If You Need Me (Toronto Terror #3) Read Online Helena Hunting

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Toronto Terror Series by Helena Hunting
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Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
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At this point, though, fantasizing about Dallas is the least of my worries. I have the reunion to deal with. When I visit my moms, I don’t usually venture out much. It’s easier to avoid running into people I know and having fake, awkward conversations on the street. But this is an event, and I was the class president. I can’t hide from it, or the people who were shitty to me. More than that, I want to show them, and myself, that the crap I endured didn’t hold me back. I’m already freaking out about it—being with the same people who called me terrible names growing up, becoming that girl again. But I can’t back out, because if Dallas is right about one thing, it’s that I can’t let them get the best of me.

Shilpa sighs. “There’s definitely chemistry between you. Can you be honest with him about how you’re feeling?”

“Not a chance. He’s never even apologized for what he did. I’m not going to open myself up like that.”

“Has he ever tried?”

That gives me pause. He does try to bring it up sometimes. But… “I don’t want to hear it if it’s disingenuous,” I tell her.

She nods slowly. “Which is what you assume it would be because of your history with him. The version of Dallas I’ve known is different, but your fears are valid. It’s easy to forget that everyone has their own experiences with people. Obviously, he’s grown up over the past decade, but that doesn’t take away the hurt he caused. You know what you can handle and what you need out of this. I get that you want to face down those demons, and attending the reunion will give you the peace you need to move past it.”

I nod. Maybe that’s exactly why I want this. Maybe I need to let go of all the hurt so I can leave that girl in the past and not let her follow me through the rest of my life. “Thanks, Shilps. You’re always the voice of reason.” I’m so grateful that I can be scared without judgment with her, but she always challenges me with a new perspective.

My phone buzzes with a message.

We both look at it.

“I’ll check my message if you check yours,” Shilps says.

We both pick up our phones.

“Oh wow,” Shilps mutters as she reads.

“What?”

“Apparently, Dallas and Ash are on a shopping spree. One guess who he’s buying things for.” She nods to my phone. “Your turn.”

Dallas

Do you need anything from me?

Like an orgasm?

I can’t stop thinking about the way you taste.

Or how soft you are on my tongue.

And how much I love the way my name sounds when you moan it.

Haven’t I been a good boy?

When do I get a reward?

I cover my mouth with my hand. “He’s sexting me.”

“Because you turned him down last night?”

“Maybe.” I bite my lips together. “He wants to know when he gets a reward for being a good boy.”

Her eyebrows rise. “Sounds like you’re not the only one affected.”

“I’m so screwed this weekend.”

CHAPTER 25

HEMI

Sitting in a vehicle, immersed in the scent of all things Dallas is torture. He smells way too good. I can’t escape him, or his chiseled fucking jaw and his incredible forearms. There’s this muscle at his elbow that resembles a half golf ball, and I can’t stop staring at it.

My stomach knots as we pass the sign that reads Welcome to Huntsville, population 19,000. I grip the door handle and suck in a breath. And then another, but I still feel like I can’t get enough air.

“Honey, are you okay?” It sounds like Dallas is in a tunnel.

I try to tell him I’m fine, but all that comes out is a horrible squeaky sound.

He takes the next exit and pulls onto the shoulder, shifting the car into park.

My vision blurs, and everything narrows to a pinpoint. This is so embarrassing. I think I’m about to lose it. That never happens. Not like this. I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t afford an emotional breakdown. Especially not in front of Dallas.

“Hey, hey. Is it okay if I touch you?”

I want to say no, but instead I nod.

Why the hell did I nod?

He unfastens his seat belt and unlocks the door. The strains of The Tragically Hip’s “Bobcaygeon” fill the car. A few seconds later, the passenger door opens. Dallas leans into my personal space, releases my seat belt, and slides his hands behind my knees. It must be a sensitive part of my body, because that contact causes a jolt to buzz down my spine and settle in familiar places.

He adjusts my position so I’m sitting sideways, feet on the gravel. Dallas crouches in front of me so we’re eye to eye. One hand stays on my knee, and the other moves my hair away from my face and curves around the side of my neck. It’s intimate and gentle and so conflicting. I don’t want to need grounding right now, especially not from him.


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