“It was nothing. Nothing happened.” Dax lifted the bar and grunted out another set of ten reps. A loud clang rang out as he set the barbell back in its cradle. Lowering his arm he wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist and inhaled with determination. “I just need to forget about it.”
This was not a new conversation. He was sure that Al was tired of hearing Dax talk about, pick apart, and rehash the tragically un-sordid night. If something, anything had actually happened on the non-one-night-stand-night, then that would be a different story. He wouldn’t be obsessing over it or the fact that he was unable to get over it and Al wouldn’t have to suffer through another early morning bitch session.
But that wasn’t the case. Dax was a broken record and Al was just going to have to deal. The cold, hard truth was that night and the woman he’d spent it with had plagued him since the morning he’d woken up alone with a napkin from the bar that he owned lying on his chest with words that were as simple as they were final:
“Thank you for last night. It was amazing.
I’ll never forget it or you.”
One thing was damn sure, he hadn’t been able to forget it or her.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to move on and put her out of his mind. He had. He’d hung out with a dozen women—hot, sexy, willing women—but he hadn’t sealed the deal with any of them.
Dax couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone months without hooking up. He’d had a healthy appetite for sex since he was fifteen and lost his virginity to his older, more experienced seventeen year old neighbor Ashley Noble. Since then there hadn’t been a shortage of women who wanted the same thing from him that he wanted from them, bumping and grinding fun. That was it.
He grunted as he tensed his body and straightened his arms, holding the bar above him. His biceps burned, and shook as he bent his elbows lowering the barbell down to his chest and then pushing it back up. Then repeating the motion nine more times to complete his eight rep. The energy he expended did nothing to distract him from the empty ache that he feared was now a permanent resident in his chest reminding him just how empty, how hollow he felt.
Since he was in his late teens he’d been accused of being unable to commit, even been labeled a womanizer and a man-whore. The titles had never bothered him. In fact he embraced them, they became part of his identity. He enjoyed sex and believed variety was the spice of life. He never wanted to commit to one meal when he could take his plate and sample an endless selection from the buffet table. He wasn’t breaking hearts. He wasn’t a player. He wasn’t lying to anyone. He never led anyone on.
Dax lived by a firm ‘Triple No’ policy: No strings. No attachments. No feelings. He made sure every woman he was with was clear on the rules he happily lived his life by before any boots got knocked.
The women who rode his hobby horse were hopping on for one thing and one thing only, mutual satisfaction. He was upfront about his expectations and they were too. It was a beautiful thing. Until the night that changed everything. The night he never saw coming with a woman that broke the mold and in the process broke and changed Dax himself.
He still had a firm ‘Triple No’ policy. But thanks to her it had turned into: No interest. No spark. No desire.
Since the morning he’d read that note, he hadn’t wanted to be with anyone except the woman who had disappeared from his life leaving only a napkin as a souvenir. Not the hot blonde that he met outside the Yoga studio that made it clear her practice translated into flexibility in the bedroom that she wanted to demonstrate. Not the voluptuous brunette that rear-ended his SUV and had made it clear that she had no problem with him rear-ending her. Not the sexy redhead he met at the gym who offered to prove that she was all natural by letting him confirm that the carpet matched the drapes.
All of these girls had wanted him and he should have wanted them. But all he’d felt was nothing. No interest. No spark. No desire. The only person that he had any interest in, the only person he felt any spark with, the only person that inspired any desire in him was the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about…and it was starting to fuck with his head.
Shaking his head he forced himself to face reality. “I’ve gotta move on. Put her and that night in the rearview, right?”
When Dax’s question was met with silence he turned his head to the side and saw two very unimpressed brown eyes staring back at him.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Dax defended, “You don’t understand because you got more action than I did that night. She couldn’t keep her hands of off you.”
“Wrruff!” Al Capone, Dax’s white English bulldog, responded with a deep, proud bark.
“Oh, now you have something to say.” Dax wanted to believe that his dog, his loyal companion, wasn’t rubbing his face in the fact that he’d spent the night snuggled up with Ginny, getting petted, getting kissed, getting to be in her lap, while Dax had sat on the other end of the couch wishing he was the one between her legs getting showered with attention…he wanted to believe it—but he wasn’t so sure.
Dax returned his attention to his lifting, hoping, he could at the very least, lose himself in the repetitive task. It didn’t work but he knocked out two more sets before sitting up and taking a swig from his water bottle. His muscles screamed from the punishment they’d taken as a result of him trying to exorcise his demons with exercise as he stood and crossed the cement floor of the make-shift gym he’d set up in his basement to the stairs that led to his living space.
Before heading upstairs he caught his reflection in the full length mirror that had already been there when he purchased the house a year ago.
