Chapter 37
DASH
She was going to be the death of me.
I reached down and pulled her up by her arms, champagne glass finally abandoned on the windowsill. I’d been holding that thing so tight I was surprised it hadn’t snapped in my fist. My legs were still unsteady from what she’d just done to me, but I wasn’t done with her. Not even close.
“My turn,” I said against her mouth.
I walked her backward toward the bed, pulling her shirt up and over and tossing it over my shoulder. Then her pants. I stripped her naked and stepped back just long enough to look at her.
“God, you’re beautiful.” I wasn’t just saying the words. It was real. Honest. I had said those words plenty of times before but they never really meant anything.
I sat her down on the edge of the bed and dropped to my knees in front of her, pressing my palms flat against her inner thighs, spreading them apart. She made a soft sound and tried to pull me up toward her.
“Dash—”
“Let me.” I pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee. Then higher. Then higher still. I felt her thigh tremble beneath my lips. “I’ve got you.”
When I finally put my mouth on her, she let out a loud moan and fell back on to the mattress, her fingers twisting into my hair.
I worked her slowly at first, reading every sharp intake of breath and every roll of her hips.
I slid two fingers inside her, curling them forward, and she cried out, her thighs clamping around my head like she was trying to hold the world together.
“Dash!”
I didn’t let up. I kept the same rhythm, steady and relentless, until she was shaking against my mouth, her back bowing off the bed, her whole body trembling through it. I held her through every second of it, my hands firm on her hips, keeping her grounded.
When she finally went soft and boneless against the sheets I kissed my way up her stomach, her ribs, the curve of her breast. She was still catching her breath when I reached her mouth and kissed her.
“Still with me?” I murmured against her cheek.
“Barely,” she breathed.
I smiled against her skin. Then I reached over to the nightstand, grabbed a condom, and rolled it on. I settled between her thighs, bracing myself on my forearms so I could look at her face. I needed to see her.
I pushed inside her slowly, inch by inch, watching her eyes flutter shut and her lips part around a breathless sound. She was tight and perfect. I had to stop halfway just to breathe through the effort of not losing my mind entirely.
“Look at me,” I said quietly.
Her eyes opened and found mine. I pushed the rest of the way in.
She gasped, her nails scraping along my back. I held still for a moment, my forehead dropping to hers, both of us just breathing. Her legs wrapped around me, her heels pressing into the backs of my thighs pulling me closer and deeper, like she couldn’t get enough.
I started to move with long, slow strokes at first, savoring every inch of her around me.
It was unbearably intimate. She moved with me, her body rising to meet each thrust, her hands sliding up my back and pulling me down harder.
I buried my face in her neck and dragged my lips along her throat, feeling her pulse hammering against my tongue.
“More,” she whispered. Her nails raked down my spine. “Dash. More.”
I gave her more. I drove into her harder, the headboard connecting with the wall with a soft knock at first before it got louder and faster.
She moaned and arched up into me, her back lifting off the mattress.
I slid an arm under her, tilting her hips up and changing the angle. My name escaped her lips.
I wanted to wreck her. I wanted to worship her.
Somehow, I was doing both at once. The way her body tightened around me every time I hit that spot made it next to impossible for me to hold on.
I watched her face because I couldn’t look away from it.
Every expression was mine. I was doing that to her.
I wanted to be the only man to have her like this for all of eternity.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Please don’t stop. It feels so good.”
“I’ve got you,” I said again, low against her ear. “I’ve got you, baby. Let go.”
She came apart beneath me with a sharp cry, her whole body clenching and shuddering.
Her fingers dug into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
I hoped they did. I wanted to wear her mark.
I felt her pulse around me and that was it.
I buried myself deep and followed her over the edge, groaning into the curve of her neck.
For a long moment neither of us moved. My heart was slamming against my ribs. Hers was slamming back against mine. I could feel every breath she took. I felt connected to her on a different level. It went beyond our flesh pressed against each other. So much more.
I rolled to the side and brought her with me, tucking her against my chest. She pressed her face into my neck. I pressed my lips into her hair.
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to.
She already knew. I lay there, my body still humming, and tried to come to terms with what I felt.
Love. Had I ever truly felt love? No. This had to be what my brothers had with their wives.
I understood them so much better now. I should’ve felt satisfied, content.
