Starlee's Turn (The Wayward Sons 2)

He leans his forehead against mine. “Not to sound like a pervert, but it’s all I want. All the time…”

I sense the hesitation. “But?”

“I promised Sierra and signed a contract. It’s one of the things on my probation list, Starlee, and I’m determined not to fuck up again.”

“Promised what?”

“Not to have sex.”

“Oh.”

“And,” he grimaces, “Sierra knows about us at the cabin.”

I pull back, horrified. “What? How?”

“I didn’t clean up after myself as thoroughly as I thought.” He links his fingers with mine. “She’s not mad—just worried.”

I nod in understanding although I still feel exposed. “Why didn’t you tell me about the contract?”

“Because you deserve something better than a juvenile delinquent and I try not to remind you of that more than necessary.” He says this with his eyes cast down.

“Hey,” I say, touching his chin so he’s forced to look at me. “I know who you are. The real you, and right now that includes the part of you attached to the state. I’m with Sierra, let’s do whatever we have to get you free from probation, okay? My teenage hormones can wait a few more months, I just wanted to make sure—” I stop, feeling stupid.

“Make sure of what?”

I shrug self-consciously. “I wanted to make sure you still wanted me the same. That it wasn’t just a one-time thing.”

His jaw clenches and his hands lift next to my head, enclosing me against the refrigerator with his body. The dark flicker of feral-ness that I know resides deep in Dexter’s soul shows itself and he presses his body against mine. He wants me to feel. To understand. “Nothing about you, Starlee Jones, is one-time. Do you know how many times a day I consider breaking that contract? Dozens. When I see you in the morning. When I smell your shampoo in the car. At lunch, in the hall, on the way home. Every time you look at me.” He trembles when he speaks, his emotions raw. My knees threaten to buckle again. “I’m holding back for you—for us—even though it’s making me absolutely insane.”

I touch his cheek. “Soon. Two months. Then we can do whatever we want.”

He tilts his head and nods, then kisses me slow and with promise. The timer buzzes—probably at the right time, because I’m overheated. Mentally and physically.

“I should get those,” he says.

“Yeah, I think so.”

We separate and slowly get back to work. As the pies cool off, so do we, and the lightheartedness from earlier in the evening comes back. Once we’ve wrapped all the pastries and cleaned the counters and dishes, I wait for Dexter by the shop door. He locks up and we step into the night. It’s nearly curfew but he’ll risk it to walk me home.

“Thanks for helping tonight. That was way better than hanging with the guys. Usually they fight and make a mess and I kick them out.”

“Doesn’t that mean you end up doing it by yourself?”

He makes a face, like he’s fully aware of their tricks. We reach Leelee’s porch and climb two steps before he stops me and wraps his arms around my waist. He rests his head on my stomach.

“Thank you for being honest with me tonight,” I say, pushing my fingers through his thick, curly hair.

“Thank you for being so understanding.”

“There’s nothing to understand, Dex. This is how relationships work.”

He looks up at me, eyes bright in the moonlight. “I’ll see you in the morning, Starlee.”

I kiss his forehead. “Night.”

He walks away, headed into the dark, waving one last time.

“Wait,” I call. He spins, raising his eyebrows. “A’pear’calypse Pies.”