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“I’m getting married to a stripper I met in Southampton. Will you be my best man?”
I gave him a dismissive glance over my shoulder. “Yes, as soon as I draw up your prenup.”
“Is that how you view true love? I thought you were running off to embrace your inner love child or some such bullshit.” He sat across from my desk, shaking his head of sun-bleached hair. All he needed was large golden dog beside him and a surfboard to complete the look.
“Wanting to do something different has nothing to do with embracing my inner child. And get your feet off my desk, you heathen.”
He didn’t move a muscle. “Stop watching me in the glass and face me.”
“Make me.”
“You know, this whole exchange is fascinating. I’d given up hope of you engaging in baser emotions like rage and lust like the rest of us mere mortals. And here you are, in the grips of both.”
I dragged my gaze away from the relentlessly sunny day to focus on Dex. He appeared positively delighted.
“I’m not enraged.”
“Oh, just got a sudden yen to redecorate?” He kicked my gold pen across the floor, and it rolled over the mirrored tiles. “Gotta say, I never did like that blotter. It screams yuppy.”
“Shut up.” But I laughed as I picked up said blotter and stuck it standing up out of the trash. The stupid thing had cracked in half.
I dropped into my chair. “I think I got dumped.”
“Your assistant quit early too.” He widened his eyes with false surprise. “Oh, are those events related?”
I flipped him off.
“I got the general drift when I walked in on you screaming about her doing questionable things to a part of your body that should only be treated with love and respect. I should’ve guessed she was kinky.” He shook his head. “You lucky bastard.”
“I was.” I rose to make coffee, even if it curre
ntly tasted like dirt.
I had to assume that was the direct result of heartbreak, since I knew the coffee was perfectly fine and had tasted superb yesterday when I was fresh off an orgasm high with the promise of more to come.
Now I faced an orgasm desert of indeterminate length, and even coconut-caramel coffee could not placate me.
“What did you do?”
“Hell if I know.” I pointed at the K-cups I’d so lovingly arranged in the basket. “Want?”
“You know I don’t drink your caramel shit. You don’t know what you did?”
“Other than we were closer than we’ve ever been, nope.” I banged the lid down on my Keurig.
He snorted. “Um, you barely know her. Closer than you’ve ever been in several days?”
“I don’t expect you to understand.”
“Do you?”
“No.” I watched the coffee pour into my mug. “But I know it’s real, because nothing else has ever felt like this.”
“Dude, we’ve all had one of those. Or a couple of them if we’re really lucky. The sex twists you all up into a pretzel and you’re ready to shave your head and take up residence in a hut somewhere if it means you can live on sweet, sweet love.”
I arched a brow as I tossed the spent K-cup and returned to my desk with my coffee. “I’m curious about your sex life, brother.”
“As you should be. I’m just saying, the haze clears. Those first few days or weeks, you’re ready to do whatever it takes to live in blissful harmony forever. Then you wake up some morning and you realize you hate how she chews. And that’s that.”