And I did. But there was something else. Something so heavy I couldn’t shake it.
“You okay?” she asked softly, her chin coming to rest on her hands as she looked up at me.
I brushed a damp curl away from her face. “Yeah. More than okay.”
“Liar.” She said it gently, without accusation. “You’re somewhere else right now. I can tell.”
God, she could read me too well. I let my hand fall to stroke her cheek, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “I don’t think it’s the right time to talk about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we’re naked and just had some great sex. I’d rather not think about my dad.”
She laughed. “Ah, I see. It’s fine. What’s on your mind?”
“I’m just… confused.”
“About?”
“Who I am.”
She was quiet for a moment, her eyes searching mine. “I thought the playboy thing was who you were. I likened you to Dionysus.”
“Who?”
“Greek mythology. He was chaos. I assumed you liked the chaos.”
“I did. It is who I was. Part of who I was, anyway.” I took a breath, trying to find the words.
“I’ve always liked having fun. That wasn’t fake.
I always felt like the world was too serious.
Adrian and Briggs are so uptight. When we’d all sit at the table or go to functions, they’d all be very serious.
It made me uncomfortable, so I was the clown.
I was the one that brought levity to a tense situation.
Sebastian would usually join in, but I was definitely the one to instigate it.
But after Dad died, it became something else.
A way to avoid dealing with the fact that he closed a door on me. ”
“What door?”
I stared up at the ceiling, feeling that familiar tightness in my chest. “The door I didn’t even know I wanted to walk through until I realized I never could.
He died thinking I was a screw-up, Krista.
A waste of potential. He used to always lecture me about fucking around.
Said I was going to push things too far one day.
Now, I’ll never get the chance to prove him wrong. ”
“Dash.”
“I was ashamed,” I continued, the words coming faster now like a dam breaking.
I had never given voice to my inner thoughts and fears.
“That’s why I went off the rails after he died.
I isolated myself from my family. I couldn’t look at them without seeing the disappointment I knew Dad felt.
Every time Adrian tried to help me or Briggs offered advice, all I could think was that Dad died believing I was the family joke. ”
She shifted, moving up so she could kiss me. It was soft and sweet, and when she pulled back, I saw the ache in her eyes—the same ache I’d been carrying around for years. It was like she felt my pain. She shared it with me. And I actually felt lighter.
“You’re not a screw-up,” she said.
I tried to smile. “Thanks.”
“You were just a slut.”
For a second, I didn’t know how to react.
Then I saw the glint in her eye, that deadpan expression that somehow made it even funnier.
I burst out laughing. She started laughing too, and suddenly we were both shaking with it.
The moment was easier to handle with a little humor.
Exactly the thing I did when things got difficult.
“What the hell?” I managed between laughs. “Only you could say that and make it sound comforting.”
“I’m gifted that way.” She grinned. Then her expression turned serious again.
“But I mean it, Dash. You’re not a screw-up.
Your father knew your heart. He was proud of you—for who you were, who you are, and who you’re yet to become.
He was doing what dads are supposed to do.
He was offering you guidance. He knew you were going to grow up one day. I bet he loved your personality.”
Something in my chest loosened at those words. Who I’m yet to become.
I liked the sound of that. I had big ideas about who that person was going to be. A creative director who actually created things instead of just made other people’s big ideas come to life. I wanted to be a man who showed up for his family instead of running from them.
And if I was really dreaming big, I wanted to be a husband. And hopefully a father. And one day a grandfather. I saw a huge future that never seemed possible before but now it was right there for the taking.
I pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” She snuggled into me, her body fitting perfectly against mine. “Even if you are a reformed slut.”
“Reformed is generous.”
“Don’t push it, Blackwell.”
I smiled into her hair, feeling something settle deep in my bones. Peace, maybe. Contentment that gave me a strange glow that emanated from deep within. Like my soul was actually glowing. An aura, I think that’s what they called it.
“How long can you stay?” I asked her.
“I don’t know. How long are you staying?”
I grinned. “As long as we want.”
“I didn’t bring any luggage.”
“Good because we both know you would have packed all that atrocious shit. I get to dress you like my little doll.”
“As long as you don’t treat me like a princess.”
I closed my eyes and let myself drift, Krista’s breathing evening out against my chest, and for the first time since my father died, I felt like maybe I was exactly where I was supposed to be.