Page 64 of Play Fake
“It smells fantastic in here,” Dex says, and he kicks off from his spot by the door as he walks through the penthouse toward me.
“I decided to surprise you with dinner,” I say. And fingers crossed I cook everything properly so he doesn’t wind up sick for his first day of training camp.
“That was really nice of you,” he says, and he moves in behind me sort of like that second dude at the club who got punched did. But this time, it’s welcome despite the fact that I never actually invited it.
He sets his hands on my hips, and he presses his lips to my neck. “Finally alone,” he murmurs.
“Ba ba ba!” Jack babbles, reminding us that we are not, in fact, alone after all.
Dex chuckles. “Little cockblock,” he mutters for just me to hear, and I turn to swat his arm with a giggle. He doesn’t move out of the way, instead rocking the front of his body against the back of mine.
I think the idea that blossomed on the elevator last Tuesday night is still very much alive between the two of us.
I set down the knife I’m chopping tomatoes with and turn around, and he lets his hands skim my hips as I move, never moving them until I’m firmly in place with my chest against his. He takes the moment to wrap his arms around me then, and his lips drop down to mine.
“Ba da ba da ba!” Jack says.
Dex pulls back with a sigh, and he looks up at the ceiling, his neck corded as he clenches his jaw. He clears his throat, and his eyes are hot on mine when he says, “I’ve been waiting four and a half days to get you alone. I guess I can wait another hour or two.”
I lean up and press my lips to his for a quick kiss. “We can try to get him down early tonight.”
He chuckles. “I’ll start packing now for camp so I don’t need to do it later. Then I can give you all my focus.”
“I can’t wait,” I say softly.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks. He nips another kiss to my lips.
I nod probably a little too enthusiastically. “I’m sure. Are you?”
“I’ve been counting the seconds, Ains. I’m sure.”
My heart skips a beat at that, and he lets me go and moves out of my orbit.
“Can I help in here at all?” he asks. He swipes a tomato off my cutting board.
“If you want to keep all your fingers, you’ll stay away from my knife,” I warn.
He laughs and holds both hands up. “Okay, okay,” he says, and he heads off toward his bedroom to pack.
The soup is a hit. In fact, Dex’s exact words are, “Can you add this to the weekly menu and make a double batch so there’s extra next time?”
The words are enough to make me giddy that he liked something I created for him.
I do manage to get Jack down about fifteen minutes earlier than usual, and when I emerge from his bedroom, there’s a vodka Sprite with three cherries in it sitting on the counter for me. Dex is by the window, as usual, and I grab the drink from the counter and take a sip before I set it back down. I wander over and step into place beside him.
“Have you ever thought about putting a couch over here?” I ask.
“I do my best thinking when I’m on my feet,” he admits. “I do it on purpose since I can’t sit and make split-second decisions when I’m on the field.”
“Are you excited to go to camp?” I ask.
“Yes and no.”
“Why no?”
He glances over at me, and he shrugs. I get the sense that this is harder for him to talk about than he wants to admit.
But then, to my complete and utter shock, he starts talking anyway.
