Page 69 of If You Need Me

Dallas

Do you need anything from me?

Like an orgasm?

I can’t stop thinking about the way you taste.

Or how soft you are on my tongue.

And how much I love the way my name sounds when you moan it.

Haven’t I been a good boy?

When do I get a reward?

I cover my mouth with my hand. “He’s sexting me.”

“Because you turned him down last night?”

“Maybe.” I bite my lips together. “He wants to know when he gets a reward for being a good boy.”

Her eyebrows rise. “Sounds like you’re not the only one affected.”

“I’m so screwed this weekend.”

CHAPTER 25

HEMI

Sitting in a vehicle, immersed in the scent of all things Dallas is torture. He smells way too good. I can’t escape him, or his chiseled fucking jaw and his incredible forearms. There’s this muscle at his elbow that resembles a half golf ball, and I can’t stop staring at it.

My stomach knots as we pass the sign that readsWelcome to Huntsville,population 19,000. I grip the door handle and suck in a breath. And then another, but I still feel like I can’t get enough air.

“Honey, are you okay?” It sounds like Dallas is in a tunnel.

I try to tell him I’m fine, but all that comes out is a horrible squeaky sound.

He takes the next exit and pulls onto the shoulder, shifting the car into park.

My vision blurs, and everything narrows to a pinpoint. This is so embarrassing. I think I’m about to lose it. That never happens. Not like this. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t afford an emotional breakdown. Especially not in front of Dallas.

“Hey, hey. Is it okay if I touch you?”

I want to say no, but instead I nod.

Why the hell did I nod?

He unfastens his seat belt and unlocks the door. The strains of The Tragically Hip’s “Bobcaygeon” fill the car. A few seconds later, the passenger door opens. Dallas leans into my personal space, releases my seat belt, and slides his hands behind my knees. It must be a sensitive part of my body, because that contact causes a jolt to buzz down my spine and settle in familiar places.

He adjusts my position so I’m sitting sideways, feet on the gravel. Dallas crouches in front of me so we’re eye to eye. One hand stays on my knee, and the other moves my hair away from my face and curves around the side of my neck. It’s intimate and gentle and so conflicting. I don’t want to need grounding right now, especially not from him.

“Take a deep breath, honey.” His thumb sweeps back and forth along the edge of my jaw.

“I don’t know what’s going on.” I gulp air, but it doesn’t fill my lungs.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He pulls me close, and I wrap my arms around him, holding on for dear life. Like he’s a buoy. Like he can save me from whatever this is. “I—I can’t breathe.”

---