I don’t want to do casual any longer. I want to be with you. For real. The words are right there, on the tip of my tongue.
But I don’t blurt them out, because she’s not ready to hear them. Not tonight. Her shoulders are tense, her body is stiff, and she’s clearly on edge.
I exchange a glance with Hunter. He sees it too; his jaw tightens.
The last time I tried to be in a serious relationship, it had ended disastrously. I really don’t want this to go the same way.
I don’t know if it’s the overnight stay that’s got her skittish or if it’s Fiona finding her here. I don’t know what it is, but I have a bad feeling that if I open my mouth and tell her how I feel, I’ll lose her.
Hunter seems to reach the same conclusion. “Have you come prepared with a fantasy, Dixie?” he murmurs. “What’s left on your list?”
She swallows. “Umm…”
“Anal sex.” My voice comes out harsher than I intend. It strikes me that once upon a time, at the very beginning of this thing, I’d tried to scare her away by asking her if she was interested in anal.
I hadn’t known her then. I’d thought she was a prude and a judgmental one at that, and attractive as she was, I wanted nothing to do with her.
That was before. I hadn’t realized then that she’d been hurt, and she’d had to build armor to protect herself. Now I know. This time, I’m not trying to chase her away. This time, though I’m doing a piss-poor job of it, I’m trying desperately to get her to stay.
Her lips curl up into a sly smile. “Are you trying to scare me, Eric? What if I told you I wanted it?” Her voice lowers to a breathy whisper that has my cock rock hard and aching for her. “What if I told you I wanted both of you inside me tonight?”
Hunter gets to his feet abruptly. “Bedroom,” he says, his voice strained. “Now.”
And so we do it, and it’s great. She’s hot and tight and wet, and when the head of my cock penetrates her tight ring, she gasps, and her eyes go very wide.
“Slower?” I ask through gritted teeth. Fuck me, this is good, and I’m struggling not to blow my load. “Too much? Do you want me to stop?”
“No. God, no.” Her fingernails dig into the mattress. “This is… oh wow. I didn’t think it would be…” She whimpers as Hunter’s thumb grazes over her clit. “Oh yes, please.” There’s a raw edge to her voice. “This is so intense. I didn’t realize… this is not what I thought this would feel like…”
She’s babbling. I love that she’s at a complete loss for words. I love that she can’t form a coherent thought. I can’t either. She scrambles my mind. I’ve had good sex with a lot of women, but great sex? Great sex involves feelings. It’s amazing with Dixie because I’m crazy about her.
And then we’re both in her, and she falls apart, and I do my best to hold on, but I’m not far behind, and neither is Hunter.
I come so hard that it takes several long minutes before I can trust myself to walk. I get off the bed with unsteady feet, make my way to the washroom to dispose of the condom, and splash some water on my face. Tell her now. Tell her how you feel about her.
Dixie’s still slumped on the bed when I get back. “I can’t move,” she groans. “I may never move again.”
“Keep talking,” Hunter tells her with a lazy grin. “You’re doing great things for my ego.” He yawns as he sits up. “I want to do this again and more, but I’m wiped.”
He’s not the only one. I’ve had a couple of drinks, and I’ve been working long hours. I’m exhausted. I collapse back on the bed, wrapping my arm around Dixie and tugging her closer. I’m about to blurt out that I’m crazy about her when Hunter returns from the washroom. “This is a queen-sized mattress,” he says with a wry smile. “It’s fine for me, but it’s snug for the three of us.” He gets into bed and turns out his reading light. “If we’re going to make a habit of this, I’m going to get a bigger bed.”
Dixie goes stiff in my arms.
So much for that. I guess I won’t be telling her anything tonight.
There’s no need to push, I tell myself. You don’t have to hurry. This is new for her and very much outside her comfort zone. Be patient.
It takes me a very long time to fall asleep.
30
Hunter
I wake up shortly after six. Both Dixie and Eric are still asleep, so I slide out of bed as quietly as I can and head down the hallway to the washroom.
