The seconds stretched, their breathing loud and uneven. She shifted her wrapped foot to the floor and leaned closer to him, fingers reaching across the back of the sofa to touch his. “Why did you leave me that night? Really?”
“It was late. You were hurt. I was drunk.” He paused. “By the way, did you throw something at the door after I left?”
“Yes. The ice bucket. I was mad.” She paused. “It was more than that, the reason you left.” She’d seen it in his face.
He didn’t answer right away, then seemed to see she wouldn’t back down, so he spoke. “Earlier that night, I’d made a decision and I wanted to stick with it.”
“What was it? To go celibate?”
Dixon laughed. “No. Howard asked me if I was happy. I realized I wasn’t even close. I made plenty of money, but I didn’t love my job or my life.”
“You managed property, right?”
“Yeah. I ran some major office complexes. But what I did didn’t matter. I spent my evenings and weekends hunting down distractions—parties, clubs, sports, women. I wanted more.”
“So having sex with me in a luxurious suite made you feel like your life had no meaning?” She’d joked, but she was still hurt. His rejection had stemmed from a lecture from his judgmental brother.
Dixon laughed, a big boisterous sound that made her smile. “That didn’t come out right. You were injured. You were being a good sport about it, but you were suffering. You could have been killed. That sobered me. We were following a script—best man and maid of honor hooking up after the reception—and it didn’t feel right. I knew if I was going to change my life it had to start then.” He blew out a breath.
“I should be offended, but I’m not.” He’d gotten to the heart of it all. She had been playing a part, following through on her dare, and her ankle had hurt like crazy. “At least I was tempting,” she said. “Even though I reeked of seaweed and had an ankle the size of a watermelon?”
“Are you kidding? Of course I was tempted. I hit the lobby and started back up until I realized the codeine had probably knocked you out by then.” He studied her, his gaze heating up again. “I wanted you, Aubrey. Badly.” His eyes settled on her mouth. “I still want you.”
He gripped the fingers she’d extended and pulled her close enough to feel his breath on her face. Her heart was beating so hard her ribs hurt. Electricity and desire poured through her, washing away everything else.
Their mouths met. His lips were warm and firm, and he tasted of champagne again. All they needed to complete the memory was cold saltwater.
He braced her head, guiding her onto her back, still kissing her. Once she lay flat, his lips moved more urgently, his tongue seeking hers. Her head began to spin.
He broke off, pressing his lips against her throat. “What are we doing?”
“I don’t know, but it feels like that carnival ride—the centrifuge? The one where you’re plastered to the side of a drum and they drop the bottom and you know if they stop the ride, you’ll hit the ground like a stone.”
“So we want to keep going?”
“We do.”
This was exactly what she needed—to get lost in the arms of a man who would meet her intensity with his own.
She lifted her hips against his erection. His eyes closed in response, and when they opened, there was fire there. He seized her mouth with his own, covered her with his body. They moved against each other, slowly, but hungrily.
Aubrey was totally lost in the moment when Dixon froze. He raised his head to listen.
She listened, too, and heard crying. One of the girls was sobbing.
Dixon sprinted for the girls’ room. Aubrey followed, limping on her bruised foot, which throbbed again.
When she arrived, Dixon was sitting beside Ginger on her bed. “I want my mommy,” she wailed, her cheeks wet with tears.
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