Uninhibited

by Melody Grace

  I’ve never seen anything like it.

  “This place is incredible,” I tell him, amazed.

  “Thanks.” Dex smiles again, more relaxed. “I spent six months on the plans, we only finished at the beginning of the year.”

  I blink, surprised. “You mean, you designed it?”

  He nods. “My brother, Ash, runs a real estate company. He found the land and hooked me up with the architects.”

  I’m even more impressed. Everything about this place is a study in contrasts: bold life, and precise control. The bright graffiti art on the blank, minimal walls; the line of expensive-looking guitars mounted as precious as art beside the gleaming grand piano in the corner.

  I drift over to the windows and find one of them pushed wide open, leading out to a floodlit deck area overlooking a large pool on the edge of the beach, the water glowing with rippling aqua light against the dark shadows of the bay.

  I clutch the deck railing and breathe in the cool night air, trying to corral my fluttering, nervous emotions. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or say now; this situation is so completely over my head.

  As if he can hear my internal debate, Dex steps outside. I listen to his footsteps approaching, my body tensing with expectation as he leans on the railing next to me, his bare arm brushing mine.

  “So…” he murmurs, his voice like whiskey, burning through my bloodstream. “Here you are, at last. What finally changed your mind?”

  “Maybe I just felt like a break.” I try to sound casual, like I’m used to running off to hang out with complete strangers all the time. “A chance to get away from it all.”

  “Don’t bullshit me.”

  I turn my head in shock at his directness.

  “This is me,” Dex continues, his expression darkening. “I know you, remember? I know how sweet your lips are, and how your body feels, pressed against me.”

  I inhale sharply. His face is shadowed, staring down at me, all dark angles and glittering intent.

  “I know the moaning sound you make when you’re close to the edge,” Dex continues, leaning closer, his smile turning deadly. His lips graze my ear, sending shocks of awareness spiraling through my body.

  “I know how you taste.”

  I stumble back from him, my cheeks flushing hot. “I forgot how you do that,” I manage to say.

  “Tell the truth?” Dex looks amused.

  “Talk dirty,” I correct him.

  He laughs. “Oh baby, that wasn’t dirty. Not even close.” Dex opens his mouth as if to say something, then pauses and shakes his head. “You must be hungry.” He changes the subject so fast, my head spins. “C’mon, let’s go find something to eat.”

  I leap at the chance to put some distance between us, and pull myself together again, but as I dart past him, back into the house, his voice echoes after me.

  “After all, you’re going to need your energy.”

  6.

  Dex assembles us a simple dinner of bread, meats, and cheeses, laid out on a huge farmhouse table in the formal dining room.

  “You could fit fifty people in here,” I remark, glad for the space as I take a seat on the opposite side of the table to him. Yet somehow, even with five feet of solid oak between us, I feel on edge, my body attuning to his presence, aware of every movement and gesture he makes.

  “Maybe even a hundred,” Dex agrees with a wry grin. “As long as they don’t mind getting up close and personal.” He gives me a look that says he’s noticed just how far I’ve chosen to sit from him. Then he shrugs, “But I’ve never tried. This place is just for me. The only people who’ve ever visited are my family. And you,” he adds after a moment.

  I blink. “Sure. I bet you say that to all the girls,” I tell him lightly, filling my plate with crusty French bread and some delicious herbed olives. “I bet you’re swinging from the chandeliers every weekend.”

  He arches an eyebrow at me. “Chandeliers aren’t really my style, sweetheart. And is that what you think of me? That I’m out here, partying twenty-four seven?”

  I pause. “No,” I say slowly. For all his reckless spontaneity, I can see that there’s something deeper lurking beneath Dex’s surface. A dark undertow, the shadows of a scar that hasn’t healed. “I guess I don’t know what to think of you,” I admit. “I’ve never met a rock star before. Your life couldn’t be more different from mine.”

  I try to imagine Dex getting up at six every morning to go to the gym, and then heading to a desk at work by eight, double-checking expense reports and eating salad from a takeout box at lunch.

  I have to hold back a laugh.

  “What?” Dex asks me, looking curious.

  I shake my head, swallowing back the giggle. “Nothing, I was just trying to picture us trading places,” I explain. “You arguing with my business partner over wholesale silk prices.”

  “And you partying until dawn, naked in the pool at the Chateau Marmont in LA,” Dex finishes for me. “Although, that I’d like to see,” he adds with a smirk.

  I have to laugh at the idea. “Never going to happen.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” Dex eyes me thoughtfully. He leans back in his seat, tilting his head to watch me with a slow-burn gaze that sets my blood burning hot in my veins. “I think you’ve got a wild streak in you. In fact, I’m sure of it.”

  “The wildest thing I ever did was get on the back of your motorcycle,” I tell him, a note of regret creeping into my voice.

  “Then you came to the right place.” Dex gives me a wolfish smile. “We’ll make a rebel of you yet.”

  His eyes meet mine, and I gulp in a nervous breath. It’s been lingering between us, unspoken, ever since I arrived: the reason I’m here, the point of his proposition. I feel self-conscious even thinking about it, but we both know one thing.

  I didn’t come here to talk.

