I glance back at Dex to witness the tail end of his scary glare before it fades to his usual neutral expression.
Some guys are alpha dogs, snarling and snapping. Dex is more like a silverback gorilla, quietly going about his business until something pisses him off and he gives a warning.
I wonder what would happen if he truly lost his temper. He could easily pound the shit out of most people. Something those guys obviously understand.
But I no longer care about them. Now that we’re not mauling each other, I’m slightly mortified over the way I outright jumped Dex.
His expression isn’t smug, though. It’s thoughtful and a bit tender. “So, still not a fan of the beard?”
Sign me up and call me a convert. “Tell the truth. Did you do all this just to get me to kiss you?”
“No.” He gives my hair—now fisted in his hand—a tug, holding me a little away so he can study my lips. “I just wanted you to touch me.”
Then he takes my mouth again. One more time in a slow, exploring kiss before letting me go.
Breathless and more than a bit befuddled, it takes me a moment to gather my wits and climb off of him. I don’t even know what to do with myself. Don’t get me wrong, I love sex and am not ashamed to go after it. But I don’t do this. I don’t make out with guys who aren’t remotely my type. And I certainly don’t hit on a friend of my family; that’s just asking for awkward when things go south.
“Let’s go home,” Dex says quietly.
My gaze snaps to his, and he winces.
“I’m not implying to bed. Just back to Ivy and Gray’s.” He glances at his watch—a thick, black leather one that looks more like a cuff. “It’s coming on two in the morning. Bar’s going to close down soon anyway.”
“Okay, sure.” Home sounds like a good plan. Only I want to go alone and not have to face Dex anymore. Hottest kiss of my life or not, it’s not something I can do again. Ethan Dexter could become an addiction if I take another taste of him.
Chapter Two
Dex
In the course of my life, I’ve done stupid things. Who hasn’t? But kissing Fiona Mackenzie comes close to the top of the list. Ironically, it is definitely one of the best things I’ve done in my life as well. Painfully good.
Painful now. I’ve a hard-on that won’t go away and is bent awkwardly down the leg of my jeans. I’d adjust, but I know Fiona would notice. Not much gets by her.
Then again, she’s making a valiant effort to ignore me now, her gaze set on the window at her side as we drive Gray’s old pickup back to his house.
I love Grayson. The man is worth over 25 million dollars, and he still drives his high school truck. But now I’m thinking about the fact that I had my tongue in his baby sister-in-law’s mouth, and I have to resist the urge to wince.
I shouldn’t have done it. But my brain took a vacation. I know how good I am at manipulating a situation, and I saw the curiosity in Fi’s bright green eyes. So I cajoled, enticed, all but dared her to get up close and personal with my face. Had I expected her to kiss me? Hell no.
But I’d taken one look at her in that club and wanted her to touch me, to fucking see me more than my next breath. I’ve wanted that from the moment I laid eyes on her two years ago at her sister’s Christmas party.
Even then I knew Fiona wasn’t for me. I’m quiet, like to keep to myself. Fiona is life—bouncy, bubbly, snarky life. All wrapped up in a tiny, perfect package.
I’ve often heard Ivy compare Fi to Tinker Bell. I suppose that’s accurate. Only I’ve always found the little cartoon fairy annoying, and I could watch Fi all day. Just the lilting sound of her voice entrances me. And when her nose wrinkles and she glares? Hard as a fucking pike.