Page 23 of Should I Fall
“I’m yours, Dash. All yours.”
He groans through one final thrust, stilling inside me as he releases himself.
I’m filled with such warmth, such love.
This is everything I’ve ever wanted.
Maybe I don’t know how it all works out, but I just know it will. A giggle escapes my throat at the thought of my family’s reaction to me moving away to live with an older, tattooed man in the mountains. They’ll think I’m crazy.
But for once, I just don’t care.
“Something funny?” Dash asks, kissing my forehead.
“Only if loving you is funny.”
“Want to know something funnier?”
“What’s that?”
“I love you too.”
Chapter Twelve
Dash
For the first time since June, I breathe in the crisp fall air of Cinnamon Creek—from downtown. For years, I’ve taken this place for granted. I’ve avoided people so I didn’t have to face my guilt about the fire.
But no one gives me a dirty or disgusted look.
Some of them are admittedly confused, not just by my rare appearance, but by my smiling.
But fuck it.
I’m a happy man.
I’ll smile all damn day if I want to.
“You have to try Ivy’s cinnamon rolls,” I say to Stormi when I return to my truck and hand her the bakery bag. “They’ll change your life.”
“You really love your sweets, don’t you?” she teases.
My eyes purposely drop to her pussy for several seconds, then back to her bright blue gaze. “I sure do.”
When I went into the bakery, Stormi opted to stay in my truck. She was determined to see if her smashed phone was salvageable. Judging by the way it sits in her lap now, screen cracked and black, I’m guessing it didn’t work.
“You can get a new one,” I reassure her.
“I know. But for now, you better get me back to the lodge. I need to talk to Erin.”
It’s not until we’re in the parking lot that I feel the first hint of panic rise in my chest. The reality of the situation begins to surface.
We spent all night—and most of this morning—naked and tangled in one another. I know every inch of her body. How it tastes, how it feels, which spots make her whimper in delight. But the one thing we didn’t do was talk about the future.
“Stormi—”
“I’m going to need to go back,” she says, averting my gaze. “To Omaha. At least for a little while. I need to make sure my sister is okay?—”
“This isn’t going to work, is it?”
