You Again

by M. E. Clayton

  Me: Who do u think?

  Unknown: Not a clue.

  Me: Dash

  Dots flashed across the screen, but then they stopped, only to start up again. I could only imagine what her first reply was and what she amended it with. She probably started out telling me to go fuck myself, but then thought it best not to have evidence I could show her boss.

  Unknown: How may I help you, Mr. Weston?

  God, what I wouldn’t give to hear her say those words while bent over my desk.

  Me: I told u 2 call me Dash

  Spitfire: I’m not sure that would be appropriate, Mr. Weston

  Yep. She was afraid to leave evidence of what she really wanted to say, and I had to laugh. This woman was something else.

  Me: I think we r past what’s appropriate and what’s not, Ms. Everhart

  My phone rang like I knew it would.

  I couldn’t hide the smile in my voice. “Well, Henley,” I sing-songed, “what a surprise.”

  “Are you insane, texting something like that?” she growled in my ear. “What is wrong with you, Dash?”

  Fuck it.

  Time to be honest.

  “You want to know what is wrong with me? I’ll tell you what’s fucking wrong with me,” I growled back. “My dick doesn’t get hard anymore unless I’m reliving the night I spent with you. That’s what’s wrong with me.”

  She gasped, but then caught herself. “Will you be serious for a minute?” she snapped.

  “Oh, I am serious,” I assured her. “I’m so serious, I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself anymore.” In for an insane penny, in for an insane pound. “I dealt with it when I thought I was never going to see you again, but seeing you today? Henley, all I wanted to do was bend you over that conference table and fuck you in front of the entire fucking floor.” It was the truth, but I didn’t want her thinking I just wanted to fuck her. I wanted…whatever this had the potential to be. “I wanted to beat the ever lovin’ fuck out of Arnold. And, yes, I wanted to whip my dick out and piss a circle around you as my brother had so eloquently accused me of doing."

  “Are you drunk?” she asked incredulously.

  “No,” I bit out.

  “Are you high?” she asked, sounding convinced that I was.

  “No!” I thundered. “I’m not drunk or high. I haven’t hit my head. I’m not hallucinating or sleep dialing.”

  “So, then…you’re just crazy,” she retorted.

  I knew I should just hang up.

  I knew it.

  But I also knew there was no way I was going to be able to walk away from her without exploring what it was she did to me. That night at The Lux, my wounded ego aside, Henley had burrowed somewhere deep inside me with every whimper and moan she had gifted me with. Even after the alcohol had worn off, the desire and desperation hadn’t. I fucked her just as hard and savagely sober as I had when we were buzzed off our asses. I had wanted her to be there when I woke up and that pressing need to wake up to her had nothing to do with Whitney and her bullshit. And now that I knew where to find her, she was mine.

  “I’m coming for you, Henley,” I warned her. “You better be ready.”

  “Dash-”

  “And, this time, I’ll handcuff you to the bed if that’s what it takes to keep you with me.”

  And I would.

  Chapter 11

  Henley~

  My heart was racing like a dope fiend who just snorted up some cocaine while smoking an eight-ball after injecting some meth.

  My palms were even sweaty.

  I hadn’t heard from Dash after that ridiculous phone call Friday night, but I was set to meet with him in a few minutes for our first official meeting about what was expected of S.A.M. for their marketing vision. It was Wednesday afternoon, and I purposely scheduled this appointment late, so that if I had to kill him, there wouldn’t be many witnesses. The night guards could be a problem, but I wasn’t above flashing my boobs to get them to look the other way as I dragged Dash’s lifeless body out of the building.

  The scheduled meeting hadn’t been a problem initially, but when Scott had phoned me to tell me he wouldn’t be able to make it, it became a problem. I had offered to reschedule the meeting for a time that was more convenient for him, but he had assured me Dash could handle it. And he promised that Dash would be on his best behavior. I had thanked him, while failing to mention that it was probably my behavior that was dubious at best.

  After Max had whisked my sister away for all things sexual Friday night, I had practically suffocated myself in my thoughts about Dash. And just when I had tone down the madness to daily medication and not actual admittance into a psych ward, Dash had text me.

