by Monica James
I slip around to his front and cheekily whisper, “Unlike you.”
He looks like he’s about to choke on my sexually fueled comment. I don’t know where this show of confidence has come from, but I like it. He’s still staring at me like I have two heads when I say, “I’ll go take a shower then.”
He simply nods while I slip past him, loving the new me.
* * *
After a day of sightseeing around Tivoli, Dixon has taken me to a little restaurant in the hills. The venue is very intimate, and the small candles burning brightly on the tabletops and sweet Italian melody playing over the speakers add to the cozy vibe.
We’re about forty-five minutes out of Rome, which I quite like. We’re close enough to do all the touristy things, but far enough away that we aren’t swarmed by sightseers.
“So is there anything special you wanted to do for your birthday?” Dixon asks as he pours me a glass of wine.
“No. Being here with you is special enough,” I reply sincerely. He nods, his smile revealing he’s as happy as I feel.
Looking over the menu, I try to decode what it all means. “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” I finally decide, as I can’t read a lick of Italian.
Dixon laughs and passes me my wine. The moment I take a sip, my cheeks heat and the alcohol goes straight to my head. “Wow, that’s strong.”
“It’s locally made. I guess the farmers don’t really worry about the alcohol content,” he teases, reading over the label.
A pretty brunette waitress saunters over to our table to take our order. The moment her eyes land on Dixon, a surge of jealousy passes over me. She doesn’t bother to conceal her blatant flirting when she bats her eyelashes and smiles. “Buonasera. Sono Julia. Avete bisogno di aiuto con il menu?”
I have no idea what she just said, but I hate her regardless.
“Hello, Julia. I think we’re ready to order,” Dixon replies, thankfully in English.
But Julia gives him a cutesy, sheepish smile and shakes her head. “Io non parla inglese, signore.”
Dixon looks at me and pulls an apologetic face. “She doesn’t speak English,” he explains. How convenient. But I nod, waving off his apology.
He switches to Italian and orders our meal. I only know this because Julia writes down whatever he’s saying on her notepad. Once she’s done, she reaches for our menus, her eyes never wavering from Dixon. Just when I think we’re Julia-free, she strikes up a conversation with him, speaking a million miles a minute. Dixon laughs at something she says, while she uses her hands to explain God knows whatever they’re talking about. I suddenly feel like the third, uneducated wheel.
Reaching for my wine, I take a big sip, needing to do something with my hands and throat before I yell at Julia to stop looking at my boyfriend, while strangling her with her long beautiful hair. Dixon picks up on my jealousy and thankfully wraps up the conversation quickly.
Julia gives him a playful wink before heading off to the kitchen. When Dixon smirks smugly at me from across the small table, I ignore him and continue gulping down my wine. I refuse to allow that Italian beauty to spoil our night.
“So what did you order?” I ask, needing to fill the silence.
“I was going to order the chicken, but Julia suggested we try the fish as it’s their specialty.”
“Did she now?” It’s out before I can stop myself, and that smug smirk returns to Dixon’s face.
“It does sound delicious,” he replies, leaning back in his seat, watching me closely.
“I hate fish,” I childishly reply, which is a total lie and Dixon knows it.
“Since when?”
“Since Julia suggested it.” I slap my hand over my mouth, mortified that I said my thoughts out loud.
Dixon rocks back in his chair, his mouth tipped up in a permanent grin. “Are you…jealous?” he asks, pausing for effect.
I scoff, but I can’t deny that I am. I hate that he seems to be the object of every woman’s affection because he’s mine. It seems his hotness knows no international boundaries because, wherever we go, he’s got a line of willing females lagging behind. That thought has me reaching for the bottle and filling up my empty glass.
“How about you wait until you’ve had something to eat?” Dixon suggests, still watching me carefully. I ignore his request and take a big sip. The room is spinning by the time I place the half-empty glass back on the table.
This is not like me. I’ve never ever been jealous over anyone or anything before. But as I see Julia wiggle her butt as she walks past our table, that wave of jealousy washes over me once again. I don’t know whether it’s the wine, or as the saying goes, “when in Rome,” but words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. “How many women have you slept with?”
Dixon chokes on his wine in response.
Probably not the best place to ask such a question, but now that I’ve said it, I want to know. I fold my arms across my chest, waiting and watching. Dixon looks to the table to his left, giving them a polite smile as he wipes down his stained shirt.
“You really want to do this here?” he asks, circling his finger around the room.
“Sure, why not? No one will understand, seeing as no one speaks English.” The corner of Dixon’s mouth tugs.
“Why do you want to know?”
“I’m just curious. So, how many?” I press, leaning in close. He shrugs and for the first time in forever, I think I’ve caught Dr. Mathews off-guard. “Like ten?” I ask, starting the count. He drums his fingers on the tabletop, avoiding all possible eye contact. His action just fuels my curiosity. “Twenty?”
“Madison, let’s change the subject.” He goes to reach for my hand, but I pull it away.
“No. I like this subject. Fifty?” When he uneasily reaches for his wine, I know I’m not even close. “Holy shit. What, you’re telling me it’s over fifty?”
Silence.
