Dixon’s intelligence, watching the way he uses his hands as explanatory tools, when he turns in his seat to look at me with a sly look in his eye.

“So, Madison. You seem like a fairly uncomplicated girl,” he smugly says, tongue in cheek, while I narrow my eyes and glare at him, as this is obviously an intentional jab at me. I remain calm and wait for him to finish.“Is there one intrinsic thing you seem to be addicted to?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

I don’t understand what he’s trying to achieve by putting me on the spot this way, but I’ll be damned if I show weakness.

When I merely shrug, my noncommittal gesture seems to tick Dixon off, and he presses. “C’mon, there’s got to be one thing you do that you know is bad for you, but the reward, the stimuli you receive from that one bad action, cancels out all repercussions, and you keep coming back for more.”

The table is silent, waiting for me to reply. But when Dixon arrogantly says, “Well, maybe you’re a lot more complicated than I originally thought,” I lose my cool, and let him know the one and only thing I’m addicted to.

“I obviously fall for the wrong men,” I spit out, springing out of my chair. “But you know what, Dr. Mathews? The reward is really not worth the pain.”

His face softens for a fraction of a second, but it’s then replaced with an unkind, callous mask of a man I no longer know.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, on the verge of tears. I quickly make a wild dash toward the exit, unable to face him a moment longer.

The second I charge into the empty elevator, a sob escapes me, and I cover my mouth to mute my tears. How could he have been so mean? Yes, we didn’t part on the best of terms, but his performance was downright cruel. I would never go out of my way to embarrass him in front of others, especially someone like Dr. Wellington, or flirt with my peer. His actions today have made it perfectly clear he doesn’t care. Maybe he never did.

Wiping my eyes, I dejectedly exit the elevator and mope all the way to my room. Slipping off my shoes and soiled dress, I placed the DND sign on the door and crawl into bed. Here’s hoping I don’t dream because this time around, my dreams of Dr. Mathews are no longer welcomed.

I
’m a bastard
.

Yes, what I did at breakfast this morning was fairly unorthodox, but kicking the habit means
kicking
the habit. No half-assed attempts at getting Madison out of my life, because the way she looked at me, I know she felt it, too. That invisible, electrical current was once again passing between us, and to rid her from my life,
she
needs to be the one who walks away because I don’t think I can be the one who cuts ties.

She made her intentions very clear when she walked out of my apartment and told me to leave her alone. However, I can’t help but think about what she said earlier. She said she obviously falls for the wrong men. So, inadvertently, she admitted that she’s fallen for me.

But if that’s the case, then why did she freak out in my apartment? And more importantly, why did she stay away? I have no idea if she’s still seeing the jerkoff, I mean, that would be a good reason why, but that didn’t stop her from returning my kisses. That’s why I’m confident that Madison’s tainted past is stopping her from moving on. And sadly, no one can fight those demons except Madison herself.

But I can’t force her to tell me her secrets, or force her to be with me. If I push, I have no doubt Madison will pull away. So what am I to do?

I hate feeling this way, and in times of crisis, I would normally burn off my restlessness by finding a warm body and losing myself in the comfort only a warm body can provide. But I don’t want that.

Groaning, I turn off my laptop and decide to hit the gym. It’s now 10:30 p.m., and the only chance of getting a wink of sleep is to run until I drop into an exhausted heap.

But no matter how far I run, I know Madison will always be two steps ahead.

I
t’s Friday night
, and the majority of guests have arrived for the awards ceremony, which is to take place tomorrow evening. I have kept to myself all week, pretty much barricading myself in my room, and honestly, it’s been a nice change focusing on books instead of boobs.

But sadly, my hermit status must be put on hold as all attendees are invited to attend a pre-awards dinner party, and it would be unwise of me not to go.

It’s a formal event, so I’ve dressed smart in a pinstripe monkey suit, but I’ve slipped on a vest as the heat is atrocious and I have no desire to be sweating into my champagne. As I make my way to the elevator, I bump into Chad Turner, my friend from the Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences board, and a woman who I’m presuming is his new squeeze, as her enormous rock is blinding me with its brand new sparkle. She also happens to be his junior by about forty years.

“Dixon,” Chad happily says, extending his hand. “How lovely to see you. Did you just arrive?”

“No, I actually drove down a few days ago,” I explain, pressing the call button and ignoring the predatory eyes of the brunette by Chad’s side. “I needed to get out of the city.”

“Ah, yes, New York can be rather taxing. Have you enjoyed your stay so far?” he asks as the elevator cart stops on our floor.

As we enter, the brunette makes a point of standing rather close to me, and I make a point of subtly moving away. “Yes, it’s been wonderful, although I haven’t had much of a chance to sightsee. I’ve been working on my paper.”

