Wicked Dix (Hard Love Romance #2)

by Monica James

  “There’s a first time for everything,” I reply without thinking, as my comment might make her feel uncomfortable.

  But when her cheeks flush and she nervously tugs at her bracelets, I know it’s had the opposite effect. “I can’t wait.”

  I stifle my desperate growl and slip my fingers through hers as we make our way through the security checkpoints.

  We have a little while before our flight leaves, so we decide to chill out and sit in the lounge. As I scroll through my emails, I can feel Madison watching me closely. I unhurriedly look up from my screen and catch her staring at me openly. Usually she would look away, embarrassed to be caught out, but this time she doesn’t.

  I match her stare, wondering what she’s thinking. She makes her thoughts clear when she slowly stands and walks over to me. Without a word, she perches on my lap, wraps her arms around my neck and rests her ear against my chest. The gesture is so trusting, I can’t help but smile.

  “Thank you, Dixon,” she whispers.

  “You’re welcome. Happy birthday, Madison,” I reply, cocooning her into my arms.

  When her breathing becomes deeper and heavier, I wonder what’s wrong. “Best birthday present ever,” she finally says. “I love…it.”

  I don’t reply or make a big deal about it. I simply hold her tighter than I ever have before because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was going to say something crazy like…I love you.

  18

  Breathe

  MADISON

  “Wow,” I gasp for the hundredth time as I look at the magical, moonlit scenery in front of me.

  I know it’s not exactly poetic, but it’s all I can muster because I am literally speechless. And that’s probably not a bad thing, considering I almost told Dixon I loved him. I was so wrapped up in the moment, and it was nearly out before I could stop myself. I’m certain he knew what I meant to say but, funnily enough, I don’t care.

  Bringing me here to Rome for my birthday is kind of a big deal. I mean, I’ve only ever traveled as far as Boston. But here I am, sitting in a fancy Mercedes in Rome, faced with yet another surprise.

  We’ve ventured out of the city and are traveling further and further into the countryside. I’ve had to sit on my hands to stop my fidgeting because I am so damn excited. Ten whole days with just Dixon, in Rome—it’s a dream come true.

  My eyes widen when I see where we’re headed. “We’re staying here?” I ask, lunging forward to look out the windshield.

  “Maybe,” is Dixon’s vague response. He’s so enjoying watching me explode in anticipation.

  The gravel driveway takes us up to a beautiful two-story terracotta home set on a hillside. When Dixon turns off the car, I spin around to look at him. “Our own private villa? You’ve got to be shitting me!”

  “Welcome home, honey,” he says with a dimpled grin.

  I can’t stop my feet as I wrench open the door and dash up the steps of the house. It’s simply enchanting. The rustic building is surrounded by olive tree groves and beautiful views of the surrounding hills. The air out here is so fresh and clear, I can’t help but take in a big lungful. As I turn in a circle, I see that there is absolutely no one around us. We have this entire paradise to ourselves.

  “So it’s safe to assume you like it?” Dixon asks over my shoulder.

  Without tearing my eyes away from the serene sight in front of me, I nod. “You assume correctly, Dr. Mathews. Thank you. This is perfect.”

  Turning around, I thank him the only way I can. I catch him completely off-guard when I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him passionately. It only takes a second or two before he catches up.

  Something is changing in me. I can feel it. Every time I kiss or touch Dixon, a small piece of my past slips away, and before long, I think it’ll disappear. It’ll no longer rule me because I am no longer afraid. And that’s thanks to the man I’m falling deeper and deeper in love with.

  I put all my love and affection into my actions, kissing him tenderly and tugging at the strands of hair curling at his nape. He returns the response by matching me kiss for kiss. Before long, I can’t keep up and allow him total control. He dominates my mouth and body, leaving me panting and desperately clinging on tight as I can’t get enough. The constant burn gets stronger and more painful, and I know the only thing that’ll douse those flames is him.

  When Dixon slows down and steadily pulls away, I know he feels it too. “We better get inside. It’s getting late,” he says, his beautiful eyes appearing translucent under the bright moonlight.