In the shower, as hot water washes over me, my thoughts wander.
I should have talked to Dixie last night. Eric wants a relationship, and so do I. I thought I didn’t have the space for it, but when she’d showed up at my door yesterday evening, I’d realized how wrong I’d been.
But I hadn’t broached the subject. Partly, it was because I’d been tired and drained—it had been an emotional roller coaster of a day, and I wasn’t in the right frame of mind for this conversation.
But the other reason I’d held my tongue was Dixie herself.
In all the time we’ve been sleeping together, Dixie has never spent the night. Hell, even having sex in bed is something she avoids. Back seat of my car? Kitchen counter? Shoved up against a wall? Dixie’s good with all of that. But the instant I suggest we head to a bedroom, she tenses up.
Last night though, she’d agreed to stay, and it had felt like an important milestone, and I hadn’t wanted to do or say anything to make her regret her decision.
Today, I promise myself.
How will she react?
I wish I knew. A threesome is difficult for Dixie. Her asshole of an ex-boyfriend shamed her for her desire, and it’s impacted her almost all her adult life. She’s concerned about what people think. Yesterday, she’d flinched when Xavier, Fiona, Adrian, and Brody had walked in.
On the other hand, she’s come so far in the last few weeks. She’s more open about her desires, more willing to ask for what she wants. She trusts us. She came over yesterday. She agreed to spend the night. Those are all good signs, right?
I head downstairs. I grind a handful of coffee beans, dump the grounds into a filter, and turn on the coffee maker. I’m just about to sit down with a mug when my phone rings.
It’s not a number I recognize. I pick it up anyway—it could be a patient—and a woman’s voice answers. “Could I speak to Hunter Driesse, please?”
“This is Hunter.”
“Mr. Driesse, hello. My name is Sophia Thorsen. I’m the Director of Outreach of the Highfield Community Health Center. We met at your mother’s will reading a few weeks ago.”
I can vaguely picture her. Caucasian, early thirties, blonde hair, average height. “I remember who you are, Ms. Thorsen.”
“I’m so sorry to bother you this early, Mr. Driesse, but unfortunately, we’ve run into an emergency. We just got word yesterday afternoon that the building housing our health center is going to be sold. Our landlord has received an offer he cannot turn down. If we can make a counteroffer in the next two weeks, he’ll sell it to us.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Do you know who made the offer?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t. He didn’t share that information.”
It’s Donahue. I know it. The timing is too much of a coincidence for it to be anyone else. I left him a message yesterday afternoon after my lunch with Annette and told him I wasn’t selling, and he’s immediately jumped into action.
The fucking asshole. He knows how important this health center was to my mother, and by extension, to me. He’s determined to build his goddamn subdivision, and he’ll stoop to any level to make it happen.
Including shutting down the only community health center in town.
When Sophia continues speaking, her voice sounds bleak. “We need to raise two million dollars in fourteen days. It’s an aggressive goal, especially on the heels of our last fundraiser, but we’re desperate. Mrs. Driesse left our organization a very generous bequest, but that money has already been earmarked for necessary equipment.”
/> I can read between the lines. They’ve just wrapped up a fundraiser. They’ve already spent the money my mother left them. They’re tapped out, and the odds of them succeeding are slim to none.
Sophia Thorsen doesn’t know that my refusal to sell this house is the reason she’s begging people for money at seven in the morning. She’s asking me for a contribution; she doesn’t expect me to cough up two million dollars. I’m one of many donors on her list.
But I know the truth. This is my doing. I backed Donahue into a corner, and now, I face an ugly choice. I can either save my mother’s house, or I can save the health center.
I promise her a donation and hang up.
There’s a knot of guilt in my stomach. I can’t solve Sophia Thorsen’s problems. I do okay—I make a comfortable living, but I can’t write her a two-million-dollar check. Not without selling my mother’s house.
Then Dixie enters the kitchen, and I catch sight of the closed-off expression on her face, and I know that my problems are just beginning.
