25. Ariella
TWENTY-FIVE
ARIELLA
“NO ONE’S THAT LOUD FROM A MAN.”
Something had shifted between us since the paparazzi run-in nearly a week before.
Maybe it was because I’d been two seconds away from climbing in his lap and dry-humping him in a parking lot. I was so painfully turned on by that moment, only to have paparazzi completely ruin me potentially getting laid in the back of a Bronco.
Instead what I’d gotten was a quiet drive back home and a lingering kiss on the forehead before I’d gotten out of the SUV.
Oh, and a deep regret of not getting my own place so I could have some alone time.
“I’m walking you up to your apartment this time,” he said, drawing me out of my flashback, my cheeks heating at the fact that I’d nearly been caught thinking about humping one of my hockey players.
We’d had the same argument every day since that night, when he’d started driving me to and from work. He wanted to walk me to my apartment, and I told him I was a strong, independent woman who didn’t need assistance.
At this point, I think he only brought it up to irritate me.
“Dalton, I’m a big girl,” I replied, unbuckling my seatbelt. “I’ve managed to walk myself to my apartment every day without you so far. What am I supposed to do this weekend when you’re not here? Huh?”
He ignored me, cutting the engine and hopping out of the SUV to open my door. “Ari,” He trailed a finger from my temple to my chin, tilting it until our eyes met. “Would you please allow me to walk you to your apartment?” His voice was soft, but there was a command hidden beneath the sweetness, his green eyes locking me in place until I forgot what we’d been arguing about.
The corners of his mouth pulled up into a sly smile. “Did I break you?”
I cleared my throat, rolling my eyes to cover the fact that, yes, he had broken me—just a little.
“Fine. You can walk me up. But not because I need you to.” I gave his chest a playful jab.
His cheeky grin spread into a full-blown smile. “Obviously.”
As we started walking toward my building, I tossed over my shoulder. “I’m only letting you for my neighbor’s sake. And warning, she might kidnap you. She’s extra nice to all the delivery men. I think she’s on the hunt for a young white boy.”
A bark of laughter filled the early evening air.
“I’ll stop by her place on my way out then. I bet she makes some bomb food.” His hand landed on my lower back, guiding me toward the entrance. “There’s not a doorman, or a lock, or anything ? Anyone can just walk in here?” he asked, pulling open the glass and metal door and eyeing it as if it had personally offended him. I’d always made him drop me off from the guest parking spots, so this was the first time he’d noticed the apparently subpar security.
Warm breath skimmed my ear when I only rolled my eyes in answer, and his voice dropped to a low murmur. “Ari, you’re mine until this deal is over, remember? And I don’t like the thought of just anyone being able to walk in here.” He reached down, taking my hand firmly in his. “I know you’re independent and strong, and you could probably kick anyone’s ass if they tried something. But for my peace of mind, would you please text me when you get back after practice or anything else?”
Surprisingly, his request didn’t irritate me. He didn’t make it sound like a command. There was room for me to say no, which made me want to say yes. Before I could answer, we were interrupted by some very vocal sounds emanating from my door.
I groaned. “Ugh. You have to be kidding me.”
“Wow, they’re really going at it.” He scrubbed at the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning pink when a particularly loud moan filtered through the apartment door.
There was no stopping my giggle. “She’s faking it.”
“How do you know?” he asked, horror on his face.
“No one is that loud from a man.” I chuckled, but my mouth snapped shut when Dalton’s gaze turned heated—any indication of embarrassment was long gone .
My back hit the wall as he stalked me down, caging me with his arms. I should have known better than to say that.
“I bet you’d be loud for me,” he murmured, low and rough.
My whole body hummed with awareness, and I was distinctly aware of how close we were. His hand rested on my waist, anchoring me in place.
“Being cocky isn’t cute,” I whispered, trying to keep from closing the distance between our mouths.
I’d never understood what people meant when they said someone’s eyes could darken—until now. The moss-green shifted to a deep forest shade, his nostrils flaring slightly as he held my gaze. My fingers flexed by my side, itching to grab the front of his white T-shirt to pull him closer and see if he’d make good on that promise in his eyes.
But before I could even process the thought, Gracie’s voice cock blocked.
“Ow. Not there , Dios mío . I thought you were a doctor. You’d think you’d have a clue about female anatomy,” she yelled.
Dalton looked at the door, like if he squinted hard enough he could see into the apartment. “Yeah, I’m going to say you’re right, and she’s faking it.”
We both burst into laughter, the charged moment dissolving into comfortable silence.
“Well,” I said, placing my hand on his chest, creating space between us, “you’d better get home, athletes like you need your sleep and all that.”