“Oh? More research into neurobiology and addiction?” he asks, and I nod. “I love what you have presented thus far; your findings are rather genius. All book work? Or a bit of personal experience?” he asks with a smirk, watching the floors tick by above his head.

“A bit of both,” I reply, and move back a fraction, as this bold brunette just shifted a touch closer.

“I would love to hear your theories. Are you free tomorrow for a round of golf?” he asks.

“Sure, I would love to,” I reply, and practically storm out of the elevator when the doors open. “Meet you in the lobby around nine thirty?”

Wrapping his arm around the tart’s tiny waist, he proudly says, “Yes, that’s perfect. Rebecca loves golf, don’t you, honey?”

“I sure do. I can’t wait to see you on the greens,” she replies. She can’t be serious.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Chad says. “I have to show this little beauty off to my jealous colleagues.”

She giggles, throwing me a flirty wink over her shoulder as we enter the ballroom, while I head straight for the bar. After that god-awful experience, I need a scotch to settle me down.

The bartender gives me a small smile as she sneakily slips me a double shot.

I take my drink and decide to work the room because I’ve already seen half a dozen people I want to talk to. This is what these functions are all about. For people to big-note themselves, for others to boast and brag about the millions of dollars they make, and for people like me to get to the top, using my brain rather than my wallet to succeed.

I’ve made a name for myself, and for that I’m proud, but unlike the majority of fossils that are here, I’ve done so through hard work and keeping in touch with the newest theories and studies. Yes, I may have fallen off the wagon, but I’m back on it, and I’m determined to win that award next year.

T
wo hours later
, I’ve worked the room and spoken to everyone I wanted to chat with. My theories were debated by almost every person, but when I explained the facts, nearly all seemed to understand my approach.

Most faces I recognized, but some I didn’t, and those were the ones I made sure I got to know. I have made some new allies this evening, and the ones I already had were singing my praises. I may be a failure in my personal life, but career-wise, I’m fucking nailing it.

Making my way over to the bar, the same bartender from earlier spots me and reaches for the scotch with a smile.

“Make that two,” a voice to the left says.

I turn and see Chad’s wife or mistress, or whatever the hell she is, standing beside me, a sinister smile marring her ruby red lips. “We weren’t formally introduced,” she says and extends her hand, her bracelets jingling with the movement. “I’m Rebecca.”

Accepting her hand, I shake it lightly. “Nice to meet you, Rebecca. I’m Dixon,” I reply, letting go of her hand, as I’m afraid she’ll shove it down the front of her purple dress.

“So, Dixon, you wouldn’t happen to know what they do for fun around here, would you?” she asks, her finger skirting around the rim of her glass once the bartender places our glasses on the counter.

Trying to remain cool, I smile. “You have looked around, haven’t you?” I ask, twirling my pointer. “No fun will be found in a room full of doctors.”

She grins, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. “Well, how about you and I go make our own fun?” she suggests, dipping the tip of her finger into the scotch and wetting her lower lip with the liquid.

Jesus H. Christ, no foreplay with this man-eater. She’s just gone in for the kill in under sixty seconds. I’m impressed. Too bad she’s completely and utterly off limits.

“Thank you for the very tempting offer,” I say, reaching for my glass. “But I’m going to have to decline.”

“Excuse me?” she replies in disbelief. “Just in case we’re not clear, that was an offer to fuck your brains out. Free of charge.”

Free of charge. Is she a hooker? No way would Chad bring a prostitute to this thing.

Remaining calm, I nod. “Oh, we’re clear. But I don’t think your husband would appreciate me banging boots with his wife.”

Scoffing, she leans in closer, purring into my ear. “He’s not my husband…yet. And besides, the old fart will be asleep by eleven. I need a real man to satisfy my needs, not a Viagra-popping grandpa.”

Well, Rebecca is not one to sugarcoat, well…anything. She’s obviously with Chad for the money, as he’s ridiculously loaded. He’s also a well-educated, highly intelligent man, but it goes to show you even the smartest of men get lost in the garden of the forbidden coochie.

I don’t feel so bad now.

“How ’bout I just blow you then?” she suggests like we’re talking sports.

“Again, thank you,” I say, stepping away. “But no.”

“Are you gay?” she retorts, hand on hip, unbelieving a heterosexual man could turn her down.

With a smug smile, I shake my head. “I’m very much straight, peaches. I just don’t want to fuck you. I’ve been around your kind for far too long, and as of now, I’m detoxing.”

“That can’t be true. I’ve been told you were a sure thing,” she says, looking annoyed.

Her comment has me stepping in closer, not wanting anyone to overhear what she just said.

“Excuse me? Who told you that?” I ask, horrified.

