What If I Never (Necklace Trilogy 1)

“Don’t get me started on Tyler. Aside from agreeing with you, that is. As for me, I’m just me. You’ve dealt with authors, even highly successful authors. You know we’re just people.”

“You’re another level of success than almost all other authors,” I say, and since I’ve somehow inhaled half my lasagna, thank you, vodka, I seal my meal and scoot the container aside. “Even more so than your father, which must make him very proud.”

He slides the tray top back into place and pushes himself onto the couch, offering me his hand. I scoot to my knees and let him help me up, feeling far more steady and sharp now than I was fifteen minutes ago.

“I don’t talk to my father, Allie,” he says. “At all. So while some may not understand where you’re at with yours, I do.”

Given his career, this news surprises me, but I have heard the stories about his father, and they aren’t good. “How long has it been since you talked to him?”

“Only twice in fifteen years, and one of those times was at my mother’s funeral.”

“Five years ago,” I supply. “I googled you,” I admit. “And there wasn’t even any alcohol involved.”

“Don’t believe everything you read, Allie.”

“I’m a fiction editor, or I was. I don’t believe everything I read.”

“Good,” he says, “because I learned the hard way, the press will print anything to get a story. And as for my mother, yes,” he confirms, “it was five years ago next month.”

“Were you close?”

“Both me and my sister were extremely close to my mother.”

“But neither of you took over her business?” I catch myself and say, “I’m sorry. I’m being nosy.”

“It’s fine, cupcake. We’re getting to know each other,” he says. “The company had gone public by the time she passed. She hated what that did to her business model, and she stepped down from the board and sold out about a year before she died. The money we inherited works for me.” He lifts his martini glass and sips. “I think my sister finds it intimidates the men she dates.”

I’d assumed he inherited a large sum of money but there’s also no doubt that he’s wildly wealthy on his own. “She’s around a lot of wealthy men, who would be her equals.”

“And she thinks they’re all asses. Of course, she tells no one how much she’s worth. She wants to work and she wants her relationships to be honest.”

“Unfortunately, I understand where she’s coming from. Any man who finds out who my father is, expects me to inherit his fortune.”

“Now it seems, you’re the one speaking from experience.”

He’s right, but I don’t go there. I may never go there, with Dash, or anyone for that matter. “I don’t want his money, Dash, and not because I’m stubborn like my mother. He showed up at my door two years ago. He said he was a changed man. He—he did some things and you know how he tried to make those things better?”

“He tried to buy you,” he supplies easily.

“Yes. I can make my own money. I don’t need his.”

His eyes soften and he catches my hand. “Come here.”

I let him ease me closer, and when he pulls me onto his lap again, I say, “Am I going to end up with my hands behind my back unable to touch you again?”

“Not unless you want me to tie you up and tease you.”

There’s no denying the idea of Dash in control and me at his mercy, is a delicious prospect I won’t even try to deny. And so, I don’t deny anything. Instead, my arms slide around his neck, and I lean into him. “Not this time, Dash. Please.”

“Well now, as long as you say please, you can have about anything you want.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

With his promise that I can have anything I want if I say please, Dash’s hands slide under the T-shirt I’m wearing and up my back. Molding me close, my breasts pressed to his hard chest.

“For instance,” he says, his voice low, a rough sandpaper tease on my nerve endings. “I’ll lick you anywhere you want to be licked if you just say please.”

I’m really, truly a rather shy person and no one has ever spoken to me so boldly as Dash has this night, but I’m different with Dash I’m starting to realize. More comfortable in my own skin and sexuality. I just can’t find it in me to hide from this or him. “What about where I want to kiss you?”

“Where do you want to kiss me?” he asks, squeezing my backside and Lord help me I can feel the thick ridge of his erection between my thighs, and through his jeans that I want to be gone now.

“Everywhere,” I assure him.

His lips curve and he says, “Is that right?”

“Oh yes, but you resist me, Dash Black.”