31
Dixie
I wake up. For a few seconds, I lie in bed, and then the memory of last night returns, and I bolt up. What was I thinking?
I’d been so good at keeping my feelings under control. So good at keeping this about sex and nothing else.
Then last night happened. There was sex, sure. But there was also kissing. Cuddling. Spooning. And I’d liked it.
Idiot, idiot, idiot.
Hunter’s side of the bed is empty, but Eric is still in bed, fast asleep. He's spooning a pillow, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. In his sleep, he looks younger. Sweeter. The shields he holds in place are down.
I start to reach out and brush the hair off his face, and then I catch myself. What am I doing? What is wrong with me?
Yesterday was a mistake. Maybe it was Hunter’s face lighting up when I brought him food, or maybe it was the way Eric’s eyes kept returning to me. Maybe it was Fiona, spinning tantalizing dreams, hinting that a relationship between the three of us might be possible…
Last night was everything I wanted it to be and more. Last night makes me foolish, and it makes me hopeful, but in this case, hope isn’t a good thing. It’s a terrifying thing.
I want Eric and Hunter. I’m falling for them. I could ask them if they’d be interested in a real relationship, but if they somehow, against all odds, happen to agree, then what? I’m not Fiona. I’m not Avery, and I’m not Kiera. I’m not as strong as my friends. This version of me is a lie. For years and years, I let William’s judgment hold me back. Yesterday, I’d flinched when Xavier walked into the kitchen. I want to be braver, but I’m afraid that put to the test, I’m going to fail. Maybe the real me is always going to be the woman who wants nothing but missionary with the lights turned down.
I need to get my head back on straight.
I use the toothbrush Hunter found me last night, wash my face, and get dressed in yesterday’s clothes, all except my panties, because that’s just icky. Then I go downstairs, telling myself firmly that I’m not going to linger. I will gulp down some coffee, and then I will leave.
Then I catch sight of Hunter’s expression. He’s staring into space, and there’s something about the way he’s holding himself that alerts me. Something’s wrong. “What happened?”
He looks up. He attempts a smile. “Hey,” he greets me. “Want coffee?”
“Yes. I’ll grab a cup. What’s wrong?”
“Am I that easy to read?” He shakes his head wryly. “My mother left me this house. A local developer is very interested in buying it. He wants to build a gated subdivision here. He’s been hounding me ever since her funeral.”
“Do you want to sell?”
“No,” he admits. “Well, not to him. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it, but I don’t think that’s what my mother would have wanted. I left him a message yesterday, declining his offer. I’d hoped he’d take my refusal in stride.”
I pour coffee into a mug and sit down across from him. “From your expression, I take it he didn’t.”
“He’s threatening to shut down the community health center. I just got a call from their Director of Outreach. He’s talked their landlord into selling their building. If they can’t raise two million dollars in fourteen days, they’ll be forced to shut down.” He takes a deep breath. “I feel responsible for this.”
I open my mouth, and he holds up his hand to forestall me. “If you’re going to tell me this isn’t my fault, I’m going to warn you that while I know that’s technically true, it’s not going to change the way I feel.”
As if I didn’t know that. “That’s not what I was going to say. I was going to ask you why you couldn’t ask your friends for help.” He looks like he has no idea what I’m talking about. I lean forward. “Xavier Leforte—”
“I can’t ask my billionaire friends to solve all my problems.”
“You’re not,” I retort. “Xavier gives away millions of dollars every year. I can’t think of a more worthy organization than a community health center. You’re not asking Xavier to solve your problems—you’re helping the health center find more donors.”
He hesitates. “I don’t know—”
“You don’t have to do this alone, Hunter,” I say gently. “Let your friends help. When my mother died, people didn’t always know what to say and what to do, but they all wanted to feel useful. And, as much as I wanted to be left alone, letting them in made me feel better.”
He looks up at me. “Is that why you brought the casserole yesterday? Because you wanted to feel useful?”
He's staring at me, waiting for my answer.
