Dax

by Sawyer Bennett

  Regan’s hands shake slightly as she opens the square flat box, then peers at the necklace I bought her. She places a fingertip on the edge of the chain, following its path gently to the pendant.

  “Oh, Dax,” she breathes out as her eyes lift to meet mine. “It’s so very beautiful.”

  Taking the box from her, I gallantly offer, “Let me put it on you.”

  Smiling, Regan lifts her hair up in a big pile as she turns to expose her neck to me. I manage to work the clasp of the necklace and get it on with little fuss. She spins to face me, lifting the diamond drop pendant up to examine it. “It’s perfect.”

  “No, you’re perfect,” I say.

  She grins then, a slight sparkle of mischief in her gaze. “I got you something, too.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Her lids droop slightly, her smile turning coy. “I’m wearing it. Under my dress. You’ll have to wait until later to see it.”

  Jesus.

  Instantly, my cock jumps to attention, wondering exactly what she has on under that dress. Regan isn’t into a lot of fancy, sexy lingerie, but I’d like to change that one day. The fact she’s gone out and bought something designed to drive me crazy makes me want to say to hell with dinner reservations. I know exactly what I want to dine on, and it’s standing right in front of me.

  Instead, I man the fuck up and mentally tell my dick to get itself under control. Leaning into her, I press a soft kiss on her mouth. “I cannot wait to unwrap my present,” I promise, loving the slight shiver that takes hold of her body. “But first… dinner. You ready to go?”

  “I’m coming again,” Regan moans as her fingernails dig into my shoulders.

  Those are the best fucking words in the world. It’s number three for her tonight.

  I am not going to last much longer. I’m on the edge as it is. We are face to face, pelvis to pelvis, torso to torso. My hips drive into her in long, luxurious thrusts. I have never fucked—made love—this slowly and deliberately before. It’s been the best thing I’ve ever felt. I’ve never been more connected to another human being in my life.

  Regan’s fingers twine within my hair, and she puts her lips near my ear. “I want you to come, Dax. Inside me.”

  She’s never urged me along before, and I find myself helpless to ignore her request. I drive in one more time, rest my cheek against hers, and unload a monstrous orgasm inside of her with a long groan of relief.

  “Yes, baby,” she murmurs, reveling in my pleasure.

  When I come down from my high, Regan has already drifted off into a semi-sleep. I roll to the side, my spent cock slipping out of her, then gather her closely to my body.

  “Sleepy,” she murmurs, then lets out a huff of air against my chest that tells me she’s fallen straight to sleep.

  This is a good thing.

  The way I’m feeling right now—the overwhelming strength of the emotions I have coursing through me right in this moment—I was probably going to say something to her that I’m not quite sure I’m ready to admit.

  That is, I am fairly sure I have fallen helplessly in love with my best friend’s little sister. It sounds overly clichéd, yet incredibly right. I can only conclude that I have loved her in some form or fashion her entire life, and that has led to the development of a different—deeper—type of love. I don’t want Regan to be my wife in name only. I don’t want her to be with me for my insurance benefits. I want her to be by my side for the rest of my life. I want to have children with her. I want to fuck her morning, noon, and night—in a perfect world, of course.

  I simply want Regan in every conceivable way a man could want a woman… and I want her to want me in return.

  Which is why it’s good she fell asleep. I’m fairly confident in my feelings for her, but I honestly have no clue how she feels about me. I know there has to be some level of distrust given that first time we were intimate together. When I’d gotten scared, gotten even more stupid, and then called the relationship over before it ever got started.

  Yes, I know Regan has to doubt me in more ways than one.

  Which means I’m just going to have to work harder to get her to trust me—to believe I’m going to always do right by her.

  And along the way, if I can get her to admit she loves me in return, things will be just fine.

  CHAPTER 27

  Regan

  My fingers trail along the line of dresses hanging from the metal rack. Spring is just around the corner, so they are all in pastel colors. Willow is a few paces ahead of me, eyeballing blouses that are on sale.

