"Yeah." Dex dropped his face down to catch my bottom lip in his, and if it wouldn't have been for that touch, I wouldn't have felt the way his hands trembled on my cheeks. The way his entire body shook.
I nodded at him, pulled between the urge to burst into tears at feeling so overwhelmed and the need to throw myself at him to feel the warm reassurance only he was capable of. Could I do it by myself? Yes. But did I want to? No.
I was in love with this guy. Completely, terrifyingly in love with him. And life suddenly seemed so short again. Would I want to live the rest of my life hiding behind my dad's shadow? Living out his mistakes? No. Absolutely not.
Dex must have seen something on my face that had him dropping his weight down on me. That warm naked body spread over my own nude one, his legs bracketed on either sides of mine, his arms caging me in. Ohmigod, Dexter Locke was naked on top of me. His nice, clean groin was resting on my stomach.
Brain dead. I was brain dead.
"You aren't leavin' alone," Dex demanded.
Oh hell. "I won’t."
Holding his weight on one bent arm, he cupped the side of my face. "You took ten years off my life today, baby," Dex said.
Oh man.
"Thought I was gonna have to go to jail for the rest of my life, babe," he whispered. His hand cupped my calf, demanding and hot. "We're gonna find that piece of shit you and Son got cursed with and we're gonna get this taken care of. You and me. Understand?”
Did I understand? Oh yes. I nodded.
Those brilliant blue eyes locked on mine. He breathed, “I don’t know what the fuck I’d do if somethin’ happened to you.” Dex squeezed my kneecaps. "Scared the livin’ shit outta me, and I’m gonna make sure your pa knows what that feels like."
A tremble engulfed every inch of my skin. It was slow but powerful, eating up my muscles and nerves like it was famished. The moment, his proclamation, all seemed like a dream. Like something that would have happened to the Iris Taylor I could have been in an alternate universe, if life had gone the way it was supposed to.
Did I care he was threatening my dad? In that moment, not really. I chose to ignore it because I wanted to be the one to hurt that selfish jerk.
Dex’s hands held me firmly. One hand slipped up to cup my cheek tenderly as he pressed his forehead to my temple. “I don’t ever wanna feel that way again.”
I think my heart cracked a little right then.
“I’m okay,” I whispered, placing my hand over the one he had high on my thigh. I wanted to tell him that I’d never been that scared either but I couldn’t. Not when Dex was opening up and telling me about his own fear. He wasn’t scared of anything. Not roaches, the dark, clowns, scary movies, the possibility of getting hurt. Nothing.
The fact that he’d been scared for me speared right through my gut.
He tipped his head to touch his lips to mine. “I’ll never let anything happen to you,” he murmured as his thumb brushed over my cheekbone. When I didn’t say anything in response, mainly because I was so wrapped up in his touch, he kissed the side of my mouth.
I, better than anyone, knew how unsteady life could be, but that was the beauty of it if you recognized the potential ahead of you. I had to appreciate the best things, the good man who intended to protect me, because it was real and present. Feminism be damned. I’d shouldered enough burdens alone, and let me tell you, it’s not easy.
Every nerve in my body was prepped for tears and choking emotions but I wrangled them in. I’d always considered myself strong, but on Dex’s lap with his arms around me despite the day I had, I felt invincible. I didn’t need tears. So I told him the truth that had grown roots right into the untilled section of my chest. Clear, concise, precise. “I know. I trust you.”
The movement of his hand faltered on my back. “Iris,” he whispered to my temple, his voice sounding like a croak.
This man. My heart swelled in a way that wasn't natural.
I squeezed my arms around the warmth cage of his ribs and mouthed the words I wouldn't let out of my mouth into his shirt.
Three little words that held all the power in the world.
Chapter Thirty-Four
"You want me to drive?"
I glanced at Dex sitting there, his wrist thrown loosely over the steering wheel. We'd been in Luther's truck for the last six hours and besides three pit stops, the old man—he wasn't amused when I called him that out loud—had been driving straight. He was like a man on a mission, insulting my slow driving skills the first time I'd asked him if he wanted to trade positions. His answer now, like it'd been before was the same. "I'm good."