I let him buy the beautiful ring, but it’s not like I would’ve been able to stop him.
Especially after his confession. It’s replaying on a constant loop in my head and the words sink into my skin with deeper clarity with each second that passes. Had it been any other man, I would’ve ran for the hills from even that small touch of intimacy. Instead, I feel free and content, not suffocated.
Perhaps it’s because he said he’ll let me go, like he knew I needed that assurance. Except, my reaction to it was odd and something I’m not ready to face or admit just yet.
Throughout the entire ride back to the suite, I kept stealing glances at my hand as the shiny diamond blinks against the soft sunlight. We sit on the opposite ends of the back seat again but without the iciness and gloominess. Instead, a low pulsing tension is simmering in the air between us, charged with all-consuming lust because of the unforgettable non-kiss.
The memory of his lips, like a ghost against mine.
Just how will it feel if he actually kissed me? Will he be aggressive and dominant as he is every time we’ve come close to fucking? Or will he be soft and teasing?
I don’t know which excites me more.
I shiver when calloused fingers caress my forearm, pulling me from my musings. Frowning, I notice our car has stopped but we’re not outside the hotel. Hundreds of tourists surround us as they walk the vibrant and aristocratic street of Paris along the Seine while the Eiffel Tower stands tall along the bank.
Never have I seen utter beauty so close. I really hope we have time to visit the Eiffel Tower.
“A little sightseeing, then we’ll go back,” says Dash. I grab the door handle to step out when his voice halts me. “Wait.”
He elegantly steps out first, followed by the sexy move of buttoning his suit jacket the moment he stands tall, before rounding the car to my side. Our chests brush when he helps me out with my hand braced in his and I inhale sharply, his smoky scent drugging me. My left hand instinctively lands on his chest as I find my balance and we both look at the ring at the same time.
His mark of ownership.
It feels surreal and dreamy.
My sharp intake of breath is audible while his grip around my waist tightens, sending a shiver racing down my spine. I tilt my head and I’m struck by the savage possessiveness darkening his features. The dark lust lurking in the depths of his beautiful eyes. The shutting of the door breaks us apart and I put some space between us until it’s not just him I’m breathing.
“I’ll bring the car around when you’re ready to leave, Mr. Stern,” informs the driver before disappearing into the crowd.
“You wanna walk or eat first, kitten?” Dash asks, tucking me into his side with his arm around mine. It only feels natural as I lift my right hand and interlace our fingers together.
Both of us, aware of the intimacy yet we don’t pull away.
“I want to roam around a bit,” I answer.
No way am I wasting time on food when there is so much to see. Who knows when I’ll get another chance? My job as an interior designer pays really well but it’ll be a long while before I can afford a trip on my own to France. The second I got it, I stopped living off my parents, which was my foremost goal as soon as I graduated.
“Have you traveled here before?” I curiously ask Dash, who shows me all the different spots, a little story behind each landmark like my personal tour guide. His memory is really sharp and keen and more often than not, I become lost in him rather than the view.
“Twice. Both times for business conferences,” he admits. “I made time to explore the city on the second trip.”
Dash always had wanderlust and would often travel on a weekend-long trip as far as I can remember. It was obvious it was his way of de-stressing from the chaotic world. Either he spent his time working alone or with Justin in the past. Now that I think of it, it seems lonely and sad.
Suddenly, I’m curious to learn more about him.
“Isn’t traveling your hobby?”
His hand, which was playing with my fingers, pauses and as he peers down at me, a lock of his hair falls on his forehead. “It was.”
It’s my turn to stop on my tracks. “When was the last time you went on a vacation?”
“Just told you.”
“The business trips don’t count.”
“My last trip was to Vietnam when I was twenty-four.”
“You’re serious?” I gasp. That’s ages ago. “But you can travel anywhere you desire. Why haven’t you?”
“Having the world at your fingertips isn’t always a blessing, kitten. It often becomes a burden and takes sacrifices to continue. When you have no one, your work becomes your entire world.”
“It’s okay to take a break, Dash,” I tell him softly. “You already work too hard.”
“It’s all I have and I can’t afford to take a break, nor do I want to.”
“Is it worth having premature gray hair?”
His lips kick to the side at my sarcasm. “I’ll still be handsome. Besides, women love an older guy. You’re ten years younger than me and I make your pussy wet, don’t I, kitten?”