No, I want to say. I came over because I didn't want you to be alone. Because I'm starting to fall in love with you.
But of course, I don’t say that. I’m not brave enough. “I’ve been eating too much takeout,” I say instead, in a weak attempt at humor. “I was afraid I’d forgotten how to cook.”
Eric enters the kitchen before Hunter can respond. He looks sleepy, and his hair is still tousled. “Morning,” he grunts, making a beeline for the coffeepot. “You’re awake far too early.” He inhales half a cup before he continues speaking. “I had different plans for this morning.”
His expression is far too serious. My stomach dives. I have a bad feeling about this. “You did?” I ask lightly. Keep it casual, Dix. “I hope they included one of your fantasies. So far, it’s been all about me. That doesn’t seem fair.”
A shadow passes over Eric's face. It’s gone in a flash. His lips curve into a wicked smile. “Do you want to hear my fantasies, Dix? I have so many of them.”
My emotions are a weird mix of ‘something bad is going to happen’ and ‘that smile of Eric’s turns me on.’ “Like what?”
“I could tell you,” he responds. “But it’ll be easier to show you.”
“You’re not serious.” I start to laugh. “This is your fantasy? You want to mess around in a canoe?”
“Do fantasies have to be serious all the time? Can they never be silly?”
That question punches me in the gut. My sex life has never been silly or fun. That would require too much intimacy, and I’ve never dropped my shields around a partner long enough to allow that to happen.
You dropped them around Eric and Hunter. You told them you wanted to get caught having sex in the back seat of a car. You trusted them with that, and so much more.
Those are uncomfortable thoughts. “There are three of us,” I protest. “We’ll capsize.”
“You don’t know that. Aren’t you even a little curious?” He quirks an eyebrow. “Of course, if you’re afraid of getting wet…”
“Getting wet isn’t the problem, and you know it,” I retort.
Hunter laughs out loud. “Is that a dirty joke, Dixie? I’m proud of you.” He retreats into a nearby shed and emerges with three life jackets. “The lake is really a glorified puddle. The water is waist-high in most places. Still, better safe than sorry.”
> “Good idea,” Eric responds. I tug the life jacket on. Eric zips me up, tightening the straps so it fits me snugly. When he’s done, I expect him to pull away, but for a long instant, he just stares down at me. The moment stretches between us, intimate and almost tender, and I don’t know what to make of it. Does he want to be involved with me? Is that what he was trying to tell me earlier? Am I brave enough to ask?
No, I’m not. I clear my throat and take a half-step back, breaking the spell. “If we’re going to do this, we better get a move on. After all, you have to be at work today, and it’s already past eight.”
“You don’t?”
“I took the day off. I need some downtime, and I have laundry to do.”
“Laundry?” He gives me a sharp look. “Is everything okay, Dix?”
I don’t want to talk about work. “Are we doing this, or are we making small talk?”
“Why not both?” he quips. “Fine. Hunter, you want to get in the bow? Dixie, you take the stern.” He sees my blank look and explains. “Get in the back. I’ll sit in the middle, on the floor of the canoe.”
“This is insane,” Hunter announces, although he’s biting back a smile as he says it. “Alright, let’s go.”
We paddle out to the middle of the lake. “Dixie,” Eric says. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to start by taking off your panties and handing them to me.”
It’s a lovely day. Beautiful and clear and ever so slightly cool. It’s hard to be tense with such perfect weather. The knot in my stomach eases. So what if I brought Hunter a casserole and spent the night cuddling with the two of them? Big deal. We’re back to talking about sexual fantasies. This is much safer ground. “Sorry,” I tell him with an impish grin. “I can’t do that. I’m not wearing any.”
His eyes go wide, and then he clutches his chest exaggeratedly. “A woman after my own heart.” He winks at me as he frees his cock. It jumps out, mouthwateringly hard and erect. He wraps his hand around the base. “Come on, baby,” he says. “You know what to do. Ride me.”
Daring Dixie Page 19