I reach for my journal, but stop when I realize what I want to write is not what I’m ready to share with Cory. I grab my laptop instead. I write to get it out, to help unburden my heart.

Love finds most of us fast and unexpectedly, but when it came to me and Dex, it was slow and calculated as if it knew to hold on and wait. I’m caught in the middle of developing feelings for a man that has shown me more than his heart. He’s shown me his soul.

Feeling much like lyrics, I title it ‘Dex’ and save the document in my Songs folder. The one thing I’ve learned about giving a part of yourself away is that you may not get it back. Love is a risk and I’m finding that I’m more willing to take it with him. I’m still left questioning if I’m as ready as I think I am, if I’m prepared to have someone in my life that is also a regular fixture in the boys’ lives. I have no room for casual when it comes to them, so I need to be sure before jumping into something that could leave us devastated again.

Me: Hi.

Thirty minutes go by on this Friday evening before he replies: Hi.

What to say? What to say? Me: How are you?

Dex: Good. You?

I’m not feeling very liked right now. Me: I’m fine. What are you up to?

Dex: I’m out. You want to join us?

Me: Us?

Dex: Some friends of mine. You should come.

“Beth?” I call from my office.

The boys’ nanny comes in. “Yes?”

“Can you work late tonight?”

A sly smile works its way across her face. “You going out?”

“I’m thinking I might.”

She’s always supportive of me. “I’ll stay. I could use the extra money and I owe CJ a foot race in the backyard. He’s convinced he can outrun me just because I’m a girl.”

“Make sure to win big. We can’t have them growing up thinking women are the weaker sex.”

With a laugh, she says, “Nope, we can’t have that. Now you get ready and I’ll go tell the boys we get to make ice cream sundaes.”

“Thanks for staying.”

“No problem at all.”

I close my email and shut down my computer before going into my bedroom, phone in hand. Me: Text me where you’ll be in an hour.

Dex: I’m glad you’re coming out. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.

Me: You saw me yesterday.

Dex: Like I said, it’s been too long.

And I swoon, holding the phone to my chest as the happy emotions bubble up inside.

Just over an hour later, I’m walking into the outside patio of a restaurant that’s located at the back of a well-known hotel. It’s a private place that’s hard to get into unless you’re famous or you’re with someone famous, so celebrities like to hang out here.

Dex is seated at a table on the far side of the garden. There are four other people with him—three guys and a girl. With a cigarette in his mouth, he turns my way and a smile appears. Smoke fills the air above his head as he exhales, then stubs out the butt. Standing up, his chair is pushed back. He takes my hand and kisses my cheek, then whispers, “Glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” I reply.

“Sit here. I’ll get another chair.”

When I sit, the conversation ceases, so I lift my hand awkwardly, and say, “Hi, I’m Rochelle.” I recognize two of the guys from parties or somewhere in the past. But the other man and the woman I don’t.

She smiles, but it’s tight-lipped while she scopes me out to see if I’m competition for whomever she has her eye on at the table. This happens a lot in LA. Men hold all the cards here and too many women indulge that power by presenting it on a silver platter to them. “Enchante,” she says, putting her hand toward me like I should kiss it. I take the limp hand, dropping it as quickly as I can.

Dex brings a chair, setting it at the corner of the crowded table. Tilting his head, he looks at me and smiles. It’s sexual and genuine all in one. “It’s good to see you.” When he looks back to the group, he starts the introductions, “Toby, Keith, but not the country singer, Wes, and Firenza. This is Rochelle.”

Firenza? Sounds exotic. Funny, I didn’t hear an accent.

Her chair is bumped up to his, and she leans forward, her arm resting on top of Dex’s. “You look familiar. How would I know you?”

Dex sits back, moving his arm out from under hers.

Everyone looks at me, waiting for an answer, but Toby replies, “She was married to the guitarist of the band.”

“Which band?” Firenza asks.

Dex sits up, looking annoyed. “The Resistance.” His answer is clipped.

She ignores his mood and continues in on me. “So you’re divorced, but you still hang on… I mean, hang out with Dex?”

“I’m not divorced. Cory and I weren’t marrie—”

Dex’s hands hit the table, drawing my attention as the metal feet of his chair scrape across the cement when he stands. “I haven’t seen the waitress in forever. I’m gonna get a drink from the bar.” He leaves so abruptly that we’re left staring at his back as he goes inside.

Uncomfortable being left here with her and confused to why he left, I start to get up so I can check on Dex. Persistent Firenza keeps going like nothing unusual happened at all though. “So you were only dating?” She scrunches her nose at me.