  I knew the second I had dialed his number that it had been a mistake, but I couldn’t have text evidence of our conversation, knowing him the way I did. But all the phone call had done was cause me to tumble further down the rabbit hole that was Dash Weston.

  I also, may or may have not, stuck my hand down my panties and rubbed one out to the sound of his voice saying he was coming for me. It had been the sexiest thing any man has ever said to me and I had used it to my advantage. His voice couple with the things I knew he could do to me had me cumming all over the place in ten minutes flat.

  It had been exhausting and satisfying, but terrifying also.

  Dash Weston was meant to be more than someone’s rebound. But was a person still rebounding once they realized there was nothing to rebound from? The hurt and humiliation of what Arnold had done was real. But it hadn’t taken me long to realize that I couldn’t have loved him that deeply if it had only taken a few days for the memories of what we had to fade. Whatever anger I still harbored for him was because he was a shitty person who had done a shitty thing to me, not because I was still mourning the loss of him.

  The phone on my desk buzzed, and it snapped me out of my musings. I hit the button and Maribel, the receptionist, announced, “Hey, Henley. Mr. Dash Weston is here for his appointment.”

  “Thank you, Maribel. Can you send him up? He knows his way,” I replied. “Oh, and let him know I’ll meet him at the elevators.”

  “Sure thing,” she said cheerfully.

  I hung up and made my way to the elevators. I could have easily gone downstairs to meet Dash, but I didn’t trust myself around him. All kinds of curse words were bound to be released in his presence and I’d rather do that in my office without witnesses. The last thing I needed was for Mr. Peridy to hear that I was cussing out our latest account.

  A few minutes later, the elevator doors dinged open and out walked a delicious-looking Dash Weston. He had a quiet masculinity to him and was both intriguing and sexy. Dash looked like he’d be a gentleman in most situations but gave off the vibe that he’d swing a fist or two if he had to.

  He smirked as he came and stood before me. “Henley,” he acknowledged.

  “Mr. Weston,” I greeted back.

  He leaned in and I almost kneed him in the balls when his left hand caressed my ass as he said, “Only when we’re roleplaying, baby.”

  I glanced around like an escaped convict looking for the route to freedom, but thankfully, no one seemed to be paying attention to us.

  Jerk.

  I gestured towards my office. “This way, please,” I gritted between my teeth. I didn’t wait to see if he would follow. I just started walking and went back and forth between hoping he was following me and hoping he hopped back onto the elevator and out of my life.

  We had just reached my office door when Arnold appeared out of nowhere. He spared Dash only a second’s glance before looking at me and asking, “Do you have a quick moment, Henley?”

  I could feel Dash tense up behind me, but I kept my attention on Arnold. “Not at the moment, Arnold,” I replied professionally. “I’m about to start a meeting with Mr. Weston.”

  His eyes flicked towards Dash standing behind me, but quickly returned to mine. “Then, afterwards?”

  “Uh…okay,” I mu
ttered vaguely. I couldn’t imagine what Arnold had to speak to me about, but I needed to get my meeting with Dash underway. “I’ll call you when my meetings over.” He gave me a satisfied nod before walking away.

  I glanced up at Dash and gestured towards the interior of my office. “After you.” Dash rolled his eyes, then placed his hand on the small of my back and escorted me inside.

  I was halfway to my desk when I heard the door shut and the lock click. I turned around and Dash was striding towards me like a predator with his prey in his sights.

  “D…Dash…”

  His hands were on my hips, and my ass was perched on the edge of my desk before I knew it. Dash’s legs forced my thighs apart, and he settled in between my opened legs like he belonged there. Before I could protest, his lips crashed down on mine and all thoughts of protesting flew out the window. His hands were tangled in my hair and my hands were fisted in the front of his shirt and one of us moaned.

  I was pretty sure it was me.

  Dash started pressing up against me and I could feel the outline of his hard cock through his tan slacks. And I momentarily felt horrified, thinking I was probably going to leave a wet mark on his clothes.

