Page 11

I left my room in nothing but my tiny orange bikini and headed down the hallway toward the living room, following my link that led me directly to Dash.

I found him on the couch drinking a beer and flicking through the channels on the television. His hair was all mussed and wild on top as if he’d been roughly running his fingers through it.

He should have been outside with everyone else instead of being in here alone watching television.

But I guess he wasn’t really alone though, was he? I was here with him.

I walked across the room on silent feet, and he was too lost in his thoughts to see me coming.

His head snapped up as I came into view, and I rushed him before he could get any funny thoughts. I climbed into his lap and straddled him.

“Ariel?” His eyes widened in alarm. “What in the world are you doing?”

Oh goody, I’d surprised him. I’d use that to my advantage, because clearly I needed all the help I could get where his stubborn ass was concerned.

“Why are you still avoiding me, Dash?” I asked bluntly, done pussyfooting around with him. “Don’t you think it’s been long enough? Don’t you think you should stop punishing me by now? It’s my birthday, and you can’t be a dick to me on my birthday. It’s practically a law.”

Dash groaned as he wrapped his hands around my hips and held me in place to stop me from inching forward any more. I wanted to rub my wet heat over the bulge starting to grow in his swim shorts.

It had been far too long since Dash and I had been intimate. I missed him. Now that I had him beneath me, I knew exactly what I wanted, and I wanted him. Desperately so.

He closed his eyes tightly almost as if he were in pain. “Ariel, I’m not trying to punish you, I swear I’m not. Please, I don’t want you to think I’m mad at you because I’m not. I’m mad at myself, with good reason, and you know that.”

Man, he really drove me nuts.

Dash had issues with women because of his mother and grandmother. They’d really done a number on him and had fucked him all up. He also had more scars on his body than I did. His entire back was covered in a layer of scar tissue.

As a result, he’d been a bit of a manwhore when it came to the ladies before me. He’d had girlfriends, but they’d never lasted longer than a few months, and they were a means to a sexual release.

I was the first female he’d ever had a long-term relationship with and the first woman he ever loved. We were the forever kind of love, and if shit went south, we were fucked because that link between us was going absolutely nowhere.

And I finally understood what he was saying. Dash hadn’t been punishing me this whole time. He wasn’t mad at me. He was mad at himself. And he was punishing himself by pushing me away and keeping me at arm’s length.

His recent behavior was really hurting me, but what I hadn’t realized was that it might be hurting him more than it was actually hurting me.

“You need to stop doing this,” I said in a gentle voice as I cupped his cheeks. The rough, coarse hair of his beard scratched against the palms of my hands. “You’re hurting both of us, and I’m tired of hurting, Dash. You ought to be tired of hurting by now too, damn it. I don’t even understand why you’re still mad. I’m fine, and you got your dad back home, and we’re both safe. I don’t know what you had to be mad about in the first damn place.”

My chest rose and fell rapidly as I panted. I’d gotten myself all worked up, and now I was good and mad and more than ready to fight with him if that was what it took to make him see sense.

“Stop talking,” he bit out angrily, and his eyes flashed dangerously. “I already told you I wasn’t mad at you, and I meant it. I’m upset with the way I treated you and the fact you put yourself in danger for my dad. I don’t know how—”

I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his gently, silencing him. “Prove it to me. Prove you aren’t mad at me.”

I ground down against his cock and rubbed myself on him through our clothing. It was my none too subtle way of letting him know how he could tell me he really wasn’t mad at me anymore. I also thought that if we had sex, it would put an end to his bullshit behavior and we could finally get back to normal.

“I miss you,” I whispered hoarsely.

I’d seen the war in his eyes and knew I had to pull out the big guns or I’d lose, and who the hell knew how long he could continue to do this dance for?

“I love you and I miss the fuck out of you.”And fucking you, but I left that part out, I didn’t want to scare him. And yes, this was most certainly a moment worthy of the F-word.

Too much quality time spent around Quinton had me feeling like most moments were worthy of the F-word. That man had a mouth on him. It was rubbing off on me.

I wished something else would rub off on me.

It looked like the time to take matters into my own hands was upon me once again.

I reached behind me and reached for the strings on my back that belonged to my bikini. When I got the knot out, I reached up and untied the one at the back of my neck.