13. Dakota
13
DAKOTA
It’s embarrassing the number of times my eyes have searched for him.
I caught Callaway stealing Navy away from Luke and haven’t seen them since. Blondie is long gone, setting sights on a college girl. It’s for the best. He was getting handsy in a desperate sort of way, making me feel slightly uncomfortable. Unfortunately for me, his fingers didn’t make it where I needed him to go.
Deciding to take a dance break now that I’m solo, I pivot towards the least crowded bar with my sights set on the top-shelf vodka I know will quench my thirst and numb the loneliness.
I barely make it an inch before strong hands land softly on my waist.
My first thought is that, unfortunately, Blondie has returned.
Looking down at the hands caressing my hips, I realize I couldn’t be more mistaken. Tattooed forearms with veins I’d like to run my tongue over are the culprit of my uneven breaths and goosebumps spreading like wildfire across my skin.
Shut it down, Dakota. He’s not an option tonight.
But his heavenly cedar smell is back with vengeance, and I realize it’s pointless to try to avoid him.
I’m only so strong.
“Angel.” One simple word and my body lights on fire. I need to think this through before I do something stupid.
“Callaway. Finally change out of your tight baseball pants to make it to Ladies’ Night?” I’m baiting him, and he knows it.
I can feel his soft laugh heating the left side of my neck. My body is a slave to this man. I give him access and sink farther back into his steady movements.
I need to find a way out of here. He can’t know his effect on me.
Except I don’t think I want to leave.
It takes him a second to speak up. “I decided to get out and let loose a little. It looks like we had the same idea. What are the chances of that?”
If I wasn’t seeking friction at the moment, I might have a snarky response. It’s too bad a verbal battle is the last thing I want right now. Need right now.
I respond with the first thing that comes to mind. “I needed this.” My breathing is coming out in heavy pants. “It feels good to have control.”
“It looks good on you.” Huh?
“What does?” I’m in such a haze of bliss I’m not sure which way is up.
His hands have a tight grip on my hips, causing my mind to draw a blank.
“Surrender.” I draw in a sharp breath.
I couldn’t have missed that if I tried. It feels freeing to have someone notice the shift. I’m surrendering it all—leaving the baggage at the door. There was something about leaving my old place with Trevor that woke me up. I still have a long way to go, but I’ll get there. I’m confident in that.
I love that Callaway sees that in me.
For some reason I find myself suddenly searching for Navy, hoping she doesn’t spot us together. There’s no sight of her slinky red dress as far as I can see, so I know we’re in the clear. God, I wonder what she would say about us being this close.
Grinding against her brother on the dance floor was not a part of the let Callaway give you a ride home plan.
“Did you come here alone?” I don’t know why I’m asking that. Something about him being here has me curious. He doesn’t seem like the type of guy to frequent the club alone.
“Some of the guys on the team are here too. My roommates.”
We’ve been fluidly dancing for a while now, and although my legs are burning from the movements, I’ve never felt more content.
“Ah. Teaming up to bring home some baseball bunnies?” His hearty chuckle echoes through my body, causing me to direct my attention to him as I turn, meeting his eyes.
He’s looking at me like I have something on my face. Son of a biscuit…I bet I’m a sweaty mess.
“It’s actually cleat chasers.” He’s still laughing, and I’m confused.
“What’s a cleat chaser?” The second the question leaves my mouth I finally put two and two together.
“Bunnies are for hockey. I play baseball, sweetheart. Cleat chasers are the equivalent to puck bunnies in hockey.” I’m an idiot. There’s no way to play this off like I knew that because I didn’t .
“Oh.” That’s all I’ve got.
“It’s okay. Cleat chasers aren’t my thing anyways. Now Gus, that’s a different story.” His laughter is so light and carefree—effortless while mine requires work to escape.
“I find it hard to believe that cleat chasers ‘aren’t your thing.’ I’ve seen the tabloids, Callaway. You’re surrounded by beautiful women.” The fact we are able to have a conversation while still wrapped in each other’s arms is impressive. Our faces are aligned with each other, making it easier to hear.
I have to admit I’m having fun word-sparring with him.
Under his breath he responds, “You can’t believe everything you see.”
“I can understand that. It must be pretty difficult to be in the public eye with constant attention on you.”
He hums quietly, silently expressing his agreement to my statement.