  Because I was wet.

  I was so fucking wet and that was just from a freakin’ kiss.

  I tore my lips away from his long enough to pant, “This is a bad idea, Dash.”

  “I don’t give a fuck,” came his gritted reply. “I miss the way you taste, Henley. I miss the way you feel pressed up against me. I miss how tight your pussy grips my cock. I miss how you moan my fucking name when I’m doing everything right. And I miss the way you scream my name when I’m driving you out of your fucking mind.”

  Oh.

  My.

  Sweet.

  Jesus.

  I wanted this. I wanted this more than I wanted it when I had used him to mend my broken heart three months ago. But I was at work, and he was a client-a big one.

  His lips skimmed across my jaw and I forced the last words I ever wanted to say to come out. “Dash, this is my place of work,” I gasped “I can get fired.”

  “So what?” he murmured against my skin. “Let them fire you. I’ll buy you your own firm.” What? But then I remembered he was in-the-millions rich.

  I shook my head and snapped out of the insanity threatening to take me under. I pushed against his chest. “Dash, stop,” I rushed out. “We need to stop.” His hands fell flat on my desk, and he bent his head until it was resting on my shoulder. His breathing was labored, and I knew it was killing him to stop.

  “I feel like I’m going crazy,” he admitted softly. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Henley.”

  “Dash…” I whispered, my hands pulling his face up, so I could look at him.

  He leaned in and this time his kiss was soft and sensual. “It’s been three months and I can’t get you out of my fucking head, Henley.”

  “I’m at work, Dash,” I reminded him. I was all for having this conversation-naked, preferably-but not here and not now.

  Dash straightened to his full six-three and gave me a defeated nod. “When?”

  I didn’t have to ask him what he meant. I knew already. “Tonight?” Uh…desperate much?

  “Okay,” he conceded. “But we’re doing this at your place. I’m not having you fucking sneaking out on me again.” That was the third time that he’s mentioned how I had left him at the hotel, and I was starting to realize he was really upset about that.

  I pushed him back, jump down from my desk, and straightened my clothes. I looked up into his stormy grey eyes and said, “Okay. My place. I’ll text you the address once I get off work.”

  Dash grabbed my chin in between his fingers and his next words startled the shit out of me. “Whatever Arnold has to talk to you about, it better be legit business, Henley,” he bit out. “Understand?”

  Well, okay, then.

  Chapter 12

  Dash~

  I felt like a caged tiger who knew it was seconds away from freedom.

  Stopping myself from fucking Henley on her desk earlier today had been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Everything male in me had wanted to fuck her dirty and send her to talk to that douchebag with my cum dripping down her thighs. But I had to settle with her smelling like my cologne instead.

  Once we had gotten our hormones under control, the meeting had actually gone pretty well. Henley knew her shit, and she easily grasped what Weston Technologies was about. She listened as I told her how I first started creating software and where my ideas came from. She listened as I shared with her how I had a tendency to get lost in work and lose hours of my life to whatever I was creating. She listened to me brag about Scott and everything he brought to the table.

  She. Had. Just. Listened.

  Towards the end of the meeting, she said she had some ideas she would work up and when she had some preliminaries, she’d call to schedule another meeting. I had cocked my head and raised a brow, and it had taken her only a few seconds to realize how standard business her words were because I planned on spending every night, from here on out, with her naked in my bed. She could show me her ideas any damn time she wanted.

  At that point, she had been adamant that we keep our work and personal situations separate. She was not going jeopardize her career for dick-her words, not mine. The sexist pig in me had wanted to remind her that I was rich, and she didn’t have to work. But then I’d have to divulge my plans on marrying her this Friday, and I wasn’t quite sure she was ready to hear that just yet.

  A knock at my door snapped me out of my wedding plans and I wondered who it could be. These days with the entire world having cell phones, most people shot off a text or something before just dropping by. And if Scott was here to kill me for blackmailing him into skipping out on our meeting with Henley today, surely, he wouldn’t knock on the front door of my condo and alert me, right? That was a terrible murdering plan.

