by Monica James
“Why don’t you want to go back to New York?”
I see the hair on his arms stand on end. “It’s becoming tiresome. I think I need a change.”
“And that change is moving halfway across the world?” I ask, beginning to panic. “If you need a change, find a new gym. Or get a haircut! What you’re proposing isn’t a small change. It’s life-changing.”
Dixon senses my mood shift and frowns. “I’m sorry if I upset you. Forget it.”
I shake my head. “No, I can’t. If you’re unhappy then I need to know. Have I done something?” I rack my brain for anything I’ve done to tick him off. I did eat the last macaroon last night. Maybe it’s that.
As I’m listing all the possible things in my head, Dixon pulls me into his lap. I look into his tender eyes and see nothing but despair. I’m sure that look wasn’t there a week ago. What’s going on?
“Dixon—” but he cuts me off by pressing his lips to mine.
“Forget this conversation ever took place,” he says around my mouth.
“No,” I stubbornly retort, refusing to let his charm distract me. “Tell me what’s wrong.” When he tries to kiss me again, I pull away and stand my ground.
He sighs once again. “I’m afraid that once we’re home, all of this—” he circles his finger around the room “—will just be a distant memory. I want this with you every day, but—”
“But what?” I prompt, waiting for him to finish.
He works his jaw angrily. “But New York is filled with…fuck! I don’t know.” He suddenly picks me up and lightly tosses me onto the sofa, my ass bouncing on the soft cushions. I watch as he stands up and walks out the front door, slamming it shut behind him.
What was that about?
New York is filled with what?
I should let him calm down, but I can’t. I need to know what’s wrong. Counting to ten, I stand and go outside to find him. I don’t have to look far as he’s standing a few feet away, having a smoke.
“Dixon?” My voice is a mere whisper out here in the open. His shoulders stiffen when he hears my voice. “Dixon, you need to talk to me. You’re scaring me.”
Silence.
Tears begin forming in my eyes, but I wipe them away because I’m no longer that girl who cries at the first sign of trouble. I walk toward him but give him some space. “If you’re really serious about moving here, I could maybe think about it. But I can’t make that decision—”
“Please, Maddy, forget I said anything,” he says irritably, blowing out a cloud of smoke.
I sniff. “No, I will not. I’ve got this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach that you’re not telling me something.” I place my hands over my tummy, suddenly feeling sick. “If you’re unhappy with our relationship, or me, I can change. Just tell me what it is.” I know I sound incredibly desperate, but I will do anything to make this relationship work.
“Don’t you get it?” he spits, spinning around to glare at me as he throws his cigarette to the ground. “It’s me.” He jabs his finger violently into his chest. “I’m the problem. You’re perfect. I’m the messed-up bastard who doesn’t deserve you.”
“What are you talking about?”
I’m met with a wall of silence, which annoys me. “Dixon, please. Just tell me what’s wrong!”
He abruptly charges toward me, gripping my upper arms and shaking me lightly. “I’m talking about the fact that when we get back to New York, I’m terrified you’re going to see the real me! You’re going to find out what I’ve done, and then you’ll hate me.”
“What?” I gasp, unable to hold back my tears a second longer. “No, I would never.”
He shakes his head firmly. “Yes, you will, Madison. I hate myself for it! And when that time comes, I will have to let you go. I’m surviving on borrowed time as it is.”
“Dixon—”
“I’m not who I say I am,” he sadly confesses, before releasing me and turning away.
But I chase after him, refusing to let him walk away. “You don’t get to say all those things and then just walk away!” I grip his bicep and spin him to face me. “Why would I hate you? What have you done that’s so bad?”
“What haven’t I done?” is his broken reply.
I don’t know what to say. My paradise has just been shit on and I don’t know why. I don’t understand what’s going on. When did this all go to hell?
“Madison, please don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry.”
