Incredibly it seems, because I never, ever orgasmed with Brandon, and I mean ever, I’m there again, my sex spasming with an intensity that steals my breath. Dash drives into me again, his hand on my breast, as he groans with pleasure, his body quaking.
“Holy fuck, woman, you’re trying to kill me,” he says, long moments later, his lips at my ear.
“I’m half on you and half on the kitchen island.” I can feel him smile, as crazy as that sounds, and he turns me, and sets me on the barstool, grabbing me a napkin and pulling out of me, pressing it to me.
“You okay?”
I laugh. “Just okay? Is that all the credit you give us?”
His expression softens and he brushes hair behind my ear, his touch tender, sending a shiver down my spine. That’s how responsive I am to this man. I’ve just succumbed to not one, but two orgasms, and he can still make me shiver. “You’re good for me, Allie.”
I catch his hand. “But you don’t think you’re good for me.” It’s not a question. I don’t have to ask. I know his answer.
It’s at that moment, his phone rings where we’ve each automatically left them sitting on the kitchen island. Dash’s lips press. “That thing has terrible timing.”
“Maybe it’s Bella with good news. You better take it.”
He reaches for it and glances at the screen. “It’s Bella.” He answers the call.
I slide off the stool, and around him, to find a trashcan, and Dash hasn’t said much. It’s all Bella with this conversation it seems. I start getting dressed and finish pulling on my clothes when Dash ends the call and reaches for his pants.
“Well?”
“No news yet,” he says. “She sent us both the link to Allison’s Instagram.”
“And?” I ask eagerly. “What aren’t you saying?”
He folds his arms across his chest, his expression troubled. “She hasn’t posted in about six weeks. Up to that point, she posted daily.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Allison won’t return calls. She won’t return text messages. She left her dream job and from all accounts unexpectedly and abruptly. “Dash,” I say, scooping up my clothes, “This feels off. Don’t you think?”
“You have to remember that she chose to leave her job and her home. She resigned, she packed up her house—”
“Unless she didn’t,” I argue. “What if she didn’t pack up her house, Dash? What if someone just wanted her to seem as if she packed up on her own?”
“Didn’t she resign?”
“That’s what I’m told, but I want confirmation. What if it wasn’t official? What if it was just an email or voicemail to Tyler?”
“Baby, I’m former FBI. You know I know how these things work. Right now, we don’t have much to stir urgency in the police. She left by choice and until we know more, that’s a documented fact. Until that changes—”
“If Tyler tells us differently? Will that help?”
His lips press together with the mention of Tyler. “We just need to know more.”
“Can you check in with Jack on her new contact information?”
“He sent me a text this morning. No new contact information available.”
“Should there be?” I ask.
“Not necessarily. For all we know, she’s local and living with that guy she was seeing and everything is in his name.”
Or she’s dead, I think, and it’s such a horrible thought, I don’t say it out loud. “What if she was running away from something or rather someone, and they caught up with her? She isn’t posting. She won’t reply to messages. I know I’m on repeat, but I’m making my case, to an FBI agent, who I know knows more than I do. Make me feel better about this. Please.”
“All of what you said could all be by design,” he argues. “Maybe she doesn’t want to be found. I’ve seen that more often than you might think.”
One of those raw nerves of mine rears its ugly head and drives my response. “Maybe she needs help, Dash. I mean, if my mom is gone, I’m alone. Maybe she’s alone.”
He catches my hand and pulls me to him, stroking my hair. “I know how afraid you are of losing your mother. I know how alone just thinking about it makes you feel, but you are not going to lose your mother. And you are not alone. You have her. You have me.”
I have him. Do I? I don’t really know. And yet, after all that has happened, we’re together, we’re surviving. Which is why I remind myself to dare to be vulnerable with him, because he has to feel vulnerable with me after all I saw last night, and he is still standing here. “I need to tell you why I pushed back at the idea of moving in with you, Dash.”
His hands fall away from my body, a clear physical and emotional withdrawal “And why you’re going to say no now?”