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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dex set his hands on Kelsey’s slim hips. She was dressed so cute today, in a Christmas sweater with cats cavorting all over it chasing bows and ribbons, and her pretty blonde hair done up in some loose, fancy ponytail that left soft waves around her face.
Her apartment was just like her: soft and pretty, neat and carefully decorated. Everything was grey and cream and pink and purple. Even her little Christmas tree, a four-footer perched on a small table and tucked into the corner between the fireplace and the patio slider, was decorated in that color scheme.
She was the perfect picture of innocent sweetness. No matter how many times she insisted that she understood the darkness of a Bulls’ life, that she wasn’t frightened or threatened by the darkness ofhislife, he couldn’t help but worry.
How could he come home to a woman like her after a night when he’d done his darkest work and ever dare touch her again? Her father had said she had a light he wanted never to go dim. Dex saw that light, he saw it right now, glittering in her beautiful blue eyes. He could practically feel it, a warmth emanating from her that had nothing to do with temperature.
That light was trust and hope and a faith in the essential goodness of the world, and he couldn’t stand the thought of being the thing that made it go dark.
But he had no hope, no faith that the world was essentially good, or the people in it. He himself was proof to the contrary. So how could he not darken her?
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said aloud. It was the best way he could think of to encapsulate all his worries. He didn’t want to see her hurt, and he especially didn’t want tobeher hurt.
“Then don’t,” she replied.
It wasn’t that simple. “Kelsey …” He lifted his hands, hooked them around her slim arms, intending to break her hold of him. But she tightened her hold instead, forcing him to either give way or use force to break away. He held.
“You’re here. I’d realized that I need accept your ‘no’ and stop throwing myself at you, but then, tonight, you said you wanted to be here. Now you’re here. Don’t talk yourself out of what we both want.”
“I’m trying to do the right thing.”
“No, you’re not. You’re trying to be a hero.”
“What?” Now he did pull her arms from his neck and take a step back. “No, I’m not.”
Letting him make the distance, she stood where she was and crossed her arms. “Yes, you are. It’s what I said the other night, at your house. You’re trying to be noble and self-sacrificing, but you’re making decisions about what’s right forme, not what’s right for you. If being with me isn’t something you want foryou, okay. Just say that, then. Or don’t. Say your no however you want to, for whatever reason. I’ll stop trying. But if it’s no, then let it be no.Please. Don’t give me a sweet, thoughtful Christmas present and tell me you’d like to be with me if that’s not what you’re ready to do. Don’t offer to bring me home and be in my home like this and then be all conflicted and mopey.” She took a deep breath. “You know, this is hard for me. Not just because I keep opening myself up for you to back away over and over, but also, I’ve stayed away from guys for more than a year. After Greg. You’re the first guy I’ve been interested in since, and yeah, it feels a little like stepping onto a ledge. It’d be cool if you were standing beside me instead of behind me threatening to push me off.”
He wanted to be standing beside her. He was deeply concerned that being with him would push her off that ledge. All his warning bells were klaxons in his head—not to protect himself, but her. He didn’t know how to make them quiet.
“I’m trying to do the right thing,” he said again, mainly because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
But that was definitely the wrong thing. She huffed dramatically and raked a hand through her hair—which must have done something to mess up her fancy ponytail, because she snatched at it in an angry flurry, and suddenly her hair was loose, falling over her shoulders like golden clouds, and she was snapping a hair tie onto her wrist. She crossed her arms again. A calico kitten on her sweater seemed to perch atop them.
“Okay. I am a grown woman. I make my own decisions about my own life. Period. You are a grown man. You make your own decisions about your own life. Period. So this is the end of this stupid road we’ve been on for the past few weeks. We’re turning right or left, right here and right now. Right turn: you tell me that you want me the way I want you, and we go to bed and do something about that. Left turn: you tell me that youdon’twant to be with me, for whatever reason, and then you get out of my apartment and stopmessing with my head.”
He wanted her. Each moment he spent in her company, each new bit he learned about her—like this surprising steely, assertive streak—made him want her more. But could he have her, really, and not change her? They were sun and moon, day and night, light and dark.
He didn’t want to mess with her head. But his worries were far from eased.
Finally, in lieu of anything smarter or safer to say, he said, “I want you to understand who I am. You say you know, but you don’t. I need to tell you what I do, what I’ve done.
Her arms dropped, and she closed the distance between them. Setting her hand on his arm, she said, “If you need to tell me, I’ll listen. But I don’t need to know. You can keep your secrets. I understand how the club works.”
“You do need to know. If we do this, you need to know who I am.”
Still unconvinced, she shook her head. “First, I’m not in the mood to read between your lines. I need clarity. So if you’re saying you do want to be with me, I want you to say it in exactly so many words.”
“I want to be with you, but—”
“Nope,” she cut in. “Thatbutis an extra word. You can’t have it.”
He laughed. This little bit of spice made her sweetness all the more delightful. “Okay. In that case, my next point ishowever…”
“See, now you’re looking for loopholes.” She took a deep breath. “My dad told me he watched you skin a man’s arm. He got pretty vivid in the description. He thought that would change my view of you. It didn’t, becauseI understand the Bulls.”
“He told you that?” Jesus, Mav. Really?
