What If I Never (Necklace Trilogy 1)

“We have hours until then.” He leans in near my ear, and says, “Plenty of time for me to lick you in all those places you like to be licked.”

I’m reminded of how dirty Dash can be, a lot more than he’s shown me, I am certain. There’s a lot about this man I don’t know, but I truly hope to find out.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

By the time Dash and I enter his apartment, we’re all over each other. It doesn’t take long and we end up naked on his living room floor, and then in the shower together. At this point, we haven’t eaten, and Dash suggests we go out to a taco joint he knows and loves. With this in mind, both of us dress for Aldean’s. Dash in black jeans, black biker-style boots, and a T-shirt. Me in a black jean skirt with a flare, and a black lacy top. I’ve just sat down on the couch in the bedroom and pulled on my boots when Dash sits down on the coffee table in front of me.

In his hand is a necklace-sized velvet box and my heart is racing all over again. “You’ve been obsessing over another woman’s necklace sent to her by another man. I thought you needed something that said me and you, not them.” He opens the lid and displays a delicate chain with a sparkling pendant in the center.

I smile and laugh when I realize it’s a cupcake. “Oh my God. It’s gorgeous and it’s really a cupcake. How did you find that?”

“I got lucky,” he says. “I went into the store for a necklace and they had a cupcake. It was like it was meant to be.”

He went into a store, shopping for me. My heart is mush. I mean I know that we’re both kind of a mess for our own reasons, we are. We’re probably going to break each other, but right now, in this moment, I feel as if maybe, just maybe, we need each other. And isn’t that what matters?

“I love it, Dash. I really do.” My hand settles on his jaw. “Thank you.”

He catches my hand and kisses it, and when he does, when our eyes meet again, there’s a shift between us I cannot explain. There is something happening between me and this man that I am so beyond stopping. Maybe he is, too. We’re riding a wave that will eventually crash and I just don’t know if that will be into each other or someplace dark and lonely.

“Let me help you put it on,” he offers.

“I’d like that.” I stand up and he pulls the necklace from the velvet.

I lift my hair and turn around. Dash steps behind me and connects the chain. “Done,” he says.

Letting my hair fall down my neck, I turn to face him. “How does it look?”

He cups my face. “Beautiful, baby. Absolutely beautiful.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

Dash and I Uber to Jason Aldean’s place from the taco spot with the knowledge that we’ll be drinking and only have a short walk back to his place from the bar.

The tacos are fabulous, but not so fabulous is the line to get inside Aldean’s which is absolutely ridiculous. But thanks to Bella, and our VIP passes waiting on us, Dash and I end up inside rather easily. Hand in hand, we head to the table his sister has reserved for the three of us. Bella, dressed in an adorable, belted navy-blue dress and boots, greets me with a hug. “How was that thing you had with Jack and Tyler?”

“Weird,” I say as Dash and I claim a seat across from her. “I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“That sounds about right,” she says, flagging a waitress and motioning to us, but not without her recommendation. “I suggest the lemons drops.”

“She always suggests the lemon drops,” Dash comments dryly.

“Then they must be good,” I say, eyeing the waiter. “I’ll take a lemon drop.”

Dash shakes his head at us and orders a beer. The three of us then fall into easy conversation until Bella’s gaze lifts toward the door. “The record producer is here. Wish us luck.” Just that fast, she’s up and gone.

There’s another band on now, and Dash and I enjoy the music, with me doing a whole lot of singing along. It’s finally time for Bella’s guy to take the stage and just before he starts his first number, Bella reappears and kneels beside our table. “I need you two to get up and dance. It encourages others to do the same. It makes my client look good.” She assumes our agreement, and slides into her seat, turning to watch the stage.

Her client, a good-looking youngish man with dark hair, and a guitar hanging across his body steps to the microphone. “Hi there, Nashville,” he greets. “I’m Tony Michaels, and since we’re in Aldean’s place, let’s play a little Aldean.” The music starts and the crowd goes nuts as he begins to sing “Dirt Road Anthem.”