  I approach her, then start flipping through the rack. “I’m really glad you came back to visit us before you head off to Kosovo.”

  She shoots me a glance before holding up an olive-colored shirt for inspection. “Me too. I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine,” I drawl, picking up a rust-colored T-shirt with golden bumblebees embroidered into it. Too cutesy for me, so I put it back. “And please find a different color. You wear too much khaki, brown, and olive to begin with.”

  Willow re-racks the T-shirt with a tiny shrug of indifference before pinning me with a direct glare. “You’re fine, huh? Then why have you been coughing all morning?”

  We start meandering along the department store’s aisles, lazily looking at items we have no intention of buying. Neither one of us have bought a thing all morning. We are just enjoying being out and chatting.

  “I just have a cold,” I explain. “Your brother gave it to me.”

  Willow slips her arm through mine, then gives me a little squeeze. “That’s what you get for sucking face.”

  My head snaps toward her, and she grins.

  I’ve been sucking more than that, but I will keep that to myself. I return her smile but ruin it with a short coughing fit. It’s pretty deep and hacking. We halt our progress until I can clear my throat, but I’m left panting as I try to get air in my lungs.

  “That sounds really bad.” Willow’s face is awash with concern.

  I suck in a deep lungful of air, but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough for some reason. I let it out slowly. “Honestly, it’s been this way for a few days. Doesn’t seem to be getting any worse, but it’s definitely not getting any better. I forgot to take cough syrup today, though. That’s all.”

  Willow gives me a critical once over, as if she doesn’t trust what I’m saying.

  “I’m fine,” I promise, then loop my arm through hers, urging her to walk forward again.

  “So how are things going with Dax?”

  I duck my head, trying to hide a smile as I study the shiny tile floor. Perhaps I hesitate too long because Willow stops and pivots toward me. I’m forced to raise my head to find her grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  “Oh, things are going very well,” she drawls. The tone of her voice is slightly taunting, but in a fun way. “I can see by that expression on your face.”

  I could deny it. I could downplay it. Wipe my face blank.

  But why should I? Willow is my friend. My sister-in-law as well.

  So, I choose honesty. “Things are going well. Too well, actually. So well, I doubt it’s real. This wasn’t supposed to be anything more than sex.”

  Willow laughs as we start walking again, heading toward the shoe section. “Nothing is ever really just sex, Regan. There’s always something more. But that’s a good thing for you and Dax, I’m thinking.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but another coughing fit hits me. This time, it doesn’t last very long, but I’m left almost gasping for breath at the end. Before Willow can say anything about me being sick, I say, “Anything more than sex is too complicated right now.”

  “No way,” she tells me. She waves her hand up and down, indicating my entire self. “You practically glow when I talk to you about my brother. You’ve got it bad for him. It’s more than just sex for sure, and that’s a complication you should relish in.”

  I turn to pick up a pair of taupe-colored sandals. They have littl
e leather daisies running along the strap that goes around the ankle. They’re adorable, and I don’t want to talk about Dax anymore.

  I don’t want to talk about him because it makes me hope for too much. These last few days—really since Valentine’s Day—I’ve started to think he might be developing deeper feelings for me that go beyond our initial friendship as well as beyond the bedroom. But then I start doubting myself because it seems way too good to be true.

  Dax is way too good to be true.

  “Cute shoes,” Willow says. “And you ignored my last question, so I am guessing Dax is off topic for now.”

  “For now,” I agree. I put the shoes back on the stand, and we start meandering again. “So let’s talk about you. Are you going to hook up with your big-dicked photographer friend?”

  Willow shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

  She then spies a pair of strappy high-heeled sandals in a pearly champagne color and nabs them. She holds them out toward me. “These would look fantastic on you. I bet Dax would find them incredibly sexy.”

  I hold back a chuckle since I know it will instigate my cough. Shaking my head, I smile. “When I win the lottery, I’ll buy them. But right now, I’m pinching pennies. Until I finish my master’s degree and can work full time, I don’t have room for luxuries like that.”

