Game of Love(9)

“Wanna tell me about it?” he asked, but he already knew the answer. Her silent head shake confirmed his thoughts. “Just tell me this. Do I need to get dressed and go kill someone?”

She leaned against his chest and shook her head. Her hand pressed against his abs, and despite his best intentions, his body reacted to having her close again. He scooted away before she could notice and crouched to remove her boots.

“Let’s take these off.” He set her boots on the floor, as he’d done a million times when they were kids. He placed his hand on the couch, and she set hers on top of it.

“Old habits die hard, huh?”

He shifted his eyes from her hand and nodded. The cold, determined Ellie he’d seen earlier in the evening was gone, replaced with the vulnerable girl he’d known as a teenager. Her eyes softened, drawing him in, and he felt his numbness fall away.

“I’m not that girl anymore, Dexy. I don’t need to climb in your window.”

Of course she’d read his thoughts. He probably had his feelings written all over his face. If he couldn’t deny them, how could he expect to hide them from Ellie? She knew him better than anyone in the world did.

“Tonight just threw me for a loop, and I really had nowhere to go.” She sat up, and he slid in beside her.

Had he misread her? Or was she hiding again, too? “I know you’re not. But, Ellie, clue me in here. You can stay here as long as you need to or as long as you want to, but at least give me a hint as to what’s going on.”

She stared at him for a long time. Dex’s chest tightened as he waited. He’d pushed too hard. He should have let it go. He knew better. Hell, he knew better than to let his heart open to her again. She’d already crushed it twice, but he’d felt it soften with each passing second they were together.

“You have tattoos. Lots of them.” She reached up and traced the dragon that wrapped around his forearm. She nibbled on her lower lip and touched a larger, heavily scaled dragon that started above his biceps, its tail traveling lower in a sexy, dangerous sway across his muscle.

“I guess,” he said.

Ellie hesitated before reaching for the markings on the left side of his chest.

“It’s okay. You can touch them.” Every gentle stroke of her finger sent searing heat to him down below. She closed her eyes as she traced the fringe of the tattoo that rode over his shoulder and touched his collarbone. Christ, how he loved her touch. By the time they were teenagers, he’d craved so much more of her than just friendship, and when she’d come to him four years ago, he’d thought they’d finally fall into each other’s arms for good and he’d be able to finally show her how much he loved her. But at first she’d just wanted to be close to him. She needed him to hold her as he had when they were teens, and he respected that, because he’d needed it just as much as she had. But when they’d laid together as adults rather than teenagers, the love he felt for her multiplied, and he’d told her how he felt. And the next morning she was gone. He’d thought about what it would feel like to be touched by Ellie ever since, but nothing came close to feeling her delicate fingers trailing along his skin.

She drew her shaky hand back to her lap. “Why did you get so many?”

Because I needed to feel something after you left, and pain was better than nothing. “I don’t know. Tell me what happened, Ellie.”

She nodded and lowered her eyes to her lap. She drew her brows together, then clenched her eyes shut tight and blew out a breath. When she opened her eyes, she looked at him quickly—for a second, maybe—then dropped her eyes again.

Dex held his breath, unable to believe she might actually let him in.

“I woke up to the guy Dina brought home bent over me, with his awful breath in my face and his…He had no pants on.”

Dex pushed away from her, fully awake now. “Did he hurt you? Touch you?” He’d kill the bastard.

“No. I think he was still drunk and trying to figure out who was on the couch, but it freaked me out and brought up all sorts of memo—” She cleared her throat. “All sorts of awful things. So I took off.”

Dex pulled her close again. “I’m glad you had sense enough to come here.”

“I didn’t really have any other options. After I left, some guy stole my purse.” She tucked her feet beneath her and leaned against him.

“Jesus, El. Did you call the police?” Dex hated that she was going through this kind of shit. Ellie was such a good person. He remembered one day when they’d been taking one of their silent walks home from the bus stop and she’d seen a cat for the second day in a row, sitting in the tall grass by the creek. The next day she’d saved part of her lunch and given it to the cat. She’d done the same thing every day thereafter until she’d been sent away, at which point Dex began to feed the damn cat.