Wes touches her arm and she glares at him when he says, “He died. He was the one who died in the plane crash.”

Hearing Cory dismissed so easily by her angers me. I stand, my own chair noisy this time. When I look at her, her expression never changes. It’s just as cold and bitchy as a moment earlier. “You’re dating his band mate now?”

My eyes meet Wes’s and I say, “I’m gonna find Dex.”

As I’m walking away, I hear her explaining to the others, “So what, she’s dating Dex now. Who’s next, Johnny Outlaw?”

I let the bad vibes go as the distance grows between us. She wants to package me up and categorize me so it’s easier for her to understand. But none of this is easy to understand and if I don’t, then she won’t either. Dex is leaning on the bar talking with a tall brunette. She’s laughing. He’s smiling. I’m stepping to the side, debating. And now I’m apparently spying. Ugh! I make my way through the crowd of cocktail tables and patrons, not wanting to confront him, which is exactly what I’ll do if I talk to him now. But I still can’t resist sneaking a peek at him. He takes her card and tucks it into his shirt pocket before they say their goodbyes.

Wow. And here I was stupid enough to think he actually wanted me. Why’d I even bother? I just don’t fit into his world and by watching him, I don’t want to. I can’t stay here and continue to be hurt by him or these women.

I continue toward the door that will lead me to the valet. Just as I exit, I hear him call after me. I hand the ticket to the valet attendant and step to the side, pretending to be oblivious to Dex. “Rochelle? Why are you leaving?”

He’s got two drinks in his hand and he hands one to me. I don’t take it, but glance off to the side to see if that’s my car being pulled around. It’s not. I say, “You left me out there with that woman who seems to think I’m a gold-digger of some sort while you come inside and collect other women’s numbers. And you’re surprised I’m leaving?”

“I didn’t want to be rude. She works for Gucci and wants to talk to me about the potential for a campaign.”

“She should be talking to me then. I’m your business manager. Why’d you leave the table?”

He stares at me and I stare right back. Then he sets the drinks down on the valet podium and reaches into his shirt pocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes. Flicking one up, he takes it and taps it on the inside of his wrist before lighting it and taking a deep inhale. Finally, he says, “I don’t want to talk about Cory.”

“I didn’t bring him up. I was only correcting Firenza’s rude comment.”

“I don’t want you talking about Cory tonight.”

“Then you should have answered for me so I didn’t have to.”

He inhales again. With a slow exhale above my head, he says, “I wanted you to meet some of my friends. That’s all.”

“Your friends are assholes.”

“Not all of them.”

“No Dex, you’re right. Not all of them. Just her. And who is she exactly? I seem to be lost on her connection to you.”

He drops the cigarette to the ground and says, “We used to fuck.”

My heart is set on fire as he crushes me with his flippancy. I glare at him, then spit, “You sure it’s past tense?”

“I’m not having sex with her anymore. Why are you so bent out of shape?”

I double blink in shock at his attitude toward me. This is the Dex I’ve always known, his cocky side getting the best of him. I shouldn’t bother, but I do. “By how territorial she seemed during the interrogation I got, she might be under the impression the two of you are still fucking.”

With a shrug and an arrogant grin on his face, he says, “What can I say, she wants me.”

“Ms. Floros,” the valet says, tapping me on the shoulder. “Your car’s here.”

I turn and take the keys while tipping the valet. “Thank you.” Without another word, I begin to leave, but I’m startled and spun around, then pinned against my car by Dex’s firm body.

“Don’t leave,” he whispers just a breath away. “Stay.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not fucking her anymore and the only reason that I’m not is you.”

“That’s not charming.”

“I’m not trying to be charming. I’m trying to be truthful. She knows I like you. You’re a threat to her.”

“I’m not gonna get into some catfight over you.”

“You don’t have to. We can ditch them or join them and I’ll set her straight. Whatever you want, I’ll do. Just stay with me.” Our locked stares soften into gazes as our defenses come down, and he whispers, “Please stay.”

His vulnerability is a turn on, so several heavy heartbeats later, I lay my conditions down for him. “Fine. I’ll stay, but I want you to set her straight. She made me feel like I should be ashamed.”

“She doesn’t matter to me.” He takes my hand in his. “Only you do.” Leaning forward he kisses me, taking my breath away along with any doubts I had about us.

And with that, I give my keys back to the valet and we walk inside holding hands. He leads me back to the table, but we remain standing. Looking directly at her, he says, “We’re not gonna do this anymore.”

