What If I Never (Necklace Trilogy 1)

For the first time in my life, I realize the difference.

Seconds tick by, and he studies me, almost as if he expects my objection. I even wonder if some part of him wants that from me—but that tug of attraction between us is all-consuming, the real source of power. He tangles his fingers in my hair and tilts my gaze to his. “I’m not a forever kind of guy, Allie. You need to know that.”

Okay, there it is.

Suddenly, I know why I’m on top of him with my hands bound by his. This isn’t just about control. It’s about his ability to read me, his fear that while he might say vulnerable is not weak, he isn’t sure he believes it. It’s in that moment that I become aware of the song on the radio. Carly Pearce and Lee Brice’s, “I Hope You’re Happy Now.” The words fill me up and expand and tell a story that speaks to me.

I’m a wreck, I’m a mess

And I ain’t got nothing left

And I was, I really was a mess, but I’m not anymore. I’m finding my way to a new me, and tonight is all about just that. Finding me through him, but not because of him. I’m actually a little angry that he can’t even see that in me and with that anger my nerves evaporate. “I’m not looking for a husband, Dash. Forever isn’t real, but this, what we’re doing now, is. So kiss me and get naked already or let me get up and leave.”

A look of surprise flickers over his face and he drags me to him, our bodies snug, our lips close. His fingers are still in my hair, a pull to his grip that should hurt, but it only hurts so good.

“I don’t know what to think about you, Allison Wright,” he declares.

“Thinking is not what I want right now.”

His lips curve slightly and then his mouth is slanting over my mouth, his tongue stroking deep and slow. I moan with the taste of him, sweet with the lemon drop and wild with need. He moans with me, telling me he, too, is in the moment, affected by me, and the very idea that I can do this to Dash Black is empowering. He wants control, and he’s claimed that control, but I have my own as well. Our tongues battle and it’s a wicked battle at that. I don’t hold back. I always hold back, but not tonight. Tonight, I give myself permission to just be here, really here, really in the moment. And I am. I’m right here with him, demanding as much as I give.

Almost as if he’s responded to what’s in my head, he tears his mouth from mine, our lips lingering there for several hard beats. He unhooks the front clasp of my bra, and then he drags it down my shoulders, he tears away the dress binding my arms. My nipples pucker with the contrast of the cold air and his hot inspection that follows, raking over my naked breasts. Tension builds between us and I do what anyone would do right in this moment.

I reach for him, but he catches my wrists. “Not yet.”

“I want to touch you,” I whisper.

His answer is that he rotates me, moving with me, laying me down on the couch, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it away. Before I can fully appreciate just how perfect his muscles truly are, he’s dragging my panties down my hips and tossing them. Then his big body is settling on top of me, his hips spreading my legs. And when I would touch him, he catches my hands, pinning them over my head, his earthy scent and the feel of him on top of me, in control, demanding my submission without words, is both heady and addictive.

I’m more turned on than I have ever been in my life.

He leans in, his lips on my neck, the breath a warm caress on the delicate skin, and I swear he draws in a breath, breathing me in as I am him. I arch into his body, murmuring his name, “Dash.” And it’s a plea to touch him, God, how I need to touch him.

His answer once again is to deny me my wish.

He lifts off of me, my sex clenching with how much I need him to come back. He catches my hips and turns me over, pulling me to my knees. Now he really does have control. I’m exposed and vulnerable, with my backside in the air, with him behind me. He smacks my ass, just enough to get my attention, and I arch my back, gasping with the surprise contact. His hands stroke up my body, over my breasts, and then back to my backside, where he smacks me again.