The Doctor Who Has No Closure (Soulless 10)

She pressed her lips tightly together and tried to suppress a smirk. “Habit, you know?” She pulled me in for a long hug. “You’ve been such a blessing to my son. So happy that you came to us. It was meant to be.” When she pulled back, she gave my forearms an affectionate squeeze. “Goodnight, honey.”

“Goodnight.” I smiled and watched Deacon circle his arm around her waist as they walked toward the exit.

Daisy hugged me next. “Thanks for everything you do for Dex. It’s been a really hard year for him, and he’s already doing so much better. Getting closer and closer to becoming his old self. I talk a lot of shit about my brother, but he’s honestly the best guy I know—besides my dad and Derek.”

“He is,” I said in agreement. “How are you and Mason?”

“Good. I’m going to introduce him to my parents soon.”

“Oh wow. It’s serious, then.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I think so.” She stepped away so Derek could say goodbye.

“You want a ride home?” Derek asked.

“Oh no, I’ll be here for a while,” I said with a chuckle. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to do.”

“Well, Dex better give you a hand.”

He probably would, even though I would tell him not to. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” He gave me a pat on the arm before he followed his family. They all grouped together and took turns giving Dex a hug before they walked out.

Dex stayed behind, his hands sliding into the pockets of his slacks as he watched them walk away.

I should get to work, but I took a moment to stare at him, to study his side profile, his carved jawline, his smooth cheeks because he shaved before he came down here. With his shoulders back and one foot forward, he was posing for a photographer that didn’t exist. I forced myself to look away and started to grab the things off the table to put them in the cart.

He walked over a moment later and stood there.

When he didn’t say anything, I looked up from what I was doing and regarded him. “What are you still doing here? You should get home. It’s been a long night.”

He continued to look at me, his hand reaching up and swiping across the skin below his bottom lip, almost like he had an itch he needed to scratch. When he pocketed his hand again, he released a quiet noise, like he was clearing his throat and trying not to make it obvious.

I stopped organizing the candlesticks and the vases and straightened because it seemed like he had something to say but didn’t know how to say it. He was pretty good with words and expressed himself fluidly, but perhaps everything I’d done that night had truly overwhelmed him, and now he didn’t know what to say.

I walked closer to him, my dress so tight I could barely breathe. It fit me like a glove, like a second skin before it flared out around my hips. My hands came together in front of my belly button, and I tried to think of something to say to make it easier on him, because I knew how much he appreciated everything without his saying it. “I know you appreciate everything that I do, even if you don’t say it. And I want you to know that you’re the reason I have the most meaningful and fulfilling—”

He stepped even closer, stepping into my space like he might hug me, but the look on his face told me that wasn’t what was coming. His arm slid around my waist, but not with professional affection, the way Deacon might hug me, but with a possessive grip that tugged on the fabric of my dress like it was the reins of a horse. He pulled me closer to him, his other hand moving to my neck then gracefully sliding farther to my cheek, his thumb resting along the line of my jaw. He directed my eyes to his face, his eyes on my lips, and after one more breath, he pulled me in just a little more and kissed me.

My eyes instantly closed at his touch, my chest turned rigid because my body suddenly didn’t need air anymore. My stomach tightened, my thighs clenched, but my mouth softened once his lips were in contact with mine, naturally sliding apart like they knew exactly what to do.

His fingers slid deep into my hair as I felt my lips between his, his palm pressing harder into my lower back to keep me against his chest, to give me an embrace so warm it was like standing next to a roaring fire.

I hadn’t touched him because my mind and body hadn’t connected yet, hadn’t processed what was happening. That Dex Hamilton, the man of my dreams, was kissing me.