I feel his forehead lean into the back of my head as he inhales deeply. It’s almost like the smell of me stabilizes him. Somehow, I understand that. We don’t know each other; essentially, we’re strangers. Yet, he feels like the moon that settles my world on its axis. It’s intimidating, and I’m not sure what to do with these feelings.
My dancing doesn’t stop; my body relaxes like molten liquid and follows his lead. His rough hands and thick jeans give me the friction I’m seeking.
“Let me buy you a drink.” He whispers loudly in my ear, his lips ghosting over my sensitive skin.
He’s not asking. He’s telling.
“I’m actually having a pretty great time right here.” I’m dying of thirst, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Oh, come on. I know fuck face over there made no attempt to offer you a drink. Let me.” Blondie has been making his moves around the dance floor. I’m long forgotten on his radar.
Sweat is pouring from my hair to my neck, giving him all the signs that a break from dancing is needed, so I decide to give in to his request.
I’ll go along with this. For now. I hope Navy doesn’t witness my downfall that I know is coming.
“Vodka soda, double lime. You can’t forget the limes.”
He takes his time before answering me, a soft smirk playing across his stupidly handsome face, “Double limes. I can do that.”
Callaway guides me with my left hand gripped tightly in his, as we swerve through the sweaty bodies on the dance floor. The bar, adorned in black, is packed full of various kinds of people. I let go of his hand in search of an empty bar stool to rest my sore legs on. I find one nestled into the corner of the velvet wall. After taking my seat, I lift my eyes in search of the bartender. I find him currently taking Cal’s drink order. Mine included.
The relief from my legs feels incredible.
If only I could take care of the other ache.
Minutes later, Callaway is headed straight for me with our drinks in hand. Thankfully, the gentleman beside me walked away, leaving him the empty seat next to mine. He hands me my vodka soda with triple lime, I note, and moves to sit, taking a long pull of his Old-fashioned.
“Thank you.” I must sound as flustered as I feel.
“It’s no problem.”
Sitting in comfortable silence for a moment gives me a chance to nonchalantly give Callaway a perusal. He’s sporting a pair of dark washed jeans, an emerald green Henley, and brown Chelsea boots tucked under the hem. He looks meticulously put together for such an effortless look. His black hair is disheveled and tossed to the side. He must have just left the barber because the faded lines along his sides look clean and sharp, underscoring his features which resemble that of a Greek God.
I’m constantly noticing his simple style. He doesn’t need much, and it is evident he doesn’t care about possessions which mean so little. Navy characterized him well when she said his humility is apparent in every area of his life.
Does he have any flaws?
“I don’t usually do this kind of thing.” I mildly shout to him over the loud music. Our need for conversation forces us to lean in closer.
His lips twitch. “And what kind of thing is that?”
He’s going to judge me. Letting him know how lame and boring my life is will surely have him running for the hills.
“I don’t usually go out. Like ever. Thought I’d change things up tonight.”
Chuckling to himself, he lets his hand drop from the bar top and slowly slides it to the thigh I shamelessly tucked between his legs. From the outside looking in, we look like a real couple sharing an intimate moment.
“Thank you for making tonight the night you came to Delta. I’m really glad we ran into each other, Dakota.”
He underestimates his effect on me.
“I’m not sure if I would call startling me on the dance floor running into each other. Like your hands just so happen to fall onto my waist.”
I smirk at him and snicker. It feels odd.
It’s clear I’m doing an impeccable job at surprising him because his eyebrows shoot up, and that gravelly laugh returns from deep within. An unfamiliar warmth settles over me.
Conflicted with my own pride, I contemplate returning his pursuit. It would be easier if I knew exactly what he was looking for. I need to draw my boundaries so that he knows what I’m willing to give him.
He’s all but telling me he wants me. I can read the signs.
But Navy keeps coming to the forefront of my thoughts. Can I risk her being upset with me for a night with him? I mean, nothing more will come from this. Our connection is most likely pent-up sexual tension, right? He doesn’t seem to have any hesitation.
“It got you to have a drink with me, didn’t it?”
I would have crawled had you asked me.
I’ll keep that little nugget to myself, though.
I never knew I was a slave to blue eyes until Callaway. He makes me want to say screw it and deal with the repercussions in the morning.
Maybe I should try…see where it leads…
Feeling a wave of confidence, I decide to give him a little nudge.
“You know, a drink isn’t the only thing I could use.”