“Oh my God, a…hundred? Dixon, are you telling me you’ve slept with over one hundred women?”
He takes a big breath, before fixing me with his intense stare. “Maddy, I don’t know the number because…I’ve lost count.”
My mouth pops open because I know he’s telling me the truth. Wow. I don’t even know how to react. I can count all my partners on one hand, well, no hands, because the total amount is zero. What happened with Dylan doesn’t count because he…it was…I quickly reach for my wine and down the entire glass.
I can’t believe he’s lost count. I mean, I get that some men are more promiscuous than some women, but holy shit, over one hundred partners equates to…I gulp. I don’t even want to know how many that totals a month, or worse still, a week. I’m certain he was faithful when engaged to Lily, so are these one hundred partners before or after her? I have nothing to offer him sexually because he’s seen it all before.
That thought doesn’t help my unsettled stomach, and I suddenly feel like I’m going to be sick. Covering my mouth, I shoot up and make a mad dash for the front door, which is closer than the bathroom out back. Once outside, I round the corner and brace my hands on my knees as I bend over. The cool air is exactly what I need and after three calming breaths, I swallow down my nausea.
“Madison?”
Dixon’s concerned, panicked voice alerts me to how embarrassed I am. And also, what an idiot I’ve been. I’ve turned a lovely evening into a disaster because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. What is the matter with me?
“Go away, Dixon. I’m fine.” I wave him off blindly.
“Like hell you are.” He walks over and gently runs a hand down my back. “Are you all right? I’m so sorry if I upset you. I’m an asshole. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He’s the one who’s apologizing? Is he serious? I’m the one who should be apologizing for my stupid behavior. “Dixon, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Maddy, please stand up. Look at me.”
I don’t wa
nt to look at him, but I feel lightheaded, so I gradually stand tall and turn around. I keep my eyes glued to the floor, but Dixon coaxes me to look at him as he places two fingers under my chin. His tender eyes reveal nothing but care.
“There is nothing wrong with you.”
“I highly doubt that. Why can’t I just be normal?” I attempt to avert my gaze, but Dixon gently seizes my jaw.
“Don’t get hung up on what’s normal and what’s not. You’re you, Madison. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Then why can’t I have a regular conversation about…sex?” I ask, needing the doctor in him to tell me I’m not a complete freak.
“Do you want to know what I think?”
I nod.
He strokes over my jaw line, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. “I think that it’s because you’re normal that you can’t talk about sex freely.”
“That makes no sense,” I reply, sighing.
“Madison, with what happened to you, no one expects you to be comfortable talking about something you’re only just coming to grips with. It’s going to take some time. And that’s normal. That’s what living is all about. So stop beating yourself up over it, okay?” He levels my eyes with his. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I softly reply.
His heartfelt speech has me wanting to clarify something I’m quite certain he already knows, but I want to make clear anyway. “I don’t care how many women you’ve been with.” When he goes to speak, I press my finger over his lips. “I don’t care because we can’t take back our past. We can only move forward, and I want to move forward…with you.”
Taking a deep breath, I go on. “As you know, I’m not very experienced at sex. I’m sorry.” The moonlight reflects the pools of sadness in his eyes. “That night, with Dylan. He…r-raped me, but he didn’t…not there.” I’m falling over my words, but I press on. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m still a virgin.”
When he stares at me wordlessly, I’m hoping he understands what I’m trying to say. But my customary feelings of shame overwhelm me, and I instantly regret my decision to share. “I’m sorry. I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear. I understand if you need some time…” But the air whooshes from my lungs when Dixon wraps me into his arms, cutting off any further discussion.
Tears fall freely as yet another part of me soars free.
“It’s more than fifty, but less than one hundred. I think,” he reveals a second later, the disgust evident in his tone. “I’m the one who should be apologizing for not being able to offer you something more…wholesome. If I could take back every single one of those women, I would.”
I sniff back my tears, not caring about the number anymore. “Maybe our tainted pasts can wipe our future slates clean?”
“Maybe,” is his saddened response.
Wanting to put all my cards on the table, I confess, “I was jealous.”
He sighs, rubbing his hands up and down my back. “That’s good. Jealousy shows me that you care.”
“I—”
But he doesn’t let me finish. “Sshh. Let me just hold you, Maddy. No more talking. Not tonight.” I don’t know what that means, but I comply. And besides, I think I’ve done enough talking for the night.
As we stand hugging for minutes, I bite down on my tongue before I reveal how much I really do care.
20
Under Your Spell
DIXON
“This would be a lot easier if we had a selfie stick.”
I keep smiling until Madison snaps our picture in front of the Colosseum. Once the happy snap is taken, I turn to her with my eyebrow cocked. “What in God’s name is a selfie stick?”
“You seriously don’t know what a selfie stick is?” she asks, biting her top lip in an attempt to conceal her grin.
“No, I seriously do not. From the name alone, it could be misconstrued as being a number of things.”
She bursts out laughing, covering her mouth to mute her giggles. “Oh my God, you really are old.” She continues snickering at my expense while I resist the urge to Google what the hell this thing is.
