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“That’s better.” Dex’s body molds to my back, his hands gently rubbing my shoulders. “You seemed sad earlier.”
I turn to face him. “I’ve been thinking about my mom all day.”
He nods slowly. Almost solemn now. “I thought that might have been it.”
I flap my hand wildly in the air toward the staircase. “She would’ve loved doing all the girly stuff with Libby.” I huff out a sad laugh. “My dad would have embarrassed Libby by lecturing Troy, but he would’ve gotten a kick out of her butterfly eyes, I think.”
“They were pretty spectacular,” Dex agrees.
“Thanks for letting me get that out.” I wave my hands again, suddenly feeling out of control. “I didn’t want to mention it to Libby.”
“You can always tell me anything, Emily.”
I study him for a few beats. “I didn’t have to tell you, though. You knew.”
“You seemed sad. I thought that’s what it might be.”
This is the right moment.
“Come sit with me.” I take his hand and lead him over to the couch.
I tuck myself into the corner and Dex sits right next to me. A faint whiff of his crisp cedar scent tickles my nose. I lean in closer. “I want to talk to you about something.”
His eyebrows pinch together. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
He reaches for me, sifting his hands through my hair. “Come closer.”
“I’m right here.”
He shifts and presses me back against the arm of the couch. Our lips fuse together. He tilts my head, deepening the kiss, slowly moving his lips against mine. A primal groan of pleasure rumbles through him.
“Dex, wait.” I press my hand to his chest. “I…I want to talk to you about something.”
Desire burns in his eyes. His thumb brushes my bottom lip. “Want to take this somewhere else?”
Heat races over my skin. Maybe this conversation can wait. No, no, it can’t. It’s too important. “Yes. I mean…no.”
“Do you have a basement?” he asks.
That snaps me out of my lust fog. “Yes, but it’s where spiders go to elect their leaders, not where you’d want to erect a sex room.”
He shakes with laughter. “That’s not why I asked, but thanks for the warning.”
“Dex.” Frustration bleeds into my voice. “I’m serious. I need to talk to you about something.”
Concern darkens his expression and he pulls away, resting his hand on my leg. “What?” he asks carefully.
I stare at him, not sure why he seems to think I’m about to deliver bad news. I curl my fingers in his T-shirt and gently tug. “Move in with me.” I say the words quickly, so I don’t lose my nerve. “Well, move in with us.”
He blinks.
“I know you have the apartment close by. We could wait instead if you want. But you’re already here all the time.” I keep babbling to fill the awkward silence. “Libby’s done with school in another year. You know I want to sell this place. You and I could find our own apartment or house. Later, or if you don’t want to…”
Oh my God, what am I even talking about?
Why isn’t he saying anything?
“It was just a thought,” I say quietly, wishing the couch would open up and swallow me into the abyss. “But if you think it’s too soon that’s okay. I understand.”
That’s it. I’m out of words.
And he still hasn’t moved a muscle or responded.
“I know we don’t have a big garage,” I try again. “But I can clean out all the junk so you have a place to work on your bike or store it or whatever…”
Why am I still trying to convince him? If he doesn’t want to live together, why force it?
“I don’t care about the garage,” he finally says.
“Okaaaay.” I draw the word out until it’s almost a question.
“I care about you,” he says. “Of course I want to live with you.” He glances over his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay with that? Libby’s comfortable with me moving in?”
I nod quickly, afraid I’ll cry if I open my mouth. “I already talked to her. She was very much in favor of the idea.”
His lips curl into a slight smirk. “I’m definitely buying her a car for graduation.”
“What?” All my nervous energy rushes out of me in the form of high-pitched laughter.
“Nothing.” He takes my hand in his. “You’re sure you want to sell your house?”
I look around, thinking of all the memories hiding throughout the house. Many good ones. But a heaviness has always lingered. The reason Libby and I ended up living here—our parents’ death. The reason we inherited the place—my aunt’s death.
“I need a fresh start. Something not tinged with sadness,” I whisper.
Concern softens his intense expression. “What about something new? A place where you get to choose every detail?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” he clasps his hands together and rests his elbows on his thighs like he’s settling in for a long conversation, “you’ve seen the property around the clubhouse. Most of the brothers built homes for their ol’ ladies there. I think Rock proposed to Hope by showing her the property he wanted to build on, actually.” His brow wrinkles for a second. “Z had just started building his place when he got sent to run Downstate. But he finished it anyway, so he, Lilly, and Chance have somewhere to stay when they visit.” His lips quirk. “That isn’t our raunchy clubhouse.”
