Pressing my cheek against his back, I leaned into him.“I thought about you too.There’s never really been a time when you weren’t in the back of my mind.I think I’ve compared every guy I’ve ever dated to you.”
“Why would you do that?There’s no way I measured up.”
This time, I pinched his ass, but then I couldn’t resist, and I let my hand caress the taut, rounded muscle and wander down his strong thigh.
“Sorry,” he said, “I’m not tryin’ to talk down about myself, but I was homeless and jobless for a long time, and that’s not even mentionin’ the drugs.”
“Yeah, but I don’t measure a man’s worth by his job or his house.I’ve looked for somethin’ else from men my whole life.”
“What’s that?”he asked, turning to face me.He removed my hands from his hips and placed them on his chest, and right then and there I fell in love with the feeling of my fingertips digging into his pectoral muscles and the way the hair there tickled my skin.
I peeked up at him, blinking away the spray of the shower, but he angled his body to shield me from it.
“Creativity.Imagination,” I said.“I have this weird curiosity about the world, the earth, and when I’m with someone, I always wonder if they feel it too.It’s not somethin’ adults seem to think about, like it got lost as they grew older.My number-crunching accountant mother certainly didn’t, and growin’ up, its absence in my life was loud.
“Gran’s flowers and your stories when we were kids filled the void.I feel it now.And I know you do too.”
“Yeah, I do.I think it’s ’cause of how I came up.I was always curious, and when things started to get dark in my life, the curiosity didn’t go away.It changed and morphed—I sought answers to different questions—but it never left me.And now that I’m sober and learnin’ how to survive life without drugs or alcohol, I lean on it.Y’know?Almost like another coping mechanism.The stories in my head get me through hard moments or sleepless nights.They help me process the world around me.”
I smiled and nodded, because I knew exactly what he meant, but when he bent down, licked the water running between my breasts, and lifted me into his arms, I moaned and wrapped my thighs around his waist.
“Your voice and the sound of your laugh did that for me too,” he said.“I carried it with me, and when things got bad, I’d concentrate really hard and pull up the memory.Sometimes, alone in the dark, I’d let myself feel it—that tickle in my stomach—and I’d laugh, too, like you were right there with me.”
“Iwasthere,” I said, and I slid my arms behind his neck and pressed my lips against his.“And I dreamt about you too.I used to wake up with the sounds of us runnin’ through the woods, laughin’ and chasin’ each other, playing at the edges of my dreams.Those were always good days.”
In a rough, uncertain voice, he said, “I love you, Avery Jane.I think I always have.”
I nodded, hoping the conviction of what I was about to say would give him confidence too.
“I still remember the first time I saw you, standin’ in the middle of Old Fish Creek Road, drippin’ lake water and wearin’ nothin’ but your little blue boxer shorts after you and your brothers had gone swimmin’.I was four years old.You were five, and I’ve loved you every day since.”
“You’re beautiful,”Dixon said.
Running his finger below my collarbone, he traced the thin line of my dress’s black spaghetti strap.Date night had finally arrived, and I felt relaxed, ready, and proud to be on his arm.
A week had passed in a sex-fueled haze.When I imagined sex with Dixon, I really had underestimated him.The man was insatiable andsogiving.
But we’d spent even more time reminiscing about our childhood and talking about what the future might hold for us both.He talked a lot about Stu and his hopes for their future too.Which always led back to sex because that hope was just so damn beautiful when it showed in his eyes.I couldn’t help but kiss him.
Just like now.He dipped his finger below my dress’s thin cotton fabric and let his skin slide over the swell of my breast slowly.My chest rose and fell rapidly as my breath sped.
Turning me a little, he checked out my ass, let out an appreciative “hmm,” then ran his hand down my hip and bunched the fabric in his fist.“I can’t wait to feel you pressed up against me later in this dress.”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I said, admiring the new navy button-down he’d bought in town and his fresh Wranglers.The way he fit into them gifted me with the most perfect view of his ass, other than when it was bare.
“You sure?”he asked, looking down at himself.“I haven’t bought brand-new clothes in a while.You look elegant, and I look like any other ranch hand, dressed for supper.”
“You’re perfect,” I replied when he lifted his eyes back to mine.“And if jeans are what you’re comfortable in, then they’re the sexiest pants on the planet.”
“You have a happy answer for everything, don’t you?You’re diabolically positive.”
I shrugged, grabbed my purse, then hooked my arm through his.
He chuckled.“C’mon, baby girl.Let’s go get us some dinner.”
“I’m not four, Dixon.You can’t call me baby girl anymore.”
Pressing me against the wall with one large hand, he locked my door with the other, smirked, then tucked his mouth into the crook of my neck.“Who says?I didn’t mean it like I said it when we were kids.”