“I’m sorry, darling,” Firenza replies, batting her eyelashes. “Do what?”

The table falls silent and he says, “Fuck. I’m not interested in anyone but Rochelle.”

Her face falls when he says it so bluntly, and she starts reaching for anything to keep her in his good graces. “But she’s like a groupie, going through the band.”

“Shut your mouth,” he demands, hitting his hand down on the table. “You know nothing about her. The only reason I’m even bothering to tell you that you and I are over is that I respect her enough to do it.” He starts walking with me behind him, his grip wrapped tightly around my hand. “We’re leaving. The crowd sucks tonight.”

This time at the valet, he tips and takes the keys from the attendant. “I’ll drive.” I slip into the passenger seat and he waits to leave until I’m buckled in. The tension is high in the car, but not sexually like I prefer. He’s mad and I’m not sure what to say, so I stay quiet.

By the route he’s driving, he’s taking me to his house. I hope his mood lightens when we get there. Before we enter his community, he says, “I want you to stay the night with me.”

“I don’t have a sitter for the night.”

He doesn’t say anything else the rest of the ride.

When we walk in, it’s dark inside, but the pool lights are lit, drawing my eye to the backyard. “It’s a beautiful night. We should go for a swim,” I suggest, drawn to the blue lagoon.

When I look back to him, his eyebrow is raised and a devious grin lies across his face. “You don’t have your suit.”

“I can go in my underwear.”

“Or go naked.”

“Yes, or go naked but I’m thinking my bra and panties will be safer.”

He unlocks the doors and opens them wide. “Safe from what?” he asks, following me outside. After kicking off his shoes, he unbuttons his shirt, exposing his sexy abs.

When the shirt is tossed to a nearby chair, I reply, “Safe, safe, safe. What were we talking about again?”

“You were saying how keeping your undies on would be safer.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right.” A new skull and roses tattoo resides on his shoulder and I look at the style of it, reading the words under it—solum bonum decessura. I don’t know what it means. I’m distracted again as he undoes each button on his jeans, making me inhale an uneven breath. Safer. I’m not sure if he’s gonna be safe from my sexual attacks when he’s that hot. His words make me look up when he asks, “You gonna get undressed or what?”

“I’m enjoying the show too much. I might just watch you instead.”

“Shirt off, woman.”

“All right. All right. Fine.” I pull my top off and place it neatly on a chaise. Turning my back, I check him out over my shoulder.

He’s at the bar and music starts playing though I don’t see any speakers. Nirvana’s “In Bloom.” “I never knew you liked grunge so much. Jane’s Addiction, now Nirvana.”

“Soundgarden, Stone Temple Pilots though it’s debatable about their grunginess. Bands of that time like Red Hot Chili Peppers have kick ass drummers. Rock is great but I like the rhythms that straddle the hardcore rock and the grunge era.” He pulls bottles of liquor onto the countertop. I pop open the top button of my jeans as he pours two shots of tequila. With his jeans hanging low on his hips and wide open in the front, I feel my self-control slipping away as he comes toward me. “You never did get a drink at the bar.”

“Salud,” I say, taking the shot and downing it. “No lime?”

“No.” His reply is direct, then his tongue drags up the corner of his mouth and I stare. My heart starts thudding in my chest as I move closer to him. He asks, “We should swim, right? It’s safer that way.”

“We’ll end up the same either way.”

His right hand touches just where my bra ends and goes lower exploring my waist. “How so?”

When his fingers dip into the back of my jeans, I reply, “Wet.”

“Fuuuck,” he curses under his breath, looking up and taking a step back.

“I’m trying.”

His hands slide into his hair, his frustration scene in the move. “Shit. You can’t say things like that and expect me to stand here and not react.”

“It’s the tequila talking. Ignore me.”

“Trust me. I’ve tried to ignore you. It’s impossible.”

With a sigh and roll of my neck, I say, “I’m thinking it’s hot tub time.”

“I’m thinking the pool to cool off.” He takes his jeans off and dives in.

I take mine off and walk to the edge and sit down, dangling my feet in. He swims closer and grabs my ankles. Bearing my weight on my wrists I lift up as he tugs me down slowly until the front of my body slides down against his. Dex kisses my stomach as I slip into the chilly water.

“Why do we play these games anyway? I want you, Rochelle. I think that’s clear.”

