Edge of Bliss (Love on the Edge Book 3) Page 2

  “What the hell you doing, John?” Dash said, two beers in his hand. “Moving in on my woman?”

  John scoffed and unwrapped his arm from around me. “Please,” he said, spinning the pool cue in his hand. “Comforting her over losing to me so badly. Gentlemanly thing to do, you know.”

  Dash handed me a beer. “Uh huh.”

  “Don’t let it get to you, Blake,” Paul said, coming up behind Dash. “I’m about to beat his ass anyway.”

  “Is that right?” John said. “Money where your mouth is?”

  “How much?” Paul took the cue out of my hand.

  “No, it’s okay. I was done,” I said, widening my gaze at Dash as I relinquished the pool cue. He merely shrugged and pulled me to an open table across the bar. I took a seat next to him, sighing. The conversation with John had made me feel better and a little uptight at the same time. “Sorry,” I said, before clamping a hand over my mouth.

  Dash’s mega-watt grin shaped his lips, and he quickly set his beer down, rubbing his hands together. “First, I have no idea why you just said that, but I’m so glad you did.” He laughed deviously as pushed back from the table and eyed his lap.

  “Really? Here?” Heat rushed to my cheeks, my heart racing.

  “You know the rules.”

  I shook my head, cursing myself. After finally getting out of a horribly toxic relationship with my ex over a year ago, I’d left it with some baggage. One of those issues being I apologized . . . for everything. Dash had been trying to break me of the habit every day since. And his methods had worked remarkably well, but sometimes I had the occasional slip.

  “We’re in public,” I finally said but I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face.

  “I’m not the one who said it.” He spun his finger, motioning me to stand and turn. “If you postpone much longer I’ll have to add a couple more just to make sure you get the point.”

  My lips popped open, knowing he wasn’t kidding. I groaned as I slipped off my chair. I darted my gaze around the half-full bar, praying no one would pick now to look our way as I turned my back to Dash.

  “Now, Blake, do you know why you’re about to get spanked?” Dash asked teasingly.

  I clenched my eyes shut, the once dull heat a full-on roar over my face now. “Because I said sorry,” I answered with the correct response. Damn, it had been a whole month since the last time he’d spanked me and that, at least, had been in his bedroom.

  “That’s right,” he said before kissing the palm of his hand and letting it fall hard on my butt, the motion carrying just enough sting to make warmth unfurl in my core. “You get two for trying to get out of it.” He spanked me again before spinning me to sit properly on his lap, his green eyes on me with a fiery stare. “Want to tell me what you were about to senselessly apologize for?”

  I playfully shoved at his chest and moved back to my chair. “You trying to get me to slip again?”

  He arched an eyebrow at me. “I do enjoy it when you slip.”

  “I know you do.” I did, too. I took a sip of my beer in an attempt to slow my heartbeat.

  “Spill, woman.”

  I set my beer down, tracing my finger over the top of the bottle. “About my reaction this morning to Daniel’s idea.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He rolled his eyes. “It was a deserved spanking.”

  I chuckled. “Well, I didn’t want you to think I wanted to hide our relationship or anything.”

  He pinned me with that gaze of his—the one that begged me to be smarter than my words. “You know I’d never think that.”

  I shrugged, taking another drink. We’d been together a year, and there were times I felt like we’d known each other our whole lives—then there were times, especially when it came to intimate moments, that I felt completely inadequate. It was never anything Dash did—God no, he did all the right things. Things that would make a Greek god look like an amateur, but I only had one other relationship to compare it to, and the sex had been selfish and quick. Dash opened my eyes in every way a person could, yet it being in a healthy relationship was still very new to me. Which made me want to guard it with everything I had.

  “What’s the real line of thought?” he asked, nudging me with his knee under the table.

  I turned toward him. “This.” I pointed between us. “Us. It’s intense.” His eyebrows shot up, fear coating his eyes, so I quickly pushed on. “An amazing, wonderful kind of intense. And I just don’t know if I want to put it up there for public scrutiny. You know?”