I expect him to be thrown off by my boldness, but he does the opposite. With his eyes closed and head thrown back, he groans, “Fuck. You’re making it really difficult to get to know you.”
That’s the last thing I want. My numbness is only masked—there’s no room for “getting to know each other.”.
For all I know, we’re alone in this bar because nothing exists outside of Callaway and me.
I need to make him see that .
“Who said anything about getting to know each other, Callaway?
Who am I and what has taken over my body?
My confidence has no limits tonight.
I’m a live wire about to utterly combust.
If I don’t leave here tonight with his tongue down my throat and those thick fingers shoved in my pussy I might die.
I’ve suddenly become frantic for him—consequences be damned.
I make quick work of my chance and slowly peel my body off the bar stool. My hips roll towards him in a fluid motion. Cal’s trying his best not to stare down my top, looking me directly into my eyes.
He's a gentleman; I’ll give him that. Too bad I’m not interested in the respectful side of Cal tonight. I want his disrespect, those hands all over my wanting body, and his cock giving my pussy the relief it’s aching for.
It’s settled. I’m making my move. No regrets. I’ll have plenty of time to feel guilty tomorrow…after I’ve had a night full of orgasms.
I need this. And I find myself trusting him enough to chance this for a night.
I lean into his space, my body taking up as much distance as possible without an inch of distance spared. His lust is palpable. My heart can feel his irregular rhythm, with the weakest part begging for us to be in sync.
I take my small hands, in comparison to his large thighs, thighs built on endless hours of work and dedication. I drift them teasingly up his legs until they reach the uncharted territory of his wide hips.
He’s massive. If I look down, I know I’ll find a thick bulge fighting against the seam of his jeans. But my eyes are focused on the dark haze settling over his vision .
The lack of clear visibility in the club allows my pride to have far too much fun. There’s something about privacy in the dark that makes me feel seductive and confident. Sinful lust clouds Callaway’s vision as he bites out, “Jesus, Dakota. You’re sexy as hell.”
He has no idea what those words do to me.
My chest meets his as I lean slightly to the right of his face, allowing my smooth skin to connect briefly with his light stubble. I’m heading straight to the place I hope will seal the deal for tonight. My lips latch onto his ear lobe, drawing it in between my teeth and licking the tip, letting him feel how turned on he’s making me.
I feel his chest in a heavy shutter filter in waves throughout his body. I love the effect I have on him.
I can barely stand; my control is unraveling. All I can focus on is how incredible his body feels against mine, and the prospect of taking this further brings me the strength I need to stand.
He must catch on to the vibes I’m giving because as soon as my mouth leaves his ear, his hands are on me, lifting my hips swiftly and settling me on his lap.
Bend me over now; he’s painfully hard.
This successful and perfect man is hard for me. This should be when I realize what we’re doing is wrong—but I can’t. I’m finally doing something for me, and that feels pretty damn great.
He surprises me by gently lifting his palms to cradle my face as he looks me in the eyes, determination in his stare.
“I’m trying my hardest to take it slow with you. Let you see how good it can feel to let me take control. I’m a patient man; I can wait. But these backroads of the sexiest fucking curves my hands have ever felt are making me question my strength and morals. ”
His dirty mouth.
Feistiness alive and well inside me, I attempt to draw him in further, “Wanna get out of here, then? I’ll let you test out that theory.”
I’m practically throwing myself at him, offering my body up for a night of uninterrupted pleasure. He should be throwing me over his shoulder and dragging me out of this club. Instead, he meets me with furrowed brows when I ask him. The lust slowly fades as determination comes forth.
“Go on a date with me.” Once again, he’s telling me, not asking. That level of entitlement should wave a red flag for me, but it’s the opposite for this Golden Retriever. My body has yet to catch up to my brain. It’s still transfixed on my desire which will now need to be relieved with the help of my vibrator. I respond without a thought, “I can’t date you, Callaway. That’s not an option for me. No strings is all I can give you.”
I got my answer about him tonight. He’s one of the good ones and won’t sleep with me without a commitment.
I expect to find him surprised by my response, but it’s clear from the look on his face that he’s not. My body loosens as I carefully slide off Cal’s lap and find my seat again. Feeling slightly embarrassed, I stare at the bar top as if it will save my hurt ego.
His endgame might as well be wrapped in neon because it’s hard to miss.
For Callaway, it’s all or nothing.