Page 89 of Dash

Thena

I opened my mouth and closed it, unable to wrap my head around what Dash was saying. It seemed impossible. He’d always been ravenous in bed. Sex was how he blew off steam and also how he expressed himself. I’d always loved it when he talked to me with his body. Was it possible that he’d denied himself all these years? Even after I’d broken our engagement and thrown him out of my life, had he really remained faithful to me and only me?

“Three years?” I stammered. “How?”

“This.” He lifted his right hand and flexed his fingers. “This, the shower, and me.”

He left me speechless. What on earth could I say to that?

“But… why?”

“I want you, Thena. Only you. No one else. Do you read me?”

For a guy who’d never spoken about his feelings much, his words last night and today made up for all his silences over the years. His honesty slayed me.

“I read you.” I had a good reason to believe him. “I’m sorry if I ever doubted you.”

“That’s in the past,” he said. “I wanna talk about the future.”

At the mention of the word “future,” my heart jumped. I couldn’t escape the intensity gleaming in his stare.

“You know I find it hard to say what I feel.” His Adam’s apple rippled on his throat. “I cannot, will not, go through the agony of losing you again. The last three years almost killed me. Call me weak, call me a coward, but I can’t do that again. I just… can’t.”

The pain in his gaze cut me to the quick, and yet I wanted to be as honest with him as he was being with me. “You’re not weak and you’re not a coward,” I said. “I don’t want to live without you, either.”

“That’s good, Thena, very good, because I can’t do ‘maybe.’” The relief that relaxed his face was short-lived. “I’m a black and white kind of guy. You know that. I want us to be able to trust each other again, like we used to before it all went to hell.”

I swallowed a sniffle. “I want that, too.”

“When it comes to you, I’m one insecure son of a bitch.” He paused as if to gather his thoughts. “What I’m trying to say is that I want you to be mine as I’ve been yours since as far back as I can remember. I need you to be mine and mine alone.”

The smile that curved my lips came easy. The joy that powered it was sincere. If only he knew. I needed to tell him.

I unzipped my jacket, slid my arms out of it, and dropped it on the mound of blankets piled on the flat section of the roof. I stepped out of my slippers, and after undoing my belt, I got rid of my robe as well. Cradled in the warmth of our nest, I stood before Dash as naked as I’d been born.

The breeze kissed my skin. My nipples puckered, not because of the cold, but because of the heat in Dash’s gaze. He showered me with a promise of pleasure and the miracle of his affection. His desire only strengthened my resolve. Never again would he feel lacking, unloved, unwanted, or judged. Never again would I allow him to feel less than what he was to me—all and everything, my universe, my soul blooming in the fertile soil of his life.

I walked up to him, one, two, three steps. He never took his eyes off me. When I stood in front of him, his arms twitched, but he didn’t reach for me. This was the remaining symptom of an injury that hadn’t healed all the way, like the scar on his thigh,only it was his heart hurting. The path to complete healing lay in telling him the truth in its rawest, most incredible form, the truth we’d shared even during our time apart.

I lifted to the tip of my toes, and, bracing my hands on the solid muscles of his chest, stretched out to reach his mouth. I closed my eyes and brushed my lips against his, capturing his strong breaths, filling my lungs with his scent: fresh grass from the prairie and pure mountain air.

He stood so still that for all I knew, I could’ve been kissing a statue. But statues weren’t hot and vital like he was. They didn’t have a heart that beat like a war drum against my palm. They couldn’t breathe, which meant that those deep inhales that came as I circled my fingers around the outline of his nipples were very human, very Dash.

The finest sculptors in the world couldn’t recreate the chiseled muscles flowing beneath my hands. Or the warmth that came through his T-shirt as I rubbed my breasts against the soft jersey. Or the response of his body as my tongue ran along the seam of his mouth—a huge erection that poked at my belly, a hard rub of denim on bare skin. Marble statues didn’t taste this good, either. They didn’t taste like freedom and hope.

Sliding my hands up, I relished the strength of his wide shoulders, the integrity of the column of his neck, and the force that kept his jaw locked at a straight angle even as my mouth worked to persuade him that I was safe for him.

“Dash,” I murmured as I nibbled on his lips. “I believe everything you’ve told me. I feel you. Now I needyouto feelme.” I kissed him again. “I promise, this time around, I’ll be a good steward for your heart. I’ll keep it safe and fight for us no matter what comes.”

He met my gaze. “Are you sure?”

“Second chances are rare and precious,” I said. “They don’t come very often. So yes, I’m sure, and for that very reason,I need you to know something else, something important.”

Curiosity sparkled in his eyes. “What is it?”

“Me, too.” I nuzzled against his ear.

When he drew back, two lines etched the space between his eyebrows. “You too what?”

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