I’d hardly even realized that I’m crying. I’m too busy trying to decode everything he just shared with me. Although it was all a jumbled confession, it was a confession nonetheless.
What has he done?
Fingering the charm around my neck, the charm that meant so much to Dixon, I realize that whatever he’s done, I don’t care. The only thing I care about is losing him, and losing this feeling of being complete when by his side.
“I don’t care,” I state, digging my fingernails into his arms. “Whatever you’ve done, I don’t care.”
He turns his head like I’ve slapped him. “Don’t use words you don’t understand.”
“Well, if you stop talking in fucking riddles, maybe I can understand what the hell is going on! What has happened from the time I was upstairs to now to have you behaving like a lunatic?”
He lowers his eyes and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him admit defeat. But I won’t let him give up. Not on himself. Or on us. The thought of losing Dixon, of losing what we have punches a hole straight through my chest. I find it hard to breathe.
“Please don’t leave me.”
Dixon cups my cheeks roughly, his eyes frantically searching mine. “Don’t you understand? You’ll be the one leaving me.”
No. Fucking no.
All of my emotions come roaring out of me and I act before I can think. I slap his hands off of me and watch him watch me in confusion for a split second, before I attack him. I slam my mouth onto his, knocking the breath from both our lungs. But the connection feels too good to worry about a trivial thing such as breathing.
We devour each other, the kiss frenzied, rushed and desperate, but it’s everything I need to confirm that I’m alive.
I pull at his soft hair, fisting the strands in both my hands because I need to feel as much of him as I can.
The adrenalin of the past five minutes pumps harder and faster through my veins, animating me to bite down on his lip and suck it hungrily into my mouth.
I whimper when I feel his massive erection nudge me, demanding entrance. I’ve never felt this crazed before. Never wanted him inside of me more than I do right now. I need it. Nothing makes more sense than him being inside of me.
Dixon must be able to read my desires because he tears his mouth away, leaving me gasping for air. I’m unable to catch my breath, however, because he backs me up fiercely and slams me against the brick wall. He presses his chest to mine, trapping me with his stare as he avidly slides his hand underneath my dress and bunches my underwear into his fist. With one sharp tug, he tears them clean off of me. I gasp, my heart pounding hysterically, the blood whooshing through my ears.
Looking down at his tenting jeans, I know what I have to do. With desperate fingers, I unsnap his button and yank down his fly, shoving my hand inside. The moment I feel his hard-on, we both groan, but it’s not enough. I need more.
“Suck,” he commands, thrusting two fingers into my mouth as he lifts up my skirt. I do as he demands; imagining it’s his length I’m sucking. He groans in approval.
He pulls them out before circling my center and then inserting them both into me. I cry out, the sharp intrusion exactly what I need. He searches his pockets, but curses. “Fuck! I don’t have a condom.”
But I don’t care.
So I say something that I’ve not ever said before. “Fuck me anyway.”
I’ve never referred to our love-making so crudely, but I know this act comes in all different shapes and sizes. And what we’re about to do
is going to be primeval.
Dixon growls and without further delay his jeans hit the dirt. He hooks my leg around his waist and thrusts into me passionately. I scream, but the pleasure overrides the pain and I take it willingly as he slams into me over and over.
It feels so different with nothing between us and I like it. It feels raw and it feels real. Just like our love.
I buck my hips forward, moaning when he pushes into me so deep, I feel him in every single pore.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I draw his face toward me and kiss him wildly. My climax is already building and I know I’m going to unravel in next to no time.
Dixon pulls his mouth away and sucks on my neck hungrily. I feel like he’s devouring me from the inside out and I love it. With hasty fingers, he undoes the top three buttons on my dress, freeing my breasts in seconds. The moment they spill free, he sucks them passionately, biting and pulling my nipples with just the right pressure to have me mewling in pleasure.
I need to touch him, but as I attempt to run my fingers through his hair, he grabs my arms and pins them above my head. He secures both wrists into his huge palm and holds me prisoner in every aspect of the word.
