Page 158 of Biggest Player
“I mean. Yeah.” He shakes his head, the weight of his apology clear in the tone of his voice. “I don’t know when I turned into the type of dude who disregards the feelings of others—probably college, when everyone kissed my ass. I could do no wrong—I was, like, the golden kid for four years.”
How nice for him.
He goes on. “It’s not an excuse. I just want to illustrate that ... I haven’t had anyone tell me I’m being an asshole, and at the same time I have a guy working for me that encourages it to a degree.”
“Lovely.”
Dex shakes his head, frustrated. “My parents are users, so I actually know what it’s like being in your position—not that I realized that’s what I was doing, in a roundabout way.”
“Your parents are users?”
He nods. “Yeah. As soon as I got famous, they were up my ass about money and paying off their house. I mean, plenty of guys can afford to do that, but usually they do it because their parents were the ones supporting their craft. Mine didn’t. I rode my bike to practice and had a job to pay for camps. Why the fuck would I pay off your house—or buy you a new one?”
He sounds bitter, and I know he has a lot to unpack with this subject, perhaps on another evening.
Dex blows out a puff of air. “Anyway. You’re so fucking amazing. I knew it from the beginning, and I was an idiot to let Trent think I was only dating you for clout. Because that is not why I’m dating you.”
I raise my brows as he rubs the fabric of my sleep shirt. “You kind of were. Isn’t that the reason you backtracked after putting me in the friend zone?”
I’m no lawyer, but I object to his argument.
His face is grim. “I think it was an excuse to take you out of the friend zone.”
“An excuse.” Okay, that makes a bit of sense. I can wrap my brain around it. “You didn’t want to admit to yourself that you were falling head over heels in like with a woman who has a kid?”
I’m teasing, but I hope he agrees with me.
“I thought if I could keep things casual between us, it would be easier for me to handle if things didn’t work out. But obviously Wyatt is cool as shit and you’re sexy as hell, and why the fuck would I want to date anyone else?”
In all his nonpoetic words lies the biggest flattery, and I blush. Dex is no wordsmith—they are not his forte, but they aren’t mine either. But if he’s saying what I think he’s saying, I’m ...
Happy.
“Do I make you happy?” His question invades my thoughts, and I gaze at him sharply. Is he a mind reader now?! Holy crap.
“I think so.”
“You’re not sure?”
My head lolls. “Listen, we had a rough week. You dragged my kid into our argument—slick moves, by the way—and I overheard your agent telling you to stick with this a month or so before pulling the plug.” I worry my bottom lip. “I guess the better question is do I think you can make me happy?”
He waits for my answer.
“Yeah. I do think you can make me happy.” Pause. “Do you think I can make you happy?”
“Margot, you already do.” He pulls me over to him and shifts me so I’m flat on my back, pillows beneath my head. Braces himself above me, bending to kiss my neck. Jaw. Corner of my mouth.
“I thought we were going to watch movies.”
“We will.” His fingers work the buttons on my sleep shirt, his nose trailing along my skin. “How is it possible that you smell like baby powder?”
I chuckle softly, my hands sliding over his broad shoulders as my body is bared to him, one button at a time. “Mom magic,” I whisper.
Dex kisses the valley between my breasts, moving down.
My breath catches as his lips explore my skin, his touch electrifying.
I let out a soft moan, arching my back slightly, my hands gripping the sheets beneath me ...