When he’d hit puberty, in what seemed like an overnight transition, he’d gone from a tall, lanky kid to having a lean athletic frame. Playing football in high school, doing two-a-days and hitting the weights had built on what he naturally had. Joining the Marines and undergoing their Special Forces training had taken his fitness to the next level, he’d bulked up and put on a good twenty pounds of muscle.
But the man whose reflection he saw now was a chiseled, cut version of the man he was in the Corps. He was in the best shape of his life thanks to him spending every free minute he had trying to exhaust himself so he would have even a shot at putting Ginny’s angel face and sin-worthy body out of his mind long enough to fall asleep and rest. To have a moment of peace.
It didn’t help that Ginny AKA Virginia Valentine was a country singer whose face was plastered on every gossip magazine with her “boyfriend” Hollywood bad-boy Derek St. Vincent. Every time he saw another shot of the two of them, he wanted to punch something. Hard.
The night that Ginny had come home with Dax she’d explained that her relationship with Derek was for publicity only. They never confirmed nor denied on record, which only fueled the press. It was a mutually agreed upon, mutually beneficial arrangement. They showed up to events together, were “spotted” in public to raise both of their profiles. She’d said it was her manager’s idea and she’d gone along with it, but the look in her eye had told him that she wasn’t happy about it.
At the time, he wanted to ask her more about it, but he hadn’t. He wanted her to open up to him when she was ready. He’d honestly believed that the night they were sharing was the first of many. He’d been wrong.
The alarm sounded on his phone which was attached to his armband and he took the stairs two at a time. Al followed behind him, panting and slobbering with each step trying to keep up. Normally Dax would wait for his four-legged beast to catch up, but this morning he didn’t have the time. He was due at The Plate, the restaurant and bar he was one third owner of, for a morning staff meeting in twenty minutes and then he had to head to Elite Protection, where he worked as private security specialist, for a risk assessment meeting. His last bodyguard gig had wrapped up the previous week and his new assignment started today.
It wasn’t a full-time job. He was a contract employee. Dax liked as much variety in his work as he liked in his women. In add
ition to The Plate he co-owned Freedom, a bar in New Orleans and had flipped several properties while he’d lived in Louisiana. Since moving to Harper’s Crossing he’d bought the house he was currently renovating and living in. He’d finished the bottom floor which included one bedroom and the master bed and bath but he still had a lot to do on the second story, which held two bedrooms and the upstairs bathroom. Once he finished he’d put it up for sale and move on to his next project.
That was his life. Moving on from one thing to the next. He finished a project and found another one to put his time and energy into. He didn’t get sentimental or stuck. Not in places and sure as hell not to people.
“So why the hell do I feel superglued to her?” he asked Al, who flopped onto his body pillow in the corner of the bedroom as Dax tossed a pair of jeans, boxer briefs, and a button up shirt on the bed.
A yawn was the only response from his canine sidekick before Al closed his eyes and started snoring.
“Good talk.” Dax shook his head at Al as he walked past the dog who could fall asleep so fast Dax had worried for a short time that he was narcoleptic to the bathroom.
He pushed out of his sweats and turned on the shower.
As he waited the few minutes it took for the water to heat up flashes of Ginny kept popping out in his mind like targets in the virtual reality training course that had simulated combat. He was thinking about the plumbing he needed to do upstairs and out of nowhere her full, red lips would spring out. He was going over the new menu items they were considering adding to the lunch specials and her eyes would come out of nowhere. He was considering what he was going to make for dinner and bam, her long legs would materialize with such detail in his mind’s eye that like a 3D movie he wanted to reach out and touch them.
When he stepped into the shower he leaned on the tiled wall and dropped his head letting the hot stream run over it. As the pulsing spray beat down on him he tried to ignore the fact that he was rock hard thanks to his mental pop-up book featuring all things Ginny. Getting off when he had places to be wasn’t really his MO, but since he had no desire to walk around with a massive erection for the rest of the day, and not feeling confident it would go away on its own thanks to his newly acquired celibate lifestyle, he figured the best thing to do was take matters in his own hands.
As he wrapped his fingers around his shaft he stopped trying to fight thinking about Ginny, concentrating on her instead. His body was already primed as he gripped himself tighter and began stroking up and down. He relaxed and let his imagination run free and it ran straight to the woman that had inspired it in the first place.
Over his twenty-eight years he’d acquired quite an extensive collection of images and go-to fantasies in his spank bank. They ranged from women and experiences he’d personally had to ones he’d yet to check off his erotic bucket list. In the past, it wasn’t unusual for him to go months, even years without using the same scenario or visuals to get himself off.
But that was before his one-night-not-stand with Ginny. Since then all of his fantasies had starred one person and one person only. The only variety was what activity they were engaged in and what location they were at.
This morning his one track mind headed straight to a destination he was all-too familiar with…his couch. In his mind’s eye he saw Ginny sitting on the same place, wearing the same white cotton dress and cowboy boots she had in real life. But that is where his memory took a fork in the road onto Fantasy Lane.
Instead of what actually happened, which was nothing of a sexual nature, he asked her, “What are you wearing under your dress?”
There was a catch in her breath as she answered, “Nothing.”
With an authoritative tone he instructed roughly, “Show me.”
At his provocative request she licked her lips nervously and her eyes dropped down to her lap as a faint blush rose on her cheeks. His heart hammered beneath his chest as he watched her fingers brush the hem of her dress and begin slowly pulling the fabric up revealing first her creamy thighs, then the sexy flare of her hips and finally the sweet curve of her waist.
Every cell in his body throbbed with pleasure as she paused, bunching the material below her breasts. Her clear blue eyes met his as she crossed her arms and lifted them, tugging the dress up and over her head releasing the most incredible, full pair of breasts he’d ever seen.
She wasn’t lying, she didn’t have anything on beneath her dress. No panties. No bra. She sat before him completely bare, with her arms at her sides and her knees pressed together. Her chest rising and falling in a shorter pattern as her breathing grew shallow.
Dax let his gaze roam her naked body. His hungry eyes tracing the swell of her breasts tipped with hard, pink nipples that had his mouth watering with the need to cover them with his lips and suck. To brush his tongue over and lick. To pull between his teeth and nip with enough pressure to have her body begging for more.
With renewed arousal surging through him he continued his visual journey down past her mounds along her taut stomach and stopped just below her belly button.
“Spread your legs,” he roughly commanded.
She sucked in a startled breath, but did as he asked.
Like a beacon calling him home, her sex glistened between her legs. He let his eyes travel up her seam to the patch of brown curls that sat above her dewy flesh and back down to the base of her entrance.
“Touch yourself,” he gritted out, his voice husky with passion.
A soft, needy sigh escaped her as her hand moved to her slippery softness. Her fingers slid along her petal-soft folds and traveled up to her clit. When she began brushing her forefinger back and forth over the distended nub Dax felt himself return to reality as lightning bolts of pleasure shot through him. His orgasm slammed into him and he stiffened in release.
After the last jolt of pulsing climax claimed him he released his flesh and braced his hands on the shower tile as he caught his breath. He was still recovering, returning to the here and now when he heard Al barking ferociously.
Al only barked like that when he was overly excited or in guard dog mode. Since there was nothing for his bulldog to get that happy about, Dax was sure there was something wrong. A familiar calm that came with the flood of adrenaline that he’d felt when he was heading into black ops with his division rushed through him now as he shut the water off and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist.
He stalked down the hall and his six foot-four frame allowed him to eat up the distance to the front door where Al was posted and now howling in just a few purposeful strides.
“Quiet,” he spoke in a low tone and Al let out a small whine before sitting down and looking up at Dax.
Leaning forward he fully expected to see someone working the lock, trying to break into his house. He was more than prepared to handle an intruder.
What he wasn’t prepared for was who was actually there. Standing on his porch was the woman that had haunted his dreams, infiltrated his mind, and drove him to the brink of insanity. He shut his eyes and opened them again thinking this must be a mirage. That he was still living in his fantasy. When he opened them again she was still standing there, her weight shifted from one foot to another.
On auto-pilot he reached for the doorknob, turned it and opened it.
Before it was even open a few inches Al was up in the air, jumping with excitement.
Dax watched as the woman that he’d dreamed of day and night, that had left him with only a note bent down and caught Al in her arms. “Hello, Mr. Capone, did you miss me? I missed you. I missed you so much!”
“Ginny,” he rasped and that’s when he noticed a single suitcase sitting beside her.
Her blue eyes lifted to his beneath a bed of dark lashes. When they met his a small, tentative smile pulled at her lips as she said, “Hi, I missed you too.”
Other Titles by Melanie Shawn
THE CROSSROADS SERIES
My First – Book 1
My Last – Book 2
My Only – Book 3
My Everything – Book 4
Tempting Love – Book 5
Crazy Love – Book 6
Actually Love – Book 7
Fairytale Love – Book 8
My Love – Novella 8.5
All He Wants – Book 9
THE HOPE FALLS SERIES
Sweet Reunion – #1
Sweet Harmonies – #2
Sweet Victory – #3
Home Sweet Home – #4
One Sweet Day – Novella #4.5
Snow Angel – #5
Snow Days – #6
Snowed In – #7
Let It Snow – #8
Perfect Kiss – #9
Secret Kiss – #10
Magic Kiss – #11
Lucky Kiss – #12
Christmas Wish – Holiday Novella #12.5
WISHING WELL, TEXAS SERIES
Teasing Destiny – Book 1
Convincing Cara – Book 2
Discovering Harmony – Book 3
About the Author
Melanie Shawn is the writing team of sister duo Melanie and Shawna. Originally from Northern California, they both migrated south and now call So Cal their home.
All He Needs – Ace & Stephanie (Crossroads Book 10) Page 23