Rebecca looks around the room, obviously trying to spot the culprit. “Her,” she finally says, pointing over my shoulder.

I can’t stop myself and I quickly turn, not caring that I appear desperate. The moment I see her, I curse myself for not guessing who it was sooner.

“She said that you like to fuck, and like to fuck hard,” Rebecca states into my ear, while I cringe, listening to the words that have come back to bite me in the ass.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, my eyes locked with Juliet’s as she gives me a smug wave from across the room while sipping her champagne.

“I’m first in line,” Rebecca says, latching onto my arm as I make my escape.

I discreetly pull out of her clutches, not wanting to make a scene. “There
is
no line,” I bark, my patience wearing thin. “I don’t know what Juliet told you, but I assure you, they’re all lies.”

“Juliet? She told me her name was Sarah,” Rebecca reveals, looking at Juliet and narrowing her eyes. Juliet no doubt gave an alias, as she was hoping to remain undetected as the culprit who has just turned my night to shit.

“See, there you go. If she lied to you about her name, what else did she lie to you about?” I say. Not sticking around to hear her response, I politely push my way through the crowd and storm over to Juliet in record speed.

“Dr. Mathews,” she purrs, her lips tipping up into a devious smile.

“Can I have a word?” I snarl under my breath, gripping her bicep.

Thankfully she doesn’t object and comes with me as I practically drag her outside and onto the balcony. There are a few people smoking out here, but most are too wasted or caught up in conversation to notice me snarling at her, about ready to toss her off the railing.

“
What
are you doing here?” I say, the hostility clear in my tone as I release her arm roughly.

“I’m here because you invited me to attend,” she replies, smoothing out her gold-colored gown.

“Well, the invitation has been revoked. Now leave,” I say from between clenched teeth.

“Babe, what’s the matter?” she has the nerve to ask, wrapping a hand around my nape and attempting to draw me close.

I stand my ground and pull away from her because she has clearly lost her mind. “Juliet, I have no idea what game you’re playing, but you need to leave immediately. These are my work colleagues. You can’t be here, and you most certainly can’t be spreading vile rumors.”

“Rumors?” Juliet challenges, brushing back her hair. “Rumors would imply a false story. But we both know what you’ve been up to. I believe what I told your little admirer was indeed fact.”

Internally counting to five, I sneer, “What do you want?”

Juliet laughs, and the sound which once made me smile now makes me want to hurl.

“I want things to go back to the way they were. I’m not asking for a commitment, Dixon, I just want you to worship me the way you did before,” she reveals, stepping forward and cupping my balls. “I miss you. No one can make me come the way you do.”

“Stop it,” I scold, stepping out of her hold and looking from left to right to ensure no one saw.

Juliet smirks, and I know she has the power to break me. But what she’s proposing, I would rather be exposed for the pervert that I am than be held prisoner by her scheming snatch.

“No,” I say firmly.

“Why not? Did you get engaged or something while I was away?”

Her comment inspires me to answer truthfully. “Actually, yes, I met someone,” I confess, while Juliet pales.

“Who is she? Your little sleepover buddy?”

“Someone you will never know,” I say, taking great pleasure in seeing her seethe.

“I knew it,” she says, her red lips dipping into a tight frown. “What’s her name? I want to know the name of my conqueror.”

“Madison,” I reply, unable to stop myself. How I wish it were true.

When Juliet’s eyes narrow into mere slits, I almost hold my junk, afraid she’s going to take her anger out on my balls.

“Well, good luck to you. All the Madisons I know are boring as batshit,” she says with bite. “Maybe I’ll book an appointment to see you. We can reminisce about the good old days.”

“No,” I reply, wishing she’d leave, as her presence here is dangerous.

What if Madison is planning to attend tonight’s proceedings with Max? If she saw me and Juliet together, she’d know something was up. I never want to be seen in Juliet’s company ever again.

“I must have been absolutely insane to sleep with someone like you,” I state, prowling forward, while Juliet pulls back, hurt. “I was happy to leave things amicable, or at least civil, but you turning up here is completely unacceptable.”

This is the second time I have actually seen any humanity in Juliet, and I intend to take full advantage of it.

“You were just a fuck, Juliet—one I sincerely regret. So if you have any pride, you’ll leave with your head held high, and leave me the fuck alone. Do not call me, message me, or turn up unannounced. You got it? We’re done.”

Her confidence diminishes and her poise is replaced with fury. “You’ll be back, and when you do, you’ll be begging for a second chance.”

“No, I really won’t,” I state, shaking my head. “Goodbye, Juliet. I so hope our paths don’t ever cross again.”

For once, Juliet Harte is speechless, and it’s a sight I’ll never forget.