Clear is not the word I would use for his erection. Rock hard might fit the situation better. The liquor warms my body as it infiltrates my senses and relaxes me. I wrap my legs around his waist, but lean back on the ledge, keeping my body afloat by holding onto the side.

“It’s not just a matter of want between us.”

Moving closer, his hands slide to my ass as he presses harder against me. “You’re right, but we’ve got the basics covered. Aren’t you ready to try more?”

Slipping my arms around his neck, I readjust, the wiggle making my body tingle. “It’s not just about us. It’s not even just about the kids. There are things, people involved that I don’t want to hurt and you asked me not to talk about that tonight. So let’s not. Let’s just leave it for another day and have another shot.”

There’s a gleam in his eye reflecting the pool, maybe more as he looks at me. “Okay, more shots then.”

He perches me on the side of the pool and I lay back as he jumps out. Staring up at the sky, I try to orientate myself by the constellations I’m used to seeing at home. Just as I start to think I’m turned around, I find the big dipper and a comfort settles in as does Dex. He sits down next to me and I ask, “What does your tattoo with the skull say?”

In Latin, he says, “Solum bonum decessura.”

“What does it mean?”

“Only the good die young.”

“When did you get it?”

“About a year ago.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he says, moving into a push-up, his face over mine. “I’d rather kiss you.” He lowers down and kisses me. It’s sweet, gentle, and wonderful, which is exactly opposite of how I really want him to kiss me.

I’m going to make figuring out what this is a priority tomorrow. Others may get hurt when I give this a real shot, but I can’t live tethered to the past. Just when he’s about to get up, I grab him, my hands at the back of his head and bring his lips to mine. I kiss him how I want to be kissed, and how I know he wants me to kiss him.

When our lips part, I intake the night air, savoring him on my lips. When he sits up, I do too before moving into the pool to face him. The shot is set on the edge, we clink our glasses, and finish the drink.

He lies on his stomach, resting his head on his crossed arms. “What time do you have to be home?”

“Midnight.”

“That’s two hours. Wanna make out?”

A laugh escapes, filling the serene surrounding. “Heck yeah, I do.” Lifting up, I get out of the pool as he rolls onto his back. I stand above him, offering him a hand to get up. He accepts and stands, but quickly pulls me over to the hot tub. We climb in one at a time and I sit, settling on his lap. His hands hold onto me as his head dips back a bit, his eyelids growing heavy, as his focus on me intensifies. “You’re so fucking sexy.” He licks his lips. Watching him makes me clench, wanting those lips on me.

With one hand on my back and the other on my hip, he bucks beneath me, then brings me to him, our lips pressing together. Our words are replaced by the bubbling water, kisses, and soft sighs of pleasure. His tongue is strong and dominant, wanting to be felt, to feel, and I oblige.

Large hands cover my breasts and he squeezes gently. I take control as our kisses find purchase against our craving bodies. I run my fingers through his hair, and my nails down his back. His muscles dance under my touch, each tensing and releasing.

With his arms wrapped around the back of my shoulders, his hips join mine. The friction leading to a deeper desire, a desire I try to lessen to save us both the dissatisfaction we’re gonna end up with. But it’s impossible to hold back when he’s giving so much.

That spot. That spot. That spot. The perfect spot being teased and coaxed until I tug his hair, pressing myself against him as I tighten my legs around him. My head drops back and his breath is warm as he covers me with hot kisses. His hands grab a hold of my hips. “God, Rochelle. I want you to be inside you. I want you so much.”

Goosebumps cover my skin as his words become the only air I need. As I’m coming down from my own bliss, I want the same thing. I want him so badly. Before I can say anything his movements become erratic, his fingers digging into the flesh where my hips meet my ass. “So close,” he says, his forehead against my collarbone. “Oh fuck. Yes.” My shoulders are grabbed again and I’m pushed down on top of him.

His arms fall away as he leans back, closing his eyes. When he opens them, he grins, it’s lazy and beautiful. Bringing me closer, he kisses me just like the first kiss tonight—deep and sensual, passionate just like the man.

“Sorry about the hot tub,” I tease.

“Don’t be. It was hot,” he puns.

“The orgasm or the water?”

“Both.”

“I agree.” Feeling very comfortable here.

* * *

My body is relaxed and my eyes heavy as he walks me to my car. “Do you want me to drop you off so you can get your car?”

“No, I’ll get it tomorrow.”

His hips press into mine, my car solid behind my back. I say, “This was a good night.”

“A very good night,” he replies, kissing my neck. “When do we get to do it again?”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“Not soon enough.”