“No. I figured the guy was long gone, and then the only place I could think to go was here. I promise I’ll find another place to stay tomorrow.”

“Stay, Ellie. I like having you here.” He wrapped both arms around her and brought his legs up on the couch beside them. She nuzzled against him, and fifteen silent minutes later, she was breathing the peaceful rhythm of deep sleep. Dex couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt so whole and so scared at the same time. Oh wait. Yes, he could. He remembered it all too well. As he rested his cheek on her head, his heart already wrapped around her again like a cocoon, he knew she might do the same thing to him again, but having her in his arms was so much better than having her only in his dreams. He closed his eyes, willing to put his heart at risk one more time and praying she’d still be there in the morning.





Chapter Nine


ELLIE’S PHONE ALARM sounded at eight in the morning, startling her. She scrambled to pull her cell phone from her pocket and turn it off. Dex mumbled something and tightened his grip around her waist. Shit. What was I thinking? How could I let us get close again? And why do I want to crawl right back into your arms? She felt as if she’d slept for two days, even though she’d had only a few hours’ sleep, and she knew it was because she was with Dex. She peeled herself from his grip and stepped from the couch. He rolled over and she caught sight of his formidable erection. What was it with New York men and erections? Unlike the reaction she’d had the night before with the drunken stranger, she felt a thrill run through her.

The last time she’d slept beside Dex, she’d asked him if he’d love her forever, no matter where they were or who they were with. She’d thought she meant love her like a friend, but she’d realized as the word left her mouth that she hadn’t meant like a friend at all. Without hesitation, he’d smiled with that cockeyed, sexy grin of his and responded, You can always be sure of me. Always. He’d leaned over and kissed her then. A heart-stopping, toe-curling kiss that had scared the shit out of her. She’d felt his arousal against her belly, but he hadn’t made a move beyond the kiss, and she’d been too scared to. Dex had been her best friend, and she loved him. God, how I loved you. I had no choice but to leave you.

Ellie surveyed the living room. It looked different with the sunlight streaming across the hardwood and the fright of the evening not hovering around her. She saw more of Dex in the room. The leather couch was distressed. It wasn’t dark brown but a caramel color with low, thick wooden feet that gave it a homey, broken-in appearance. There were two large television screens and chunky wooden furniture with an enormous computer monitor on the top. She smiled as her eyes danced over stacks of gaming and computer magazines and piles of books.

She warmed at the sight of pictures of his family that were haphazardly placed around the room. She looked over the family photo that sat atop the marble mantel. His father’s stern eyes and stoic expression, above his starched white collar, contrasted sharply with his mother’s smiling eyes and long gray hair, which flowed wildly over the shoulders of her colorful bohemian blouse. She remembered each of his brothers, even though she’d only met Jack once or twice. They could have been cloned, their handsome faces and dark hair were so similar. But their eyes told different stories. His mother, Joanie, his brothers Kurt and Rush and his sister, Siena, had vibrant blue eyes, while the others’ blue eyes were as dark as night. A smaller photo of Dex and Siena when they were little was placed beside a larger photo of Jack, Sage, and Dex. In it, Dex looked to be about thirteen years old. She ran her finger along his lanky body, all elbows and knees at that age. She glanced back at him snoozing on the couch, broad chested and rippled with strength. His tattoos made him look even manlier than he had four years ago. Oh yes, he had grown into a fine specimen of a man.

She went into the foyer and retrieved her suitcase, then wound her way down the hall looking for a bathroom. She passed the closed door where Regina was sleeping and wandered into Dex’s bedroom. The bed was unmade, and the room carried a chill. She touched his dresser, a bold, manly wooden piece of furniture with thick legs and solid wooden handles. The top of the dresser was littered with gaming magazines and drawings. A small frame caught her eye, and she picked it up. She should feel as though she was snooping, but with Dex, she never felt that way. She’d come in and out of his bedroom so many nights that it had felt like it was hers as well. That was stupid, and she knew it, and she’d never been in this bedroom. So why did she still feel as close to him?