I shush his mouth and hide my blushing cheeks from passersby. “You can’t say that in public, Dash.”
His fingers curl around my wrist and he lowers it, but doesn’t let go. Mischief dancing in his forest green eyes, he teases, “What? That you love getting your pussy spanked or that your cunt tastes like the sweetest drug men would die for? Or that the taste of it still haunts me as much as the feel of it stretching around my cock?”
Holy fuck. Damn his filthy talking mouth—and my pussy that suddenly feels empty and quivers for him. Having him inside me was both pleasure and sweet pain. I had felt him for days after. Every dirty, sordid deed he did to my body is etched into my skin.
Yanking me closer until I’m standing on my toes and our lips a hairbreadth away, he speaks smugly, “Is that too indecent to say in public?”
“You’re shameless,” I insult him, only for it to come out throaty and breathless.
“You have no idea, sweetheart.” Tucking me into his arms again, he pulls us in the direction of a restaurant with outdoor seating. “Let’s get you fed, wifey.”
Despite the rush, we get a table in a nice little corner with a direct view of the Pont des Arts bridge and the Eiffel Tower. Dash sits across from me and he’s a handsome view himself. Hair tousled and his suits well-fitted that it’s obvious they are custom-made and my favorite are the ones where he also wears a vest, like the one today. So prim and proper, and a striking contrast to his dirty talking mouth and seductive eyes.
Who knew men in suits were my kryptonite?
I gaze around me while Dash orders for us in fluent French. Each syllable, raising goosebumps on my skin because of how sexy and confident he sounds. The silence as we wait for our food is serene and comfortable. My gaze is drawn to him every few seconds while something from our conversation pricks at the back of my mind.
“Dash.”
“Yeah, kitten?”
“How is your dad? Are you close with him?”
His shoulders immediately tense and the calmness evaporates from our table before his gaze flies to mine. The detached and impassive man staring back at me is unrecognizable, as though I’m peering into a stranger’s face. My stomach hollows upon realizing I touched a nerve.
“He died two years ago from cancer,” he replies, with not a trace of emotion. It’s as if he’s declaring a mere fact. I’m shocked he even answered. “And no, we weren’t close.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You never knew him.”
“I’m still sorry for your loss and that you had to go through it,” I say, hoping I sound soothing. “It’s never easy to lose a family member, no matter if you were close or not.”
I stare blankly at the menu while regretting why I even asked. I had to go and open my mouth just when his mood lifted. No wonder he’s a private person. I feel terrible for believing he was intentionally hiding information about his life. I’m even more startled when he speaks again.
“I had a father but never a family, Bianca.” His voice is firm and once our gazes collide, he continues, “My mother died giving birth to me and rather than just her, I lost both my parents that day. My dad dedicated any love he had left to the army while I grew up with nannies that I lost count of while moving from one city to another. Most kids’ childhood memories are of family trips, bonding over sports with their dad, and all I have are of packing my bags every few months, sometimes even weeks, saying goodbye to yet another city while staring out the window of a train. My father was a cold and rigid man who believed emotions were for a lesser man and I was a burden he had to carry around. The only reason I know he’s gone is because his lawyer sent me his will.”
The man he describes is nothing like the one Niall told me about. He worshiped the guy and said he was the father he never had. It’s disturbing to hear a parent could neglect their own son while being everything to another.
Was this the reason behind the animosity between Niall and Dash? It’s like I’m seeing the past replay in a new reality that I couldn’t have predicted.
Tears sting my eyes. One escapes and emotions clog my throat as I listen to every heartbreaking word he says. However, it’s not pity but only sadness I feel for the little boy who never had a loving family.
My parents have flaws but at least they gave us a home filled with equally happy and sad memories. Unlike him, I was never alone.
Dash is not as invincible and ruthless as I made him out to be.
Just like me, he’s guarded, imperfect, and has demons in his past he hides beneath his rough and sharp edges. Nevertheless, he is also strong, intelligent, and has made a name for himself when most would have drowned in sorrow.
“It’s his loss, Dash,” I fiercely tell him. I don’t know if it makes me a bad person but I hate his dead father. My heart freezes when Dash’s gaze softens, like he didn’t expect it and he continues to stare with such intensity that every noise fades into the background.
“You might be the only person who believes that, kitten,” he says in a hollow voice.