  Although I will have to say I didn’t mind digging into my meager savings account to buy the lingerie I wore for Valentine’s Day. Dax went crazy when he saw it. For the first time in our sexual relationship, I felt a measure of power over him. It had felt nice, but I also like that it was short-lived. Truth be told, it’s better when Dax holds the reins.

  And I realize Willow has effectively turned the direction of the conversation back to Dax and me. Sneaky woman.

  I feel compelled to turn it around on her. “I think you should hook back up with the guy with the big dick. Will he be in Kosovo?”

  Willow just shrugs as she picks up a hideous pair of purple pumps. She holds them up for my inspection, and I shake my head while wrinkling my nose.

  “They are pretty ugly,” she mutters as she puts the shoes back.

  “Could it be you’re interested in someone else?” I ask, and her eyes flick to mine for a moment before turning away guiltily.

  Willow refuses to look at me, seemingly intent on another pair of shoes, but asks innocently enough, “Who would I be interested in?”

  “Dominik Carlson, of course.”

  Willow looks at me blankly. We engage in a standoff, our eyes locked on each other. She doesn’t so much as blink, even lifting her chin a bit in defiance.

  “Oh, come on,” I blurt out to break the silence, ignoring the tickle in my throat telling me another cough is brewing. “That get-together in Detroit… it’s obvious he’s interested in you. And you were playing it all cool, and I thought maybe a little too hard to get. You really—”

  Willow cuts me off snappishly. “I am too hard to get because I don’t want him to get me.”

  “Why? You had a great time with him. It was unparalleled sex from what I remember you saying. I don’t believe for a second—”

  “We’re not compatible,” Willow says gently, the soft tone cutting over my tirade and stopping me in place. I can’t even think to come back with a good argument.

  All I can ask is, “Why not? The sex is great. Isn’t that enough?”

  “It was great, but—”

  Willow’s words are drowned out as another coughing fit overcomes me. It feels like razor blades are shredding my lungs. Disgustingly, I bring up a huge glob of phlegm I’m forced to swallow down again.

  And then…. a wave of dizziness hits me. I reach out, pressing my palm onto a table that holds several shoe displays. Closing my eyes, I try to get my bearings.

  “Are you okay, Regan?” It’s Willow’s voice, but it sounds like it’s coming through a tunnel. But then it seems to get louder and clearer. “Regan… look at me.”

  Slowly, I flutter my eyes open, Willow coming into immediate focus. The dizziness is gone. “Yeah… I’m fine. Maybe the cold has just gone into my head.”

  “You look a little pale,” she says with worry. “Why don’t we leave?”

  My initial instinct is to deny I’m sick and insist we keep shopping, but I suddenly feel exhausted. I’m also dying of thirst.

  “Yeah,” I say as I hook my arm through Willow’s once more. This isn’t a sign of camaraderie. Rather, I want to use her for balance in case I get dizzy again. “I think I could actually use a nap before we leave for the game tonight.”

  Willow stops dead in her tracks, turning to me with both hands gripping my shoulders. Her eyes are swimming with worry. “Regan, there’s no home game tonight. It’s away. Dax is in Dallas, don’t you remember?”

  Dax is in Dallas?

  Dax is in Dallas. He left this morning. I remember now.

  Fear strikes in the pit of my stomach.

  I smile sheepishly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Oh yeah… that’s right. I’m sorry. I think I might be a little dehydrated. Maybe we could stop and get me a bottle of water somewhere?”

  Willow stares at me a moment, the concerned expression on her face not budging an inch. Finally, she gives me a slow nod and ushers me toward the exit of the department store. Our arms are once again linked, and I can feel her holding me steady. As we get nearer to the entrance, another wave of dizziness hits me. “Willow.”