Her comment, however, does raise an interesting point. I’ve never thought twice about the nine-year age gap between us. Has she? As if on cue, a young man close to Maddy’s age strolls past us, his ridiculous baggy jeans sitting halfway down his ass, exposing his cheap-looking boxer shorts. I highly doubt an intelligent, beautiful young woman like Madison would find this wankster attractive. But I sure as shit know he finds someone like her attractive as he’s completely checking out her gorgeous rack.
My jealousy rivals hers, so I tug on her hand and steer her in the opposite direction.
“Hey! I wanted to take a look at the tunnels that lead underground,” she gripes, looking at her tour map while I drag her away.
“We can do that later. Let’s go this way first,” I suggest, turning over my shoulder to glare at the disappointed youth.
“Okay, fine. What are you looking at?” she asks, looking behind her. Thankfully, she doesn’t notice my territorial pissing.
As we go on to visit the dungeons, Maddy walks ahead with her eyes wide in awe as she takes in the sights around her. It’s nice to see her so happy, especially after last night. I feared she was seconds away from telling me that she wanted nothing to do with my whore ass after I revealed how many women I’ve been with. I know her jealousy over the waitress sparked her questions, and most men would be flattered, but I’m not. I’m ashamed that I don’t actually know the precise number. And I’m ashamed that that unknown number of women includes her stepsister.
Juliet has thankfully not contacted me. Here’s hoping that trend will continue when I return home, but I know I’m not that lucky.
Pushing thoughts of the she-devil aside, I turn the corner and see a young woman holding a gigantic stick with her iPhone attached on the end. Smiling, she pushes a button and her photo is instantly taken. Looks like I just discovered what a selfie stick is.
Maddy turns to me, her lips tipped up into a knowing grin. “Now can you guess what a selfie stick is, you old fart?”
I reply by lunging forward and capturing her in a bear hug. She squeals as I lift her off the ground. “Put me down, you barbarian!”
Her tiny hands playfully slap at my back, but this only encourages me to squeeze her tighter and call out like a caveman. “Considering our surroundings, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I love this easiness between us, and every day, I feel like Madison is finally opening up and becoming more and more comfortable with herself and her past. After she confirmed what I knew to be true about her brother, my worship for her grew to immeasurable bounds. The fact she wants to move forward with me, both physically and emotionally, makes me the luckiest son of a bitch alive. But funnily enough, I’m in no hurry to push the physical side of our relationship because I’m enjoying the emotional side so much. I never thought I would ever say that, but with Madison, I’m a different man.
“Are you all right?” she asks, looking down at me closely.
She must be able to read my pensive thoughts. Deciding to be honest, just as she was with me, I ask, “So, you think I’m old?”
The humor on her face disappears. “What? No, I was just kidding. Why? Do you think I’m too young?” When I don’t reply and lower her to the ground, she nudges me in the ribs. “Do you?”
“Too young for what?” I tease, watching her cheeks flush.
However, she doesn’t let my evasive question deter her from getting an answer. “Too young for you.”
I take two slow steps forward, while she takes two quick steps back. When she bumps into the wall behind her, I cage her by placing both hands either side of her head. “I suppose there is almost a decade between us. I’m not sure if my ancient mind can keep up with your youthful spirit. You may have to teach me a thing or two.”
When her chest begins rising and falling quickly, I don’t conceal the fact that I’m admiring the way her a
mazing tits are inflating with each raspy breath she takes. “There is only eight years between us. I do turn twenty-four in a few hours. And I-I think we can teach one another a thing or two.”
Dear God, what is this woman doing to me?
Ensuring I don’t sound like a slobbering fool, I nod, hoping I appear calmer than I feel. “It’s your birthday? I’d totally forgotten.”
She grins, but pulls at her lip nervously. “So you don’t think I’m too young?”
Her lip pops free when I run my thumb along the seam of her mouth. “No, Madison, you’re perfect. I think I’m the one who should be beating off your young admirers with my walking stick.”
“Admirers? What admirers?”
She really has no idea how beautiful she is.
“Just trust me on this.” Just the thought of these men has me grinding down on my jawbone.
She places her tiny palm on my cheek, cupping my face gently. “Well, I haven’t noticed because I’ve been too busy giving the stink eye to all of your admirers.”
“They can all go to hell,” I honestly counter, while Madison laughs.
“We really are just as bad as each other, aren’t we?”
I nod. “Yes, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
“Me neither.”
Her honesty has me growing some balls, and I suddenly want to tell her how I feel. “I’m irrevocably and willingly under your spell, Madison Roberts. No other woman exists but you. So feel free to stink eye anyone you like. Odds are I won’t see it because I’m too busy looking at you.”
I sound like a complete and utter pussy, but this is the only way I can tell her how I feel without freaking her out and telling her that I love her—because I do. I fucking love her. There wasn’t a precise time when I fell in love with her because I’ve been in love with her all along. And when the time is right, I’ll tell her.
But now is not that time because I currently have a dozen pairs of eyes on me as a group of school kids pass us by, giggling. Giving Maddy some breathing room, I uncage her from my arms. “Shall we continue with the tour?” She nods and loops her arm through mine.