  I nod, not trusting my voice.

  We gather our luggage and make our way up the concrete stairs to the front door. The moment I step foot inside, the reality of where I am and who I’m with sinks in and tears sting my eyes. I can’t ever remember being this happy.

  As the door closes shut behind me, I quickly wipe my eyes, not wanting Dixon to see me cry. “Wow.”

  Dixon chuckles and gently brushes past me as I continue gaping around in awe. The rural feel continues inside, where the walls are painted in a dark beige and the roof is supported by long wooden beams. As I step through the archway and into the spacious living room, I see an antique-looking chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. It complements the lavish, oriental rug beautifully. The plush, cream furniture looks suitable for royalty, and I resist the urge to see if it feels as silky as it looks.

  I’m lost in the beauty of my surroundings and don’t hear Dixon’s entrance until he wraps his arms around my waist and whispers, “I’ve put your bags upstairs.”

  I’m barely able to contain my shiver. “And what about your bags?”

  “They’re sitting upstairs next to yours. Is that okay? There’s a guest bedroom if you—”

  I quickly cut him off. “You’re not staying in the guest bedroom. Of course it’s okay.”

  He kisses the side of my neck. “Good, because I was actually going to suggest you could stay in the guest bedroom.” I burst out laughing. “Would you like some wine? It’s from a local vineyard.”

  “Sure, that’ll be nice.” Realizing I’m still in my work clothes, I say, “I might take a shower.”

  “Of course. I’ll bring it upstairs. We can sit on the balcony for a while if you like.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” I turn around and kiss him quickly before dashing up the carpeted stairs.

  I try not to gape at the stunning artworks strewn along the walls for too long, and find the main bedroom is the last room on the left. The moment I open the door, a swarm of butterflies take flight in my belly. The room, which is decorated in shades of brown, beige, and champagne, seems designed to highlight the Victorian-style four-poster bed. A gorgeous gold canopy drapes down over the dark wooden posts, shrouding the bed in elegant luxury.

  I ignore my sudden nerves and sit on the floor to hunt through my suitcase. Unzipping my bag, I pull out my toiletries and reach for my flannel pajamas. However, as I look up at the majestic bed, I boldly run my fingers over my satin slip instead.

  I’ve never owned anything like this before, but when Dixon said he was taking me away for my birthday, I used the Victoria’s Secret gift card my mom gave me and splurged. The butterflies unexpectedly return, but I don’t know why. I’ve slept beside Dixon countless times before, but for some reason, this feels different.

  As I sneak another quick peek at the humongous bed in front of me, I know the reason why. Being here, away from everyone and everything, has left me feeling like a normal woman on vacation with her normal boyfriend. All my troubles and worries have somehow been left in New York, and I feel like I can finally breathe. With that thought in mind, I gather my toiletries and new slip, and make my way into the extravagant en suite.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m showered and feeling incredibly relaxed after my scalding shower. Now that I’ve somewhat got over my shock of being here in Rome, I realize it’s peaking on dawn. Sadly, my exhausted body is still functioning on New York time and I’m
ready for bed.

  Determined to stay awake for at least one glass of wine, I run my fingers through my hair and make my way into the bedroom. The wooden double balcony doors are open, suggesting that Dixon is outside. I wander out in bare feet, the cool stone floor feeling divine under my warmed skin.

  Dixon is lounging on a seat, appearing deep in thought as he looks out into the vast openness. The sky has a light pink hue, but the darkness still governs the heavens.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself,” he replies, not turning around.

  A half bottle of wine and a glass sits on the small circular table, so I reach for the goblet and take a seat next to Dixon. As I peer over the solid stone balcony I gasp, as the crest of dawn is on the horizon, spreading a sheet of warm radiance over the picture-perfect landscape.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I say, unable to hide my awe.

  “It is.” When he slowly turns to look at me, his sultry gaze scans down my body. “However, I’ve just seen something more beautiful.”

  “Th-thank you.” I’m always so nervous when he looks at me this way. I can barely breathe. His lopsided smirk reveals he knows it, too.