  My legs seem to turn to Jell-O, and I start to sag. Luckily, there is a bench just a few feet away with an old man sitting on it. He has several bags at his feet. I’m guessing he’s waiting for his wife who must be on a shopping spree.

  Willow leads me over to it, and I sit next to him. Raising my eyes to hers, I swallow hard. “I think I need to go to the hospital.”

  Willows voice quavers with fear. “Is this something more than a cold?”

  I know exactly what she’s asking me. And it’s not something I had actually considered until that moment of confusion about Dax’s game. I nod, fairly sure I’m in a hemolytic crisis. My blood cells are being destroyed faster than they can be made. They’re necessary to carry oxygen throughout my body. I’ve been in this situation before, and I recognize it.

  I give a slow nod, speaking past the dryness in my mouth. “I think so.”

  “Do you want me to go get my car?”

  I shake my head, my gut instinct telling me that’s a bad idea. “I think you need to call an ambulance.”

  “Shit,” Willow mutters, then whips out her phone. Before she can even attempt to unlock it, I reach out and touch her elbow. “Don’t call Dax. He’s got a game tonight, and I don’t want him to worry.”

  “I’m calling 9-1-1.”

  “I know that,” I say with a wan smile. “I’m saying after… don’t call Dax.”

  Willow gives me an exasperated grimace. “He will kill me if I don’t let him know what’s going on.”

  I know there’s an important point I should make to her, but between the dizziness and fatigue, it’s a little hazy. I shake my head. My words are so weak sounding. “He can’t do anything. He’ll only worry.”

  Willow’s words are clear… I think. I sort of understand what she’s saying. But I’m not sure I really care as I begin to feel very, very tired.

  “Dax is a big boy,” she replies briskly as she unlocks her phone. “He’ll just have to worry. That’s life. And it’s not fair to keep this from him either.”

  I give a wan wave of my hand to indicate I have no energy to argue with her. Right now, I have to depend on Willow to get me to the hospital.

  I sink onto the bench, watching as Willow calls 9-1-1.

  CHAPTER 28

  Dax

  “Can you go any faster?” I growl at my Uber driver from the backseat.

  “We’re almost there,” he tells me reassuringly. Even though I can see he’s already going fifteen miles over the speed limit, it’s still not fast enough for me. “Just one more block.”


  I do see the hospital up ahead. Oddly, my anxiety increases the closer we get.

  Willow told me Regan was stable and resting well. She’s told me that several times in fact, via text as well as several phone calls over the last twenty-four hours.

  There is nothing worse than being several hours away from someone I care about who is ill. In Regan’s case, her illness can lead to death. I have never felt more wretched, out-of-control, and terrified in my entire life than when Willow called me yesterday to tell me that Regan was being taken to the hospital by ambulance.

  There was so little information. I really had no clue what was going on. She said Regan was coughing a lot, then got incredibly dizzy and confused while they were out shopping.

  I’d known Regan had a cold. I’m pretty sure I gave it to her. Whereas mine never amounted to much more than a minor sore throat as well as a few days of a light cough, Regan’s seemed to come on strong and hold steady.

  And yet, I wasn’t worried when I left her yesterday to get on the team plane to head to Dallas for an away game.

  It was a cold. That has nothing to do with her blood disease. Besides, she was getting her treatment, and she was stable enough for me to travel away from her with no worries.

  It’s why I cannot wrap my head around what Willow told me yesterday. All I know is things are serious when she had to take an ambulance ride to the hospital.

  When I hung up the phone, I immediately told Bishop what was going on and informed him of my need to get back to Phoenix. Thus ensued a ten-minute argument where he tried to talk me out of leaving. There were a lot of F-bombs dropped, mostly by me.

  Eventually, he got me to at least agree on waiting until Regan could be evaluated in the emergency room to determine how bad things were. He pointed out she could merely be dizzy from dehydration from a bad cold.

  That I could not assume the worst.

  So I agreed to wait. I’d stewed and fretted. And I called Willow about every ten minutes, who kept telling me that they were still going through the emergency room process.