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TWENTY-FIVE
When I got backto my place, Dax was outside my house with a spray bottle of blue liquid and an old ratty towel, scrubbing the outside of my windows. He was so damn tall that he could even reach the tops of the windows, which I didn’t have a chance in frozen hell of doing. They hadn’t really been dirty in the first place, either, but I figured he was doing what Char had said—a version of stress-pacing.
He dropped the towel and bottle on the grass before crossing my yard in a few massive steps. He got there in time to open my door for me, and took my hand to help me out.
Before I could say anything, his arms were wrapped around me and his nose was buried against my neck.
Some emotion I couldn’t identify swelled within my chest, but I ignored it, and wrapped my arms tightly around him too.
“You haven’t decided to leave me because of Lisa, right?” His growl rumbled against my neck.
“I’m not leaving you. We need to talk about a lot of shit, though. Not because of Lisa—because of us.”
He sighed, but nodded an agreement against my neck. “Just tell me you’re not going to ask me not to see you again, alright? I won’t fucking survive that.”
My chest clenched tighter. “Of course not. That would suck for both of us.”
Dax swallowed roughly, still holding on to me.
What had been going through his mind while I was gone?
Suddenly I felt very, very guilty. I’d needed the time to process, but that wasn’t an excuse to leave him worrying.
“Let’s go inside,” I murmured.
He agreed, and we headed in. He didn’t take my hand or thread his fingers through mine; he was giving me space, I guess. I wasn’t sure whether I was glad or pissed about that.
We sat down on a couch together, and I felt the dread begin to descend on me. I didn’t want to hurt him—but I didn’t want to hurt myself, either.
“Just spill your thoughts, Sabrina,” he growled softly to me.
I bit my lip but nodded.
Right.
Just spill the thoughts.
“I don’t like not having the same feelings for you that you feel for me,” I started. “I hate knowing that you know me better than I know you, and that you love me when I’ve only just started getting to know you. I think we need to take a few steps back, and start just being friends. That way I can get to know you, so we can make this work without me feeling like I’m twenty steps behind. I want you to move back to your place until I know you well enough to be an active participant in the relationship.”
Dax’s forehead wrinkled.
“Those are valid emotions,” I nearly snarled at him.
His expression smoothed slightly. “Of course they are. Emotions are always valid, even if they’re not logical. But Sabrina, you could get to know me much quicker if we were living together. Even if all we did was some innocent cuddling at night, we could talk then. We could talk during meals, during breaks from work, during anything, really. If I move out, our relationship will slow down and be more painful for both of us. Time apart will make things worse, not better.”
My mind struggled to process what he was saying, but when it had, I realized I agreed with him.
He was right; stepping back a bit didn’t mean we couldn’t live together. Or talk a lot. Or enjoy our time together, even without sex.
I considered it, though. “We would need rules. No sex, no… well, no sex would probably do it. I just don’t want to be distracted by hormones; I want to understand who you are, you know? I want to see you clearly. And I don’t think I can do that if I keep getting distracted.”
“Alright, I can respect that. It’ll just make things hotter when we do finally have sex again, won’t it?” His voice was lightly teasing, and my lips curved upward a bit.
“Definitely.”
“So, what do you want to know about me?” Dax asked, draping an arm over the back of the couch as he leaned into the corner. There was space between our upper-bodies, though our knees and calves were still touching.
“What you do for work, for starters. I’ve never heard a damn thing about your job.”