“I will, as soon as you get into your apartment and lock the door. Are you comfortable with that guy, or should I tell him to get lost?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m going to chill out here until they’re done in there.” I hiked my thumb over my shoulder. “Don’t feel like watching a bad porno, you know?” Hopefully my phone had enough battery to last however much longer they’d be at it. I’d send her a text to wrap it up.
Dalton, however, didn’t move to leave. “What do you mean you’re staying out here? Don’t you have your own room in there?”
“Studio, remember?”
I was back to being caged, but the heat in his eyes was different this time—protective. “Ariella, what’s that supposed to mean? Where do you sleep?”
Shit. I knew he wasn’t going to like my answer.
“On my cousin’s couch,” I said sheepishly.
One second I was standing by the door, and the next I found myself draped over Dalton’s shoulder, eye-level with his toned, Wrangler-covered ass.
“Dalton. Put me down. Where the fuck are you taking me?” I pushed myself up, bracing myself on his lower back, looking around to see if anyone was coming to my rescue, but there wasn’t a soul in the hallway.
“Home. I’m taking you home.”
“This is my home.” I wriggled around, trying to get free, but his grip was iron-clad.
“Not for tonight, it’s not.” My protest was silenced with a slap to my ass. “Stop moving, or you’re getting more of those.”
Thank god he couldn’t see me bite my lip at the sensation of his rough hand rubbing away the pain .
He chuckled. “Or maybe that’s exactly what you want.”
Ignoring the fact that he was completely correct, I huffed. “You know this is a total overreaction, right?”
“Nope,” he said easily, striding toward the elevator. “This is exactly the reaction you deserve for not telling me you’ve been living on a couch.”
“Dalt, I’m telling you, I don’t need to stay here tonight. I’m just going to give her a little longer to get her freak on and go back.” My argument died on my tongue when I stepped out into his darkened apartment.
Dallas City Center glittered beneath us through a wall of windows, each light a tiny spark against the night. The view was mesmerizing, like floating above the city. My feet carried me across the sleek plank floors, straight into his open, expansive living room, even though I’d sworn in the car I wouldn’t step foot inside his place.
“Wow,” I said, my voice no louder than a whisper.
“Wow is right.”
I looked up, surprised at his proximity. But his attention wasn’t on what lay beyond the glass. It was strictly on me. My stomach somersaulted at the intensity in his eyes as they locked onto where I ran my tongue along my bottom lip, pulling it between my teeth.
I tore my eyes away, taking in the apartment. Needing a reprieve before I did something stupid, like tackle him and make out with his stupidly gorgeous face, or see if stubble was a good inner thigh exfoliator.
It was beautiful—a designer’s dream, with charcoal walls, metal accents, and an impressive display of sleek surfaces. But it looked too curated, like someone had staged the whole place without a single personal touch.
No photos, no plants, not even a cozy throw blanket.
I ran my hand over the back of the cognac leather sectional, making my way toward the kitchen.
“Did you just move in?” I asked, raising a brow. “Or did we break into a show apartment?” I turned to face him, walking backward and gasping dramatically. “Oh my god, you don’t even live here, do you? Was this all to impress me? Because, if so, I’m already fake dating you. No need to catch a breaking and entering charge for me.”
“The sarcasm isn’t cute.”
“Well, you must think I’m hideous because sarcasm is my main form of communication. With a dash of dark humor as a coping mechanism.” I caught him shaking his head as I turned to press one of the flat wall plates, hoping it would turn on the lights and not do something weird like drop a disco ball from the ceiling, or whatever rich people had in their homes.
“Do you have a disco ball?” I asked, now curious.
He let out a surprised laugh. “Do I have what?”
“A disco ball? You know, those mirrored balls that hang from?—”
“I know what they are, but why would I have one?”
I shrugged. “Because it would be cool. I mean, your living room is large enough to have a dance party.”
The lights flickered on, illuminating the most stunning kitchen I’d ever seen. Holy shit, it was impressive, with glossy white cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and a sink large enough for me to bathe in.
Dalton’s eyes tracked me rounding the marble island from where he was leaning against the wall, hands stuffed into his front pockets, looking far too good for my health. His attention was like a physical caress on my skin. A shiver ran up my spine from the attention.
God, where was the parental supervision when you needed it?
“Holy shit. You have a drink fridge?” I asked, dropping into a crouch in front of the small refrigerator.
Small empty refrigerator.
Not having anything personal in his apartment was one thing, but not stocking a drink fridge? That was a crime.
“Why is it empty?”
Dalton moved to lean against the counter, looking slightly out of place in the swanky apartment, standing there barefoot in his white T-shirt and well-worn Wranglers, an easy smile on his gorgeous face.
