Page 115 of Dash

I almost come right there and when he pulls his hand away, I make a pathetic whimper.

He leans back in his seat, his arm draped around the back of my chair. His expression is smug, like he knows exactly what he does to me.

“That’s it. Pussy privileges are revoked.” He snorts. “I mean it. No touching the kitty after that… teasing.”

I don’t hear what filth he was going to deliver because he suddenly sits up straight, blocking my body with his as a shadow falls over the table.

It’s only the server, but he shields me as if there’s an assassin threatening my life.

We order food, then he threads his fingers through mine on top of the table, stroking his thumb over my knuckles.

“You feeling okay?” he asks, his eyes searching my face.

“Surprisingly, yes.”

As soon as the plates are put in front of us, I instantly regret not getting fries. I eye his plate, my mouth already watering. Little golden strips of carb happiness mock me. Suddenly, my sad sandwich doesn’t fill me with joy.

His eyes lift as he reaches for his burger. Then he slides his plate towards me, angling it so I can reach them.

I grin, grabbing one and dipping it in the BBQ sauce on the side of his plate.

I moan the minute the potato touches my tongue. “Why did I think I didn’t need deep- fried happiness?” He doesn’t say a word, just scrapes his fries onto my plate. “Whoa, I’m not going to eat your food. I should have ordered some.”

“Eat your deep-fried happiness.” He picks up his burger and takes a bite, his tattooed fingers wrapped around the bun.

“Now, that’s love. You literally gave me the food off your plate. Careful, Maddox, people will think you have a heart.”

He reaches out and wipes the corner of my lip, sauce on his thumb. I almost combust when he puts it in his mouth, sucking it off. This man is going to be the death of me. “Only for you.”

“Is it possible to get pregnant while you’re already pregnant?” I breathe.

He snorts, shaking his head as he takes another bite of his burger.

By the time we get home, I’m exhausted, filled with food, and probably happier than I have ever been in my entire life. Dash leaves me on the couch while he goes to run a bath.

When he returns, I’m wrapped in his hoodie like it’s some sort of security blanket, and his eyes are soft when he holds his hands out.

I don’t protest when he takes me into the bathroom and strips me out of my clothes, one piece at a time.

He takes his time examining my changing body, his fingers trailing over my fuller hips like they’re sacred.

Then he kisses me and helps me into the tub like he’s scared I’ll fall if he doesn’t. Once I’m in the water, he undresses slowly. My eyes trail over every inch of him, as he unwraps the ink work on his skin, the tattoos I’ve traced on lazy mornings in bed.

He climbs in behind me, the water sloshing as he sits. Then my back is against his chest, and his arms are around my stomach, resting over our baby. I can feel his hardness against me, feel his warmth surrounding me as I lean my head back, letting my eyes close.

I know nothing will happen to me here. He won’t allow it.

Dash kisses every part of me he can reach—my shoulder, my cheek, down my jaw, and up to my temple.

Cherished.

Adored.

Fucking loved.

“Thank you for today.” My voice is sleepy. “I know that was hard for you.”

“It’s only hard because the thought of something happening to you makes me want to set fire to the world.”

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