  His shoulders dropped a fraction as he sighed. “I get that,” he said, cupping my cheek. “But you have to understand that I don’t have an agenda when it comes to Daniel or the show or what the network wants. Of course, I’m stoked to have the funds and to know that our science will be reaching viewers across the country soon, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to jump hoops for it. Especially if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  “It doesn’t,” I said too fast.

  “Blake,” he said so softly I nearly melted into a puddle right there.

  “Okay.” I shifted in my seat. “The idea of who knows how many people watching us make out seems a little invasive.”

  He smirked. “What’s the difference between a crowded bar and a few million viewers?”

  My throat closed up with just the thought. Being on camera alone was a new adjustment I was making. Allowing them to film moments when Dash and I got lost to our . . . passions? I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to that.

  “Relax,” he said, pushing back the hair hanging over my shoulders. A warm chill raced up my spine, and I suddenly wanted to return to what we’d been doing before our stomachs had begged us for more fuel. “I’ll always take care of you. You say no, and it won’t happen. I don’t care what the consequences are.”

  “Do you think there would be backlash if we said no?”

  He shrugged, taking a long drink of his beer. “I don’t know. Doesn’t matter, though. We won’t tell them anything one way or the other. And we’ll just have to suck it up and keep it cool when we’re on a chase.”

  It was my turn to arch an eyebrow at him. “Will it be easy for you?”

  “Fuck no,” he said, gripping the back of my neck and pulling me closer. “All I can ever think about is the next time I get to touch you, Blake. Keeping my hands to myself while the cameras are around? That’ll be harder than not falling over next to an EF-5.”

  My thighs clenched from his words and from his signature rain scent that enveloped both of us. It lingered on my skin as if he’d imprinted it there, and it drove me wild. I gently pressed my lips against his before catching those green eyes with mine. “Maybe I’ll forget the cameras are there. You are great at distracting me.”

  “Yeah,” he said, smoothing a hand over my thigh. “I bet if you gave me long enough I could make you forget your own name.”

  I laughed but heat rushed over my skin.

  “All kidding aside,” he said, splaying his hand on the table. “I want you to love what we do. The show, me, chasing. I don’t want you to dislike a second of it.”

  I laid my hand over his. “I couldn’t. Hey,” I said, forcing him to look at me. “I know when we first met I said I wanted to be on a network as a meteorologist, but this is almost the same thing—”

  “This is nothing like that, Blake,” He cut me off before I could add that this job was so much better than I’d ever dreamed. “This is chasing every day of the season,” he continued. “Making the hard push to ensure they get their episode quota. It’s not relaying weather reports to the public—being the one to tell them to duck and cover when the time comes.”

  Couldn’t fault his logic there. And I still wanted to do that, someday, but how could I turn down a full-time gig? Especially when it came with Dash, twenty-four seven?

  “It’s a network. And it comes with you, plus our own lab, and the proper gear to really make a difference. I’m on board. I told you that from day one.”
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  He nodded. “I know, but I also know you. This isn’t your dream.”

  “This is better,” I said, my heart overflowing with how lucky I was. Not everyone got the opportunity to do what they loved—what set their blood on fire—with the one person in the world who matched the intensity with his kiss.

  “I hope so,” he said before silencing the conversation with one of those very heart stopping kisses I’d been thinking about.

  “You see?” John said, pulling a chair back and dropping into it so fast Dash had barely gotten his tongue out of my mouth. “You two can’t quit. Might as well get paid for it.”

  Dash clenched his eyes shut, shaking his head.

  “What?” Paul asked, sitting next to John. “The man isn’t right often, but he gets close sometimes.” He clapped John on the back.

  I raised my beer toward the center of the table. “To selling out, then.”

  The boys raised their beers to mine, clinking it. “Cheers,” they said before we all took ridiculously long drinks.

