What If I Never (Necklace Trilogy 1)

As if he senses I’m awake, Dash turns to face me, his eyes heavy as they rake over me. “Morning, cupcake.” The greeting is pleasant and familiar, at least on the surface, but there’s a tick of tension beneath its surface, as if waking up to me in his bed was not expected. I glance at the clock that reads nine AM and cringe. He has a book to write. He needs me to not be here right now.

“I obviously didn’t go home,” I say. “And now, the awkward morning after has officially arrived and I can’t make it go away.” And because I want him to know I plan on getting up and out, I rotate and throw my legs off the bed. Somehow, I actually keep the sheet in place. “I’m embarrassed to say, I don’t even remember how I got in your bed.”

“I carried you,” he says. “I think the vodka got you. You were out like a light.”

I blink in surprise that should probably be an embarrassment. He carried me to his bed? Because he wanted me in his bed, or because he felt obligated not to leave me elsewhere? And Lord help me, did I drink that much? I’m appalled at the idea of being a lush. “I’m sorry, Dash. I don’t drink much and now you know why. I don’t handle it well. To be honest, I’d get up right now and try to fix this, but I really don’t want to hunt down my dress while naked. Can you maybe bring it to me?”

His reply is no reply. He just studies me, sunlight flinting through his eyes, now a striking blue with a matching T-shirt stretched over his perfect chest that I can’t help but remember touching. His jaw is set hard and shadowed with a sexy one-day stubble, his expression so damn unreadable, it’s killing me.

“Dash?” I ask, not sure what to do right now.

He crosses the room but instead of passing me by and locating my dress, he sits down next to me and offers me his coffee. “Lots of cream and way too much Splenda. Have some.”

It’s an intimate gesture that doesn’t say, go home, Allie, and I’m confused. “I think I should leave.”

He sets the mug on the nightstand and shifts in my direction. “Do you want to leave?”

Do I want to leave? I repeat in my head. No. No, I don’t want to leave, but I should. He was pretty clear last night on where we stand. No relationship. Just sex. Or that was the point he got across and that felt safe. It felt like something I could do and not get hurt.

“Do you want to leave, Allie?” Dash presses.

“Why does that feel like a trick question?”

“No games, Allie. I told you that.”

“Don’t you want me to leave?” I counter.

“I spent the last hour staring at you in my bed, and thinking about how much I should want you to leave.”

That answer stabs at me way too much. Proof that one of my first impressions of Dash was correct. He has the power to hurt me. Badly. I need to go home. “My dress, please?”

The doorbell rings and Dash curses. “Damn it. That will be my sister. I completely forgot she was coming over until now. She bought me this damn waffle maker she’s been wanting to try.”

Panic and embarrassment rush over me. “Oh my God,” I murmur. “Oh my God. I am never drinking again.” I forget my nakedness and throw away the blanket, eager to escape and get dressed, but by the time I’m standing, Dash is in front of me, his hands on my shoulder. “I don’t want you to leave, Allie. Not even a little bit.”

I can’t even digest what he’s saying or any of the implications of his words. This morning is no longer just me and him. “Your sister, Dash. I work with her. I’ll look bad. I’ll look like a—just bad.”

“You’ll look like the only woman she’s ever seen at my house. The only woman, Allie. She won’t make this awkward. But if you want me to, I’ll tell her I’ll meet her somewhere in an hour. But that’s absolutely not what I want.” The doorbell rings again. “It’s your decision. Just tell me what I’m doing.”

I press my hands to my face and then look at him. “I’m embarrassed.”

His cellphone starts ringing. He grabs it from the nightstand and answers, “I need a few minutes, Bella. Let yourself in. We may go out to breakfast.”

She says something and Dash smiles before he says, “I’ll tell her.” He disconnects.

“Tell her?” I ask. “What was that? What was that?!”

“She asked if you were here.”

My eyes go wide. “How did she know?”

“She said she knows me and she could read us, but not to worry, no one else could. Stay, Allie. And just in case I haven’t been clear enough, I’ll say it again. I want you to stay.”