His strokes are fierce, almost punishing, and I crave it. He suckles at my breasts and drives into me hard while my arms are suspended above my head. His need for me is evident and I can no longer hold on.
I whimper out my release, my body rippling and trembling with an orgasm so fierce, it brings tears to my eyes. A second later Dixon yells and pulls out, while I feel a warm sensation jet out against my inner thigh.
It feels like it takes minutes, but when I’m finally able to see clearly, I see regret and pain in Dixon’s eyes. “Oh, Maddy. I’m so sorry. I’m a fucking animal. Did I hurt you?” He quickly lets my wrists go, kissing over the tender skin.
But I won’t accept his apology. “Stop it. I’m fine. I’m more than fine. Just tell me you love me.”
“What?” he asks, shaking his head in bewilderment.
“Just tell me you love me because if you do, we can overcome everything.”
“Of course I love you. I’ve never loved, nor will ever love any woman more than I do you.”
“Good.” I breathlessly sigh, sagging against his chest.
I know it’s naïve of me but I don’t want to face reality—not yet anyway.
23
Game Over
DIXON
We need to talk.
Nothing good has ever come from that phrase—especially when that phrase comes from Juliet.
Staring at the ominous text message over my morning coffee, I wonder what the hell she wants. The simple message shouldn’t have ruined my holiday, but it did. And that’s because I knew there was nothing simple about it.
Why was she texting me?
She was supposed to be lost in a spa-induced coma and not thinking about me. Or thinking about talking to me.
This text message sparked my insanity and before I knew it, I was talking crazy. But a small part of me wonders what would have happened if Maddy had agreed. Would I really have left this life behind?
As I stare back down at the text, I know the answer is yes.
“Good morning,” Maddy chirps as she gives me a kiss on the cheek before stealing my coffee.
I quickly place my cell into my pocket and smile. “You all set?” Maddy has internship interviews today, and I know she’s incredibly nervous.
“Yup. Fingers crossed I get into Mount Sinai.”
“You will.”
When she cocks an eyebrow, I raise my hands. “Hey, I promised I wouldn’t intervene and I haven’t. I just have faith in you, that’s all.”
She smiles. “Thank you. Oh, I’ll have my phone off for most of the day. I have a study group in the library after interviews. We’re going to do some serious cramming. So if you don’t hear from me, don’t worry.” She sips her coffee before stealing my half-eaten bagel. “Shit. I’m late. See you tonight for dinner?”
I look down at where my food once sat. “It’s a date. Seeing as you’ve eaten all my breakfast, God knows I’ll be famished by then.”
She giggles, swallowing the last of my bagel. “You talk funny. Have fun at work.”
“That’s unlikely. Good luck.”
She pecks my lips before I slap her on the ass and send her out the door.
* * *
“And how does that make you feel, Mrs. Chan?”
“I feel inadequate. My husband’s sexual desire to sleep with other women hurts.”
I look up from my notepad and actually feel sorry for her when I see that she’s crying. We men are bastards. Plucking out two tissues from the box beside me, I pass them to her.
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“Would you like a minute?”
She blows her nose and shakes her head. “No. I’m okay.”
“In that case, how about you tell me…” but I’m unable to finish my sentence because in charges Satan, with Susanna on her heels.
“Dr. Mathews, I am so sorry! She just barged in,” Susanna explains breathlessly.
I narrow my eyes when I’m confronted with a pissed-off Juliet.
“Well, I wouldn’t have to resort to such methods if Dr. Mathews replied to text messages,” she reveals, glaring at me.
“This is completely unacceptable. You must leave immediately. Shall I call security, Dr. Mathews?”
I coolly place my pen onto my notepad. “It’s fine, Ms. Vale. Mrs. Chan, will you please excuse me for just a moment? My apologies, but I need to deal with this.”
She nods, looking at Juliet, no doubt wondering who the crazy bitch in my office is.