  “Seriously, though,” Paul said after a loud burp that made me cringe despite being used to it. “You two are insane. Might as well go ahead and make it official. The network would probably pay for it. Hell, they may even make it a two-parter.” He pointed to his chest, a hilarious grin on his face. “And I can officiate.”

  “Oh my God, you can not!” I laughed, setting my empty beer bottle down as I leaned over the table.

  “Can too. The internet has made anything possible.”

  I glanced at Dash when Paul looked entirely too real about his joke. Dash nodded slightly, his lips pressed together. My jaw may have come unhinged as I looked back to Paul. “Why would you do that?”

  “Come on, Blake. You know how many chicks I’ve landed just by stating that little fact? It makes me more romantic or something to them.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Doesn’t discredit the fact that when you two finally decide to turn your nauseating face-suck fest into something real, I’ll be the guy to make it happen.”

  My chest tightened and expanded to entertain the fantasy at the same time. Marrying Dash didn’t seem far-fetched, but we hadn’t even discussed living together, let alone committing to a lifetime together. Plus, for nearly eight years I’d been firmly against the entire idea of marriage—I simply hadn’t believed in it. That notion was hard to let go of, no matter how amazing Dash was.

  I spared a glance to him, fully expecting to find him giving Paul the finger, or at least a death stare to silently communicate to him to shut the hell up.

  But he was staring at me, his eyes warm emeralds. He didn’t flinch, or break my glance. He held me there until my heart raced so hard I was sure it’d bust out of my chest.

  “Speaking of hotties who will find my devotion to true love romantic . . .” Paul said, drawing my gaze as he grabbed his glass and headed toward the bar where a redhead sat, drinking a fruity concoction and laughing with her friends.

  The tension of the moment burst like a popped bubble. “That boy’s kryptonite is redheads.”

  “Cheers,” John said again, tapping our beers together before draining the last of his. “Mine too.” He pushed back from the table, leaving Dash and I to ourselves.

  “You okay?” he asked, and I tilted my head.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He rubbed his hands together. “Don’t know. Paul dropped that M-word idea, and you froze up. Where is your head at?”

  I shook it quickly. “Nowhere.”

  He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I know you were with”–he swallowed hard—“him for longer than you should’ve been, and that he made you hate the idea of marriage. And I know this is all really new to you.” He placed his hand on my thigh. “I’m never going to push you in any direction you don’t want to go—whether it be storms or . . .”

  I didn’t let him finish his sentence, electing instead to climb onto his lap and press my lips to his. I raked my fingers through his hair, enjoying the way his muscles relaxed underneath me as he held me to him. He tasted like the warm honey notes of our beer and pure Dash. I’d never get my fill of him, and all at once it wasn’t enough.

  “Dash,” I whispered, slowly moving my hips against him with little regard to who might be watching.

  “Already? We haven’t even eaten, woman.”

  The growl in my stomach sounded at his reminder, and my shoulders sank. He gripped a handful of my ass, jerking me against him in the most delicious way as he nibbled my bottom lip.

  “Maybe just an appetizer?” he suggested.

  I nodded. “Good idea.” I covered his mouth with mine again, realizing that this was probably the worst way to get a waitress’s attention, but not able to really help myself either. Dash’s hands slipped underneath the hem of my shirt, his fingers teasing the skin of my sides, and I completely forgot food existed. “Wait, doesn’t the hotel have room service?”

  He smiled against my lips. “Only one way to find out.” He stood up, allowing me to slide slowly down his body, my core flaring with every inch of hard muscle I felt.

  Two steps toward the door and my cell vibrated in my pocket. “Damn,” I said, pulling on his hand to stop him. “It’s probably my mom.” I reached for it, knitting my eyebrows when I read an unknown number on the screen. I shrugged and swiped it. “Hello?”

  “Blake Caster?” an authoritative male asked on the other end of the line.

  “Yes?”

  “This is Officer Cormick with the Moore Police Department.”

  My heart stalled in my chest, the blood draining from my face so fast my head spun. Dash noticed the shift and quickly moved me back to my seat.