  “Are you tired?”

  “A little,” I confess. “I might call it a night, or morning soon. How about you?”

  He gazes out over the balcony. “I think I might stay up and watch the sunrise. It’s not too far off.” His calming, gentle tone has me stifling an unexpected yawn behind my hand. “Go to bed. I won’t be too far behind.”

  Looking down at my untouched wine, I know if I take one sip of the fruity nectar, I’ll be out for the count in seconds. “Okay.” I stand and stretch, taking one last look at the spectacular countryside before me.

  Dixon glances up and rewards me with a soft smile. “Goodnight, angelo.”

  Just like it does every time he uses that pet name for me, my entire body melts and I have to smother my moan. He doesn’t realize how much it means to me because this term of endearment erases out any others, others that I never wanted.

  With that thought in mind, I place my glass on the table and surprise Dixon as I lower myself into his lap. He opens his arms and I nestle low, turning my head to look at the sight in front of us. “I think I’d like to watch the sunrise, too.” He tightens his arms around me, but doesn’t say a word. We’re both silent, neither of us needing to speak.

  As my eyes slip shut, I can’t help but think that this right here, right now, is everything I could ever wish for and more.

  19

  The New Me

  MADISON

  I wake to the smell of coffee.

  My foggy brain plays catch-up and as I feel the satin sheets underneath my fingertips, I realize I’m cocooned in our glorious bed. I don’t remember getting here, and that’s because I was sound asleep when Dixon put me in here. I recall seeing about five seconds of the sun mounting over the hills, but then I’m pretty sure I blacked out and was out like a light.

  Looking at the bedside clock beside me, I see that it’s almost 1 p.m. As I stretch out my lax muscles, I decide to go in search of that delightful smell. I slip on my robe and attempt to tame my snarled hair, but I give up when another smell, one of a sugary, syrupy sweetness kind, wafts up the stairs. I practically leap down them and run into the kitchen, not bothering to hide my excitement.

  However, I stop dead in my tracks when I’m confronted with Dixon’s muscled bare back as he flips pancakes on the stove top. His blue jeans sit low on his narrow waist, revealing two perfect butt dimples sitting above his firm ass. As he turns to the side to reach for a plate, the sunlight streaming in from the window highlights his tattoo. He really is a sight for sore eyes.

  “Good morning,” he says, not bothering to turn around.

  I jolt, his husky voice snapping me from my very depraved thoughts. My heavy breathing must have given me away. Clearing my throat, I walk over to the kitchen counter and take a seat. “Morning.”

  He throws me a wink over his shoulder. “I hope you’re hungry because I’ve made enough food to feed a small starving nation.”

  Giggling, I sit up tall to look over his shoulder. He’s right. The enormous stack of pancakes sitting on the counter beside him resembles the Leaning Tower of Pisa. “One can never have too many pancakes,” I say, wanting to show my appreciation.

  He laughs and serves us up a small feast while I look at every topping, filling, and condiment sitting in front of me. Reaching for the syrup and berries, I lick my lips when Dixon places my breakfast in front of me. I tuck my hair behind my ears as I lean forward and take a big sniff. It smells…interesting.

  “I hope it tastes okay.” I look up to see him watching me nervously.

  “It’ll taste amazing,” I confirm, pouring a decent helping of syrup over my mountain of food.

  Dixon pours us a cup of coffee while I scatter some mixed berries onto my plate. Reaching for my silverware, I cut into the gluey, uncooked dough and try not to giggle when it sticks to my fork. As I take a bite, I try not to blanch because Dixon is gauging my response closely.

  “It’s bad, right?” he says, placing the cup of coffee in front of me.

  “No, it’s great,” I lie around a mouthful of food. I eye the coffee, very tempted to pour it over my meal to balance out the sweetness. When I take another bite, I fear my teeth might disintegrate in my mouth. “Yum.”

  “Okay, stop.” Dixon grins and swipes my plate out from under me.

