Sophie

We curled up in the big bed in his attic room, sleeping. Dex was exhausted—he’d been on planes for nearly twenty-four hours getting here, and he hadn’t slept last night. But he slept now, deeply, lying on his side, as unmoving as if he’d passed out. I did that, I thought, curled up against his muscled back, my arm over him. I just screwed him into unconsciousness.

Part of me couldn’t believe I’d done it. But looking at him, yeah, part of me could.

I was tired too. But I was light-headed, thoughts swirling through my mind. My body felt different. Weird. Amazing, like I could feel every drop of blood traveling through my veins. I was sore, and raw, and happy. Dex just took your virginity, I reminded myself. I felt like throwing him a party, maybe a parade down Main Street, with a marching band and a big banner: Thank You, Dex Carter.

I lifted my head and looked over his shoulder. His hand, the one he’d punched Sebastian Santos with, was curled up on the coverlet. The knuckles were still red and swollen, though they were slowly healing. The mystery of what had happened still unsettled me. That strange moment I’d seen so many times, when he’d pulled his fist back and swung—it was graceful and chilling at the same time. It wasn’t the man I knew at all, like watching a stranger in Dex’s body. I couldn’t piece it together.

That made me think of Jim and Patty, so I rolled over to my side of the bed and grabbed my phone from the pocket of my skirt, discarded on the floor. I always kept my phone on silent—they frowned on the pings of personal cell phones in the offices of Wells and Anderson—and now I saw I had a series of worried texts from my mother.

Still nothing from Dex. Have you heard from him?

I sighed. That irresponsible ass, letting our parents worry. I quickly texted her back. He’s here at the house. He’s fine. He’s just tired, wants some privacy. No need to come home. Then I realized she’d call as soon as she read it, so I added, Getting in the car right now and can’t talk. Call you later.

There was a pause. Then Mom texted, Are you sure he’s all right?

I glanced over at him, his back shadowed with muscles, his body still unmoving. He’s fine, I replied. Talk later.

“I can hear you typing.” Dex’s voice was a low rumble. He was half asleep. “What are you doing?”

I rolled over and hooked my arm over him, propping my chin on his shoulder, where the ink of his tattoos ended. He hadn’t even opened his eyes. “I’m reporting on you to Patty.”

He gave a low groan. His eyes opened, and he rubbed his hand tiredly over his face. “What did you tell her?”

“That her stepson is happy to let her think he’s jumped off a bridge or something instead of letting her know he’s okay.”

He groaned again, this time with the pain of having to listen to me nag him through the haze of his exhaustion, and I smiled.

I leaned down and dropped a soft kiss to his stubbled cheek. “I told her you’re fine, and you’re tired, and there’s no need to call or come back.”

“Thank you,” he said. He took my hand in his and kissed it, on the back, like a gentleman. “We’ll go again later,” he promised. “I just need a few hours.”

I didn’t have to answer, because then he was gone again, asleep. I put my phone down. It felt naughty, texting my mother about Dex while he was naked in bed beside me. But it also felt strange. I was close to my mother—though she did the usual mom things, she also treated me like a good friend. She adored Dex, just like most people did. I wondered what she’d think if she knew.

Knew what, though? There was nothing to tell. I’d needed someone to take my virginity, and Dex had obliged. He’d be gone soon, back to his crazy life. I had my plan to follow—build my career, find a guy who could be an actual boyfriend. Someone who would be around for more than a day or two. And if that guy didn’t quite measure up to Dex in the sex department, which I suspected he wouldn’t, well, he’d just have to deal with that.

That idea of being with some other guy made me feel weird, and a little gross at the moment. It was too soon. And despite myself, I asked myself the doomed, crazy question that was the fastest way to insanity: How many women had Dex done this with? Had he slept with other women like this, made them come like he had with me, spent the night with them? Was deflowering virgins something he was used to?

Ugh. Stop it, Sophie. Just stop it.

This was not the time to become that girl. I didn’t have an ego like Dex did—the man ate confidence for breakfast—but I had a sense of my own worth. I was smart, I excelled at school and work, I was a good person. I was pretty attractive, though maybe I wasn’t a swimsuit model. So he’d slept with some of the most blindingly beautiful, sexy women in the world. So what, right?

Ugh, again. For God’s sake, stop it.

It didn’t matter. I’d gotten what I wanted. We both had. I could be strong about this. I could be an adult.

I slid out of bed and picked up my clothes from the floor. I hesitated. I didn’t want to leave. I knew I should, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to sleep with him all night, wake up with him.

But that would make me a fool.

Dex slept on, unmoving. He didn’t hear me pick up my phone again and tiptoe to the door, naked. And he didn’t hear when I slipped outside and let it fall closed behind me.