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I turned away from him and realized that Dexter’s chair was empty now. A glance around the office told me that he’d vanished. “Where did Dexter go?” I demanded.
The guys looked around, Logan tensing and Slade’s face falling.
“He must have left while we were having our little debate,” Slade said with a guilty grimace.
Guilt of my own twisted my gut. I’d been so high on desire and the three guys’ attentions that I hadn’t really thought about how Dexter would feel in the middle of that whole scene. We’d probably made him horribly uncomfortable. He couldn’t have known the meeting was going to take that wild turn when even I hadn’t.
I should have considered his feelings more before going ahead with it.
“I’ll find him,” I said, turning toward the door. “The rest of you can continue your dick-measuring contest if you’re so committed to it. Just try not to start an actual brawl.”
“I think we’ll survive,” Beckett said, but he looked a bit concerned too. I didn’t think he’d have wanted to alienate any of my friends, regardless of my exact relationship with them.
I stepped out into the main room of the library, where the lights were dim and the atmosphere quiet. We’d invited Beckett over right before closing time so that we didn’t have to worry about any disturbances, and everyone else had left. The librarians trusted the Vigil guys to lock up after they headed out for the evening.
I didn’t see Dexter amid the shelves. I hurried through the library, sweeping my gaze down the aisles and over the tables up ahead. He hadn’t totally left the building, had he? If so, I’d have to send Logan and Slade after him, since he’d probably gone back to their apartment. I wouldn’t be able to apologize to him myself. That possibility gnawed at my gut.
Just as I reached the seating area, an odd noise reached my ears. It was muffled, but it sounded like a sharply drawn breath.
Spinning around, I saw I’d come up beside the library’s single-stall bathroom. The noise had come from in there. Dexter had ducked into the restroom?
I stepped closer, opening my mouth to call his name—and froze. The sounds that filtered through the door when I stood right next to it painted a very different picture from what I’d have assumed.
There was another rough breath, and a rhythmic rustling with the friction of flesh on flesh that my instincts recognized as a guy jerking off. Even as the understanding sank in, that guy—Dexter—let out a soft grunt and a mumbled name: “Madelyn.”
With those three syllables, every inch of my skin electrified. Holy shit.
He hadn’t left because he’d been upset at being roped into that scenario—he’d beenturned onby watching me with the other guys. In spite of how thoroughly I’d already been satisfied by all three of those other men, a tingle raced straight to my sex.
I’d been attracted to Dexter more with every day I’d spent in his presence. It’d just never occurred to me that he’d be interested in me that way. He’d never come on to me or flirted… but then, it was hard to picture the reserved, socially awkward guy doing that with anyone.
It shouldn’t have mattered. Ididalready have three guys I was totally into who were into me. But the thought of what could spark with Dexter too had my hand rising toward the door.
I’d already done something crazy. Why shouldn’t I see how far it could go? Dexter was a part of the group I’d found myself mixed up in even more than Beckett was. How did it make sense to push him aside from this part of our complicated relationship if I wanted him and he wanted me?
I had to know where he stood.
My knuckles tapped against the door. “Dexter?”
The rhythmic noises stopped, followed by a different sort of rustling that I assumed was him getting himself back into his pants. “Yeah?” he said, sounding unusually hoarse.
I wet my lips. I could do this. “Um, could—would you mind if I joined you? I think we should talk.”
There was a momentary silence. Then the lock clicked over. “You can come in.”
I eased into the stall tentatively. Dexter was standing by the sink, his stance tensed, the stark lighting turning his face even paler than usual beneath his messy curls other than the pink blotches where his cheeks had flushed. I stepped back to the other side of the stall to give him a little distance in case he wanted that.
“I noticed you’d left without saying anything,” I said, unsure of where to start. “I was worried that whole situation made you uncomfortable. I’m really sorry we didn’t check and make sure you were totally okay with it to begin with. But… now I’m thinking maybe you didn’t mind so much after all?”
The flush expanded across Dexter’s face. His gaze met mine for a typical brief instant before veering away. He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I didn’t mind,” he admitted haltingly. “I just—it was a little too much. I needed to… get my own feelings out of my system.”
That was one way of putting it. And I’d interrupted his attempt at release. My lungs squeezed with a different sort of guilt—but maybe if I pushed this conversation in the right direction, he’d get something that would fulfill his urges even better.
“Feelings for me?” I clarified.
Another darting gaze. “I don’t expect anything. I don’t know what I’m doing the way the other guys do. I have no idea how to be all suave or whatever. So you don’t need to—”