“Maybe because I have a perfectly good fridge right behind you, and I don’t have to drop into a squat for that one,” he teased.
I rolled my eyes. He was missing the whole point. Luckily, I was there to enlighten him.
“A well-stocked drink fridge is the height of luxury.” I pointed at it. “It’s the symbol of wealth. That and those ice machines that make the little pellets of ice.”
His shoulders shook with laughter as he unfolded his arms and moved closer. “ Those are the symbols of wealth?” he asked, offering me a hand.
I yelped when, instead of helping me stand, he lifted me and set me on the island. The chilled surface helped cool my heated flesh as he stepped between my thighs. There was no missing how perfectly aligned we were in that position.
“Well, Ari, I have both of those,” he whispered, pulling back far enough to wink at me.
Everything about Dalton being that close was overwhelming. The clean scent, his sure touch, the heat radiating from his body—the way his voice washed over me, so deep and soothing.
I swallowed, desperate to fix my suddenly dry mouth.
His smile was so delicious I shivered. “Now, tell me, Sunshine.” There was that name again. “What would you stock the fridge with?”
This was a good topic, yeah—something to think about besides the fact that if I were naked and scooched forward half an inch, this island would be ideal for fucking on.
“Ari?” he prodded, his rough hands landing on my bare thighs. Asshole was purposefully trying to fluster me if his smirk was anything to go by.
Two could play that game.
Against my better judgment, I hooked my legs around him, yanking him closer. It was intimate. Way too intimate. His jaw ticked, and I noted how he pulled his hips away just enough so we weren’t touching—but there was no hiding the bulge tenting the front of his pants.
Oh, how I folded so quickly .
I was one move away from dry-humping my team’s captain.
Oh god, it sounded so much worse when I thought of him that way. Also, so much hotter.
I cleared my throat, focusing on how to form words and unstick the syllables lodged in my esophagus.
“Well, I’d have Topo Chico. In the glass bottles, too.” A laugh slipped out when Dalton wrinkled his nose.
“Spicy water. Got it. What else?”
“Sugar-free Red Bull,” I said, my voice barely a whisper as his fingers crept higher, the edge of his thumb grazing just under the hem of my shorts, sending shock waves to my core. It was majorly distracting, and my lids fluttered closed, trying to regain some control.
“What size?”
“Um. I like the eight-ounce ones.” Why did I sound so breathy?
“Anything else?” His voice was soft but a bit husky. The chill from the marble almost burned against my palms as I braced myself there, willing my hands not to touch him.
My lids opened again, only to find his green eyes glued to my chest. I was acutely aware that my nipples were now pebbled beneath my white tank top.
“Why are you asking?” My question sounded straight pornographic since it was more of a moan.
He dragged his eyes back to mine, a lazy smile on his lips as he dipped a finger under the frayed fabric. Somehow, I was both relaxed and completely worked up at the same time.
“I want to know everything about you.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “The big, the small. I want to know all of it.”
I froze, caught off guard by the sincerity of his words. It had been a long time since anyone had cared to know me. To ask me about my life and what I wanted. With that one sentence, he’d sent another battering ram to my carefully constructed fortress, and I scrambled to take cover.
Scrambled to get away.
“What would you stock the fridge with?” I asked, needing a distraction to give myself a second to process how he was looking at me—like I was the most important thing in the room.
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We’re talking about you,” he said, grunting when I hit his shoulder.
That was something else I’d noticed about him.
Yes, he was caring and considerate, but at times, I got the impression that it was at his expense. That he would downplay his own wants and needs for the benefit of someone else. And sure, there were times when that might be considered romantic or kind, but only if the people you extended that courtesy to reciprocate it.
Did Dalton have anyone putting his desires first?
Did he get a say in how things went in his life?
The thought left a hollow feeling in my chest and, maybe, a tinge of guilt. Dalton had been sweet, caring, and thoughtful since the start. Hell, I don’t know that he’d ever acted like whatever this was between us was fake.
Maybe I didn’t have to have all the answers as to what this meant for my future just yet. Maybe instead of worrying about the lines and boundaries, I could take a note out of Gracie’s book and live in the moment .
“If you get to know about me, then I get to know about you,” I said, my voice softer. “Your girlfriend should know the things you like.”
He looked away, his jaw tightening for a second, but he couldn’t hide the slight flash of surprise—or maybe relief. My heart clenched, wondering how long he’d been holding back his own wants.
“What’s your favorite color?” I asked, hoping to keep the mood from turning sour.
His eyes snapped back to me, his tone confident—assured. “Yellow.”
“Really?” I raised a brow in surprise. “Most guys say blue or green. Or black.” I played with the collar of his shirt. “Yellow isn’t common.”
“It’s a recent thing