She asks, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. It feels like a semi ran over my face, but otherwise I’m good.”
With vengeful eyes, she glances toward the locker room door where Shawnasee entered. “I’m going to slash that guy’s tires before we leave. Will that make you feel better?”
I chuckle. “Never change, Dee.”
She sobers and looks down at her hands. Then she confesses, “The thought of having feelings for you—real ‘forever’ kinds of feelings—scares the shit out of me.”
Her declaration doesn’t bother me. She’s not telling me anything I didn’t already know. But the fact that she’s here . . . that means everything.
“I know.”
“I didn’t want to get used to being with you, because I knew once I did, when you left . . . I’d be miserable. But it’s too late. I was miserable anyway. These last few days . . . I’ve never felt so sad. And lonely. Empty.”
“It’s been the same for me.”
She smiles at that, though there are still tears in her eyes. And in her voice. “But when I’m with you . . . when you’re here next to me . . . it feels perfect. You make me happier than I ever thought I could be, Matthew.”
“Well that’s an easy fix. I’ll just have to stay with you . . . all the time. It won’t be too difficult. Because . . . I’m kind of . . . totally in love with you.”
“You’re an amazing man, Matthew. You’re funny and warm, you’re thoughtful and sexy as all hell. You’re . . . you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Her eyes are soft and tender as she looks into mine. She touches my face gently. “I love you, Matthew.”
Even though it feels like my jaw is going to splinter off at any moment, I smile. It’s impossible not to.
My hand slides to the back of Delores’s neck and I bring her forward. My mouth brushes hers—lightly at first—then deeper, with more meaning. I pull her across me, full into my arms. Our tongues touch and taste, slow and unrushed, with the promise of more to come.
Dee sighs and rests her forehead against mine. “I didn’t imagine telling you I loved you, like this.”
“Me, neither. But . . . it’s something we’ll remember, right? It works for us.”
“It sure f**king does.” Then Dee hops to her feet and holds out her hand to me. “Why are we still here?”
I’m able to get up without her help. But once I’m standing, I remember what brought us to this moment in the first place. “Dee, about Drew and Kate . . .”
She puts her finger over my lips. “No. We’re not talking about them. Ever. You’re not your bastard best friend—I know that. I don’t want him coming between us.”
She’s right. This isn’t about Drew or Kate or Rosaline or any of the douche bags from her past. They shouldn’t affect us—can’t touch us.
This is about me and Dee.
As we make our way out of the ring, I ask, “Did you take a cab here?”
“Yeah—why?”
I grin. “I drove the Ducati.”
Dee’s pleased. “I’ve missed feeling the power between my legs.”
I throw my arm around her shoulders. “Oh, you’ll feel the power—after I get you back to my place.”
Delores loops her arm around my waist and shakes her head. “So cheesy.” Then her voice becomes firmer, more insistent. “But we’re both going to have to wait to feel the power, because before we go home, we’re taking a cab to the emergency room to get you checked out.”
“What? No, I’m fine, really.” I whine like a six year old who doesn’t want to go to the dentist.
Dee shakes her head. “Don’t want to hear it—you’re going. Concussions are nothing to fool around with. I just got you back, I’m not taking any chances on losing you now.”
I open my mouth to argue—because I really am fine—and I’ll be f**king fantastic as soon as I get Dee back in my bed. Or, on my kitchen counter, the dining room table, the living room wall—you get the point.
But before I can disagree, she adds, “Besides, for what I have planned for you? We’re going to need medical clearance.”
Well, when she puts it that way . . .
Our trip to the hospital was relatively short—a little over three hours. After a bunch of questions and a few tests, the doctor diagnosed me with a minor concussion.
Frigging Shawnasee.
Payback is a bitch—and you can bet your ass I’ll be driving that point home the next time I’m at the gym.
The doctor told me to watch out for nausea, blurry vision, blah, blah, blah. At the same time Dee and I asked if sex was okay.
He said it was.
Which is why the moment my apartment door closes, Dee and I are kissing, tearing at clothes, mauling each other—with six days of desire and want driving us on. My clothes are easier to get off than Dee’s, so by the time we step over the threshold of my bedroom, I’m completely naked.
Hard, hot, and thick, I need to be inside her more than I need to take my next f**king breath.
Dee’s shirt? Gone.
Her bra? On the pool table in my dining room.
I touch her, hold her against me—drowning in the sensation of our bare chests pressing and the velvet texture of her perfect skin. My fingers work on the button of her jeans. But Dee stops me. Her hands cover mine and she backs up a step. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she tries to catch her breath. “Matthew . . . there’s something I have to tell you. I . . . did something. Last night.”