They say their goodbyes, leaving us standing at the door watching the cloud of dust trailing behind their car. As Dax shuts the door and turns to face me, it’s funny to see both of us acting shy all of a sudden, like two teens caught doing something they weren’t supposed to and were now alone again. I bite my lower lip as I gaze at him, admiring the view. I was never into bearded men—until Dax, that is, though his is more like stubble that’s been allowed to grow for a few days, then trimmed to perfection.
“So where were we?” he asks and this time, I don’t hesitate.
“We were here.” I kiss him then, my actions taking him by surprise. But I want Dax, and I’m tired of pretending that I don’t. As we kiss, I boldly slide my hands under his shirt, feeling the taut muscles underneath. When I tug his shirt, Dax doesn’t need any more hints about what I want. He pulls off his shirt, tossing it onto the bench by the door before pulling me towards him.
“I love where we are,” Dax murmurs. His hands cradle my face as he looks at me—really looks at me—like he’s drinking me in. His eyes are so blue, reminding me of the New Mexico sky. I love the way he devours me with his eyes, and when he kisses me hungrily, it’s all teeth and tongue, as if the time for dancing around each other has finally run out.