  Opening the front door without looking through the peephole because-come on, it could only be my brother-I found Whitney on my fucking doorstep…or door hallway…or door floor. I shook my head. Whatever. The point was that Whitney was standing at my door and I had no fucking idea why she would be.

  So, I told her so. “What in the fuck are you doing here?” I snapped.

  Her big blue eyes were shining when she looked up at me. “Oh, Dash, please don’t be like that,” she cried out theatrically. “I…I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  Jesus Christ. How could I have spent a year with someone so stupid? I mean, she had to be super stupid if she believed I gave any kind of fucks about whatever drama she was going through, right?

  “What are you talking about?”

  She peeked behind me into my condo. “Can I come in?” My expression must have said it all because she quickly added, “Please, Dash. This is so…embarrassing, and I don’t want to give your neighbors a show.”

  I take it back.

  Whitney wasn’t stupid.

  Whitney was fucking nuts.

  “Hell no,” I let out. “There’s no way I’m letting you inside my place.”

  “Dash, this is important,” she pleaded.

  “I don’t give a fuck,” I replied. “I don’t care what you have going on, Whitney, so just leave.”

  “I’m pregnant!” she blurted out. I stared at her, stunned. “I’m pregnant, Dash, and…I don’t know what to do.”

  I reined in my annoyance at her being here and called on Jesus and all his baby angels to be the decent one here. “What’s that have to do with me, Whitney?”

  Whitney’s head reared back, and she went from damsel-in-distress to insulted in a blink of an eye. “What do you mean, Dash?” she spat. “The baby’s yours.”

  I laughed.

  I laughed so hard, I had to brace my hands on my knees. I was laughing so hard that it took me a second to realize my phone had buzzed in my back pocket. Once I got myself under control, I pulled my phone out and saw it
was Henley’s text with her address. I was going to text her back but decided to call her instead. I needed complete honestly for the start of our relationship. No rebound bullshit.

  She answered on the second ring. “Dash?”

  I kept my eyes pinned on Whitney’s as I spoke to Henley. “Hey, baby, I’ll be running a little late,” I told her.

  “Oh…uh, okay,” Henley replied. “Is everything okay?”

  “Whitney just showed up at my condo,” I answered smoothly.

  “Whitney?”

  The succubus in question slapped her hands on her hips and just glared like she had the right. “Yeah, my ex-girlfriend,” I clarified. “I hadn’t mentioned her before now because she wasn’t worth mentioning.” Whitney gasped.

  “Oh,” Henley whispered. “Let me guess. She’s the reason you were at the bar that day.”

  “She was.” Before Henley could get the wrong idea, I added, “She’s here, trying to tell me she’s pregnant with my child.”

  “Oh, well…that’s…big news,” she muttered hesitantly. “Con…uhm…gratulations?”

  I snorted. “She’s lying, like the lying, cheating horrible human being that she is.”

  Whitney’s outrage could be heard down the street. “How dare you? I am pregnant,” she insisted.

  I kept Henley on the line as I addressed Whitney’s ridiculousness. “You might be pregnant, but that child is most certainly not mine, Whitney.”

  “How can you say that?” she squawked. “We’ve only been broken up for a couple of months.”

  “Three, to be exact,” I corrected her. “But considering that we hadn’t slept together a month, or so, before that because I was working on the Telecorp software, you would have missed your period a month before we broke up, Whitney. Unlike you, because you were getting dick on the regular, I kept track of how little we were having sex because the neglect on my part bothered me. It’s the reason I shut down shop early that day to surprise you.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to stare me down. “Are you sure about that?”

  I snorted. “Let’s not forget the fact that I always used the condoms I made sure to buy myself. I’m not ready for kids, and I made sure to take every precaution short of abstinence.” My next statement was said for two reasons. First, I wanted Henley to hear how much she’s come to mean to me. Second, I wanted Whitney to hear how much Henley meant to me. “There’s only one woman I have ever fucked raw and didn’t give a fuck about protection with, Whitney. And that’s the woman on the phone with me right now.”