  “Hey, don’t. It’s good.” I attempt to snatch it back, but he draws it away from me and steals my fork.

  As he cuts into it and takes a bite, I quickly reach for my black coffee and gulp it down, not caring that it burns my throat. I watch with amusement over the rim of my cup as he pulls a sickened face and grips onto the edge of the counter.

  “Don’t they taste yummy?” I ask, nodding in encouragement.

  Dixon looks at me like I’ve gone crazy. “I’m pretty certain I just became a diabetic,” he replies, scraping the contents of my plate into the trash.

  I watch, trying not to laugh, but I can’t help but smirk. It’s so incredibly sweet he attempted to make me breakfast when it’s apparent he’s probably never made pancakes before.

  “They weren’t that bad,” I counter, defending his efforts. He halts from trashing the rest of his pancakes and turns to me, raising an eyebrow in complete dispute.

  “Okay, they were a little sweet, but I loved that you tried…”

  “To put you in a sugary coma?” he finishes for me. I bite my lip to contain my chuckles. “How about we get dressed and go out for some real food?”

  I nod, my stomach grumbling in agreement. “What are we doing today? Besides eating?”

  He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “I thought we could take a drive. I have a few things planned over the next few days, so I don’t want to wear you out too quickly.” As soon as the words leave his lips, he appears to regret using that particular phrase. I noticed he wore the same look at the airport. But what he doesn’t realize is that I don’t mind.

  Standing up, I finish my coffee and rinse my cup off in the sink. Dixon sneaks up behind me and wraps his hands around my waist. “You want to take a shower first?”

  I nod and lean backwards into his embrace. “I won’t be too long.” However, when he tightens his grip around me and lays a soft kiss over my shoulder, all thoughts of showering are gone.

  Dixon reads my surrender and continues his kisses along the slope of my neck. I tilt my head to the side, allowing him complete access to my heated skin. When he takes my earlobe into his mouth, I whimper and feel my knees buckle beneath me. He slides a hand up my torso, only coming to a stop when he cups my left breast. I can’t help the tremor that passes through me.

  “You better go take that shower,” he says, his fingers squeezing and fondling me. “Otherwise, you’re about to get very dirty.”

  “Cleanliness is overrated,” I breathlessly reply, my heart pounding faster and fast
er.

  Dixon spins me around and smashes his lips to mine. He fists my hair and holds me captive as he devours my mouth whole. We kiss like we’re starved—not for food, but rather, for each other. I get lost in the feel of his mouth and the hungry strokes of his tongue, and before long, I’m reaching between us to rub over the hard bulge pressing against me. He moans into my mouth, his erection getting harder and harder.

  I want him like I’ve never wanted him before. So with quick fingers, I unsnap the top button of his jeans and drive my hand down his pants. We both grunt when I make contact with his flesh. He pumps his hips forward, encouraging me to move, so I do.

  I remember him detailing what he likes, and I follow those precise instructions as I grip him in a firm hold and begin stroking up and down his hardened length. He throws his head back, small, aroused growls coming from his parted lips. His approval urges me on and I increase the speed of my hand.

  Having the power in my palm, literally, is a heady feeling and my hormones suddenly take over as I drop to my knees and yank down his pants in one fluid motion. When I’m greeted with his arousal, I lick my lips, hardly believing how desperately I want to go down on him. How desperately I want to feel him inside of me.

  Just as I’m about to take my first taste, I hear the front door open and a female voice calling out to us. “Ciao. C'è qualcuno in casa? Sono la cameriera.”

  I shriek and jump up, mortified that whoever this is will walk in and find me on my knees about to go down on my very naked boyfriend.

  “Sarò fuori in un minuto. Attendere prego,” Dixon shouts, quickly tucking himself into his jeans.

  “Who is it?” I whisper, running to hide behind him.

  He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s housekeeping.”

  “Housekeeping? We don’t need housekeeping,” I state softly, still hiding.

  “I know. I told the realtor that. Sorry, Madison.” He turns around to look at me and brushes his knuckle across my cheek. “I’ll get rid of her because her timing completely blows.”