  “How’s this going to work?” I blurt. I know I sound naive, but I figure I have no choice now but to press on. “I mean, I’ve never done anything like this before. You know I don’t have much experience with guys,” I add, looking down.

  Try next to none. Aside from losing my virginity in a drunken college fumble, my sex life has been non-existent.

  “First, you need to relax.” Dex’s calm voice cuts through my tangled nerves. I glance up to find him watching me gently, like I’m a skittish deer about to bolt. “You’re over-thinking this,” he tells me softly. “It’s just us, we’ve been here before. Except instead of being stuck in a crowded city with our real lives making demands all day, we’re here, with space to breathe. And instead of just a few hours to get to know each other, we have days. A whole week.”

  “One week,” I repeat slowly. A plan, that’s what I need to hear. Some structure to make sense of this bizarre situation.

  He chuckles. “Don’t do that. I can see your brain ticking over already, trying to fit this in a neat little box.”

  “But if we lay out some ground rules,” I start to protest.

  Dex shakes his head. “No rules,” he says firmly. “We’ll be honest with each other about how we’re feeling, but there’ll be no limits, apart from the ones you absolutely need to set.”

  Limits?

  “You mean…?” I stop, thinking of the books I’ve read. My stomach curls in a delicious knot.

  “I’ll always respect your boundaries.” Dex gives a wicked smile. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t have some fun testing them.”

  I reach for my glass and take a gulp of cold water. “This is a lot to process,” I mutter, my heart pounding.

  He smiles, getting to his feet. “Like I said, you’re over-thinking this. It’s not about a purpose or a plan. Except my plan to make you scream the house down in pleasure,” he adds with a wink.

  I laugh, glad to break the tension.

  “That wasn’t a joke, sweetheart,” Dex murmurs. “It was a promise.”

  My laughter dies on my lips. My hand shakes, and I lose my grip on my water glass. It plunges towa
rds the floor, but at the last second, Dex reaches out to grab it. He places it down on the table.

  “You look exhausted,” he says smoothly, as if nothing just happened. “Let me show you to the guest room.”

  Guest room?

  I can’t help but feel a strange pang of disappointment as I follow Dex back through the house. He picks up my bag from where he left it by the door, and continues down a hallway to a room at the end. “I thought you’d like this one,” he says, opening the door and flipping on the lights. “You can’t see now, but it has the best view of sunrise in the morning.”

  I step inside the spacious room. The same balance of modern and vintage extends in here, with a velvet-tufted headboard on the king-sized bed, and crisp white linens that match the pale walls and moroccan shag carpet on the bare floorboards.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say, looking around. “Thank you.”

  There’s a pause. I turn back to Dex, waiting for what, I’m not sure. The air pulses between us, an energy that makes me want to step closer to him, to reach out and—

  “Well, goodnight then,” Dex says, clearing his throat. He turns away to leave.

  “But—” I stop.

  He turns back.“What is it?”

  “It’s nothing.” I look away. My cheeks flush, and I’m sure they betray the skitter of my heartbeat, rising fast in my chest.

  “I thought we agreed,” Dex tells me, his eyes flashing darker. “You don’t hide what’s going on behind those hazel eyes, sweetheart. If this week is going to be real, we have to be honest with each other.”

  I gulp. He’s right. Our connection from that night was so strong in part because I felt free enough to tell him how I really felt. Somehow, on the drive out here, in the weeks that passed away from him, that bravery has curled right back up into a tight ball in my chest. Anxious. Afraid. All the things I don’t want to be anymore.

  Especially not with him.

  “You haven’t touched me,” I manage to say. My words come out nearly a whisper, but I force myself to continue. “All evening, you’ve barely touched me. I thought…”

  I stop, the embarrassment too much.

  Dex gives me a wolfish smile. “You thought I would rip your clothes off the minute you stepped through the door?”

  “No!” I protest, then pause. Honesty, remember? I bite my lip. “Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.”

  I look around for some escape, already feeling humiliated, but Dex closes the distance between us, until he’s standing just inches away.

  I catch my breath, looking up at him, at that gorgeous face—all strong angles and dark intensity. I can feel the heat radiating from his chiseled muscles, his overwhelming physical presence hitting me like a tidal wave.

  This. This is what I’ve been waiting for, this is the reason I drove all the way out here. The feelings coursing through me are like no other; a reckless jumble of nerves and desire and anticipation, as if I’ve awoken from a hundred-year sleep. My body sways towards him as if from its own volition, waiting for his glorious kiss.

  Dex slowly reaches up and places one fingertip against my lips.

  The touch jolts through me, a shiver of sensual memory. In a flash, I remember the last time he touched me—his fingers digging into my thighs, his tongue sending me to heaven and back.

  “If you want me, I’m right here,” Dex whispers in a rasp. He presses his finger gently against my lips, and I part them, hypnotized, frozen in his forcefield as he slowly slides his fingertip into my mouth.

  Oh.

  I feel the rough, foreign rasp of skin, hot against my tongue. A new bolt of awareness spirals through me, prickling the skin along my back and arms. My nipples tighten, aching under my dress, and I feel the heat gather in a molten pool, low between my thighs.