Just then, the waiter arrives with the food and our connection breaks. The haunting look, now gone, and I take it as a sign he’s done sharing for today. But no matter what, I can’t erase what he said at the end. It’s sad to think he believes he doesn’t deserve to be his father’s son, when it should be the opposite.
I promise myself I’ll show him how wrong he is. The same way he’s unknowingly made me want to let go of the past.
The rest of our lunch passes by smoothly without any more heavy talk and it’s pleasant. From the scenic beauty, the people, to the freaking weather, everything about Paris is breathtaking and unforgettable. The atmosphere feels magical and I’ve never felt the love in the air more potently than here, in Paris, as I glance at cute couples, and families enjoying themselves.
It gives me hope for the first time in years, reminding me I was a hopeless romantic for a reason. Maybe that girl is still alive inside me.
As I wait for Dash while he’s gone inside the restaurant, my eyes land on a young couple a distance away as they walk on the bridge. The boy has his arm around her shoulders as he whispers to her. At the same time, he shows something in his other hand, which makes the girl smile bright. She shakes her head at whatever he said but he looks adamant, making me highly intrigued. I watch as he guides her to a corner and I smile in awe when he sneakily places what has to be a lock, not afraid of the fact that they’re breaking a rule. I don’t know whether to be worried or laugh at their boldness. Nevertheless, it’s beyond cute.
Love is crazy… I tell myself.
I’m so lost in them, I don’t even notice Dash coming back until he says, “Shall we go, wifey?”
I turn to him after the couple disappears while hoping I didn’t get caught at my day stalking. He stands tall and broad, peering down at me and it’s like a rush of déjà vu to the first time he surprised me and called me wifey.
It’s only been a week and he has managed to turn my world upside down. He came into my life like a tidal wave. Stealthily and powerfully. One minute, I was single, and now I have a fiancé that I share a home with, who apparently loves to spoil me rotten.
“I’m starting to get annoyed with the fact that you keep sneaking up on me, Dash,” I grumble.
He chuckles low, making me desperate to hear the sound of his actual laugh. “I obviously need to do a better job of having your attention on me constantly, especially when you’re alone.”
As if he isn’t already haunting my mind twenty-four seven. It’s become a sickness I want no cure of. I’m as aware of him as the beating heart inside my chest.
Grabbing my hand, we make our way to the car and just as we reach it, he lets me go. I frown when he starts walking backward.
“I forgot something,” he informs me. “Wait here.”
Almost ten minutes later, he returns and as he jogs toward me, women ogle him like they want to lick him up. Once he’s by my side, I flash them my ring finger with a satisfied smirk. They look away with embarrassment written all over their cheeks.
“Kitten,” Dash rasps, amusement and desire in his voice. “Did you just give them the finger?”
I shrug innocently. “Just being a possessive fiancée.”
“Yeah. I’m sure that’s all it was,” he teases, fully aware I was jealous.
Thinking we’re leaving, I unlock the car door, only for him to push me against it. My breasts flush against his chest as he cages me in his arms, dwarfing my small frame. It used to intimidate me, but now I feel protected. Elbows bent, he lowers his head until our lips are shy of touching, then speaks in a rough voice, “I asked if I could kiss you that night and you said no.”
The hot memory ignites a throbbing feeling in my pussy. “I know.”
“Is it still a no, kitten?”
“It is.” He goes quiet and stares until I become breathless. I whisper his name in a plea, “Dash.”
“Then I won’t ask, I’ll just take.”
Shock paralyzes me as his lips descend on mine and he does as he promised. He takes, like he has every right. He takes, like my mouth was made to be kissed by him. Hungrily. Savagely. Thoroughly.
He doesn’t just take, he steals. My senses. My oxygen. My thoughts.
Every. Fucking. Thing.
And I let him.
Until we forget where he begins and I end.
His animalistic growl vibrates straight to my clit and my whimper is swallowed by him. Tilting my face the way he wants, he dominates my mouth and I kiss him back with fervor. Desperation. Greed.
It doesn’t feel like we’re playing a game to fool the world.
It feels real.
He feels like mine.
“Dash.” I moan when he pulls my bottom lip with his teeth before diving in again like he’s starved. I rise on my toes to let him in deeper and his hand snakes down to my throat possessively. When he squeezes a tiny bit, I become dizzy.
Wrenching his mouth back, violent and hungry eyes devour mine before lowering to my swollen lips. Tracing my bottom lip, he growls, “This is how you show that I belong to you.”