  “What happened?” I asked, my voice trembling as images of my mother in a car accident blurred my vision.

  “I’m contacting you because you’re listed as the in case of emergency contact for a Justin Hobbs?”

  The sound of my ex’s name spoken out loud made ice shoot through my veins. A rock lodged itself in my throat, relief barely touching the tension in my chest as I realized it wasn’t my mom who was hurt.

  “Yes?” I couldn’t articulate another word. Justin and I hadn’t spoken since that day on campus when I’d threatened him with a restraining order if he tried to contact me again. That didn’t mean I hadn’t thought about him—how could I not? We’d known each other for over a decade.

  “He’s in the hospital.” I gasped, but the officer continued. “A bar fight.”

  That sounded like Justin.

  “Got pretty ugly. He’s being held for observation. Wasn’t sure if you wanted to come see him before I take him in.”

  I blinked slowly, trying to comprehend the situation. “Take him in?”

  “Yes, ma’am. This is his third violent offense. He’ll have to do jail time.” A few moments of stunned silence and he pressed on. “We retrieved your information from a former employer. Since he’s in the hospital, unconscious, I thought you might want to know.”

  I cleared my throat, unsuccessfully trying to dislodge the lump in my throat. Though my hate for Justin had lessened over the time I’d spent without him in my life, there was a part of me remained that felt responsible for his actions.

  Jail? What the hell happened, Justin?

  I glanced to Dash, who had sunk to his knees in front of me, showing support and concern all at once as he looked up at me. I straightened my spine. “I can’t be there. I’m on a storm chase in Texas.”

  “Understood,” the officer said after a few moments. “Do you know anyone else we can call for him?”

  “Yes,” I said, and after a quick search on my phone, I relayed the last known number I had for Justin’s aunt. I hoped it was enough, because though the part of me that felt responsible for Justin was still there, it wasn’t big enough to uproot the life I’d created away from him. That didn’t mean I wanted him to wake up alone.

  “Thank you, ma’am. Is there any message you’d like me to deliver when
he wakes up?”

  “No,” I said. “Thank you, Officer, but we’re no longer connected.”

  “All right. Have a good night, Ms. Caster.”

  “You too.” I clenched my eyes shut and hung up the phone, a weight on my chest I thought I’d rid myself of over a year ago.

  “Blake?” Dash pressed his hand to my cheek. “What is it?”

  I shook my head, shrugging. “Justin’s in the hospital.”

  Dash dropped his hand, clenching it into a fist. “Is he okay?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  “I think so?” I shoved my phone back into my pocket. “Good enough to haul him off to jail once he wakes up.”

  Dash’s eyebrows raised. “Really?”

  “That’s what the cop said.” I rubbed my palms over my face. “Third strike or something.”

  Good Lord, what had he done? What had he become? What had I turned him into?

  “Blake,” he said my name again, this time practically begging. “Don’t do this.”

  “What?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, the frustration coming off him in waves. “I can see it in your eyes. That same look I thought was in our past. The one where you take the blame for his actions.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath, swallowing the tears that threatened to overwhelm me. What was it about me that let Justin in even when we hadn’t spoken for a year? How was it possible to hurt over someone who had done nothing but cause me pain?

  Shaking my head, I forced the guilt away. “You’re right,” I said, and Dash pursed his lips in surprise. “Whoever Justin is now . . . it has nothing to do with me.” Saying it out loud almost had my brain convinced. “I tried for years to help him. He never took it.”

  “Right,” Dash said, taking my face in his hands. “You did everything you could. You don’t have to feel guilty about not being there for him now.”

  I looked Dash in the eye, my tears brimming. He knew me so incredibly well. It was like he could feel my soul wringing itself out.

  “I love you,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck and hugging him so fast I nearly catapulted us backward. Instead, he steadied his balance and lifted from his crouched position, holding me to him the entire time until he was standing and my feet were hanging just above the floor.