“Ms. Vale, will you please bring in a cup of coffee for Mrs. Chan?”
“Of course, Doctor.” She eyeballs Juliet before turning to leave.
Standing slowly, I button up my suit jacket and brush past Juliet, not bothering to make eye contact. I hear her heels follow in hot pursuit as I walk into the meeting room. She smugly walks past me while I turn to look at an anxious Susanna, who is standing at her desk. I raise my palm, indicating if I’m not out in five minutes, she’s to call security.
She nods.
I shut the door and turn to face the devil. “So you’ve got my attention, what do you want?”
“How was your trip?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
I don’t like her tone, but reply calmly. “It was fine.”
“Just fine? So you worked the entire time? You didn’t get up to anything special?”
“Juliet, if there is a point to this story, please get to it,” I coolly declare, adjusting my tie.
Her lips pull into a thin line before she snarls, “You’re a fucking liar, Dr. Mathews.”
I shrug, placing my hands into my pockets. “Well, you’re hardly a saint.”
“No, I may not be, but I’ve never lied about my feelings for you.” She has the audacity to sniff.
I have no idea where this has come from because I’ve lied about so many things, but my nonexistent patience suddenly snaps. “You have no feelings, you narcissistic bitch.”
She jerks backwards, my honesty wounding her, but she pulls it together a second later. “I know you didn’t go to Switzerland on business. You took Madison to Rome for her birthday, just like you said you were going to!”
…Well, shit.
I don’t confirm or deny it.
“Are you just going to stand there? Aren’t you even going to defend yourself?” she spits after I yawn, bored by her melodramatics.
“Why would I bother? You seem to have made your mind up.” There’s no need to panic until I have to. However, when she huffs, I know now would probably be a good time to start.
“Fine. You want to play that game.” She hunts through her bag, producing her cell phone.
I watch, keeping my calm. She has no proof. Until I’m caught red-handed, I’m in the clear.
“Explain this,” she sneers, flipping her screen a
round. I instantly see a picture of Madison and me, kissing in front of the Trevi Fountain.
It really is a beautiful photo, and I can’t help but smile.
“Well?” she barks, ruining the moment.
“That was taken months ago,” I reply with a flippant wave of my hand.
“Don’t lie to me!” She frantically opens up the Facebook app. She scrawls through some sidebar gadget thing and scowls when she finds whatever she is looking for. “Read the caption and date,” she demands, throwing the phone at my head. Thankfully, I catch it.
When I see she’s found Madison’s Facebook page and her rather large selection of holiday snaps, which are all dated, I internally groan.
Best birthday present ever. Not only has my amazing boyfriend taken me to Rome for my birthday, but he’s crawled into the 21st century and discovered what a selfie stick is.☺
Damn you, Zuckerberg, you geeky, nerdy, tech-savvy dweeb.
“So, care to tell me the truth?” Juliet demands, snatching the cell from my hand.
“You seem to know it all. How about you tell me what you think?” This is my way of finding out what she thinks she knows.
She steps forward angrily. “I think you’ve been lying to me this entire time. I think you sent me to the Hamptons so I wouldn’t catch on to what you were doing. I think Madison means more to you than you’ve let on. I think you love her, and I think you’ve been playing me this entire time! That’s what I think, Dr. Mathews.”
Abort! Abort! Abort!
But I stand tall, ignoring the urge to flee. “And what if what you’re saying is true? What now?”
She clenches her jaw. “Now, I ruin you. I don’t like being played for a fool. And that’s exactly what you’ve done.”
Thinking on my feet, I casually take a seat, drumming my fingers on the table. “How do you propose you’ll ‘ruin’ me?” I ask a moment later, using quotation marks to belittle her.
She smirks wickedly. “I’ll show the world what a lying, unethical doctor you really are.”
“Go ahead.” I sweep my hand out. “You do, and I’ll sue your ass for defamation.”