  All from a single touch.

  He steps back.

  His absence washes over me in a rush of cool air. I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, disappointment crashing over me.

  “Is this a game?” I ask, my head spinning. “I don’t understand.”

  “You came here for a reason, didn’t you?” Dex gives me a curious grin. “To forget about him.”

  I nod. I didn’t tell Dex much about Hunter, only that I was in love with a man who didn’t feel the same way.

  “Are you thinking about him now?” Dex asks. “Have you thought about him even once since you arrived?”

  I blink. “No,” I say softly. And I haven’t. Dex has consumed my every sense, every thought. Waiting for his touch, wondering when I’ll taste his kisses again. There hasn’t been room in my mind to think of Hunter, or wonder what he’s doing.

  It’s all been Dex. Everything.

  “So you won’t kiss me?” The question slips from my lips before I can hold it back, my voice edged with disappointment.

  Dex chuckles. “Think of it as your first lesson. The only way you get anything in this world is if you reach out and take it. Every break, every chance I got, it was because I reached out and grabbed with both hands.”

  My eyes drift down his strong arms to those hands. Strong and tanned, large and rough. I wouldn’t believe they could be capable of such delicate sensuality if I hadn’t felt their teasing whispers for myself.

  I want them on me again. Grasping tight, stroking softly. I want to be the instrument they play.

  “So, what? You want me to make the first move?” I swallow, lifting my eyes to him. “I thought I did that already. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  Dex smiles. “Yes, you are, sweet Alicia, and don’t think I’m not mighty glad about that. But you need to learn to trust what you feel. To take what you want. When it comes to matters of the heart, I’d always rather regret the things I do than the things I didn’t.”

  Regret…I stare at him, still frozen. Even though he’s standing right in front of me, all but ordering me to kiss him, I find I can’t move an inch.

  Doesn’t he realize it goes against everything I’ve done my entire life? Never make the first move, never show a man I want him. Hiding my feelings, day after day. It’s second nature to me now, keeping it all locked inside. I couldn’t throw caution to the wind and undo a lifetime of waiting if I tried.

  “Think about it this way,” he adds, softening. “Your man, the one who’s caused you so much grief. What would have happened if you’d made a play for him, way back when this all began? What would have happened if you’d just gone after what you wanted, to hell with the consequences?”

  As my head spins, Dex gives me another grin. “Think about it, sweetheart. Goodnight.”

  He strolls away, closing the bedroom door softly behind him.

  I sink down on the edge of the bed, his words whirling in my mind.

  He’s right.

  Looking back, I can see it so clearly. If I’d been more honest about my feelings for Hunter, found some way to be bold, then none of this would have happened.

  If I’d found the courage one night to take his hand as he walked me back from the library, stopped him in the middle of that moonlit path, reached up, and given him a kiss.

  What’s the worst that could have happened?

  Maybe he would have awkwardly pulled away, explained that he didn’t feel that way about me. Or maybe we would have fallen into bed together, spent two or three nights in each other’s arms before those dark shadows consumed his eyes again and he cast me off for the next girl in his parade of self-loathing and destruction.

  It would have hurt. Even now I flinch from the thought of the humiliation, being rejected like that.

  But it would have been over.

  A brief sting. A couple of months feeling foolish and miserable at most; ducking away when I saw him around campus, or having to fake a nonchalant laugh. But compare that small injury to the years I’ve spent hanging on the end of every call or text. All those lonely nights spent wishing I was safe in his embrace. I would have moved on, healed my bruised heart and found someone else to love.

  Hun
ter wouldn’t have remained my fantasy, my safe way of hiding from the world and everything I could feel.

  I inhale in a shiver, the truth finally clear.

  Dex is right about everything.

  7.

  DEX

  I pace down to the water’s edge, needing to get away from the house—from her—before I do something that we both regret. Tension coils tight in every muscle in my damn body, and I let out a sharp growl of frustration. That girl doesn’t even realize how much control it’s taking to keep from yanking her body to mine, tangling that silken red hair in my fists and making real all the fevered fantasies that have plagued my brain since that night we spent together.

  Rip her clothes off the minute she stepped into the house? I wasn’t planning on letting her make it past the threshold.

  Ever since the moment I heard her sweet voice on the other end of the line, lust has been raging through my body, a wildfire burning out of control. Remembering all the ways I made her moan, the last time she was in my arms. Planning all the new pleasures I’m going to show her this time around.

  Craving her sweetness, the soft balm over the jagged edges of my used up, fucked up soul.

  I catch my breath, staring out at the dark ocean. After imagining it for so long, I still can’t believe she’s really here. I’d given up on ever hearing from her again. After she walked away, I was like a man obsessed. Hell, I even hired a private investigator to track her down for me before I realized it doesn’t make a damn piece of difference whether I knew how to find her.

  The point is, she didn’t want to be found. Not by me. She’d made it clear, she was hung up on some other man. The luckiest guy in the whole universe, and he doesn’t even know it. Talk about irony: I’ve got Grammy awards lined up on my shelf, supermodels on speed dial, and a garage full of luxury sports cars, but he’s got the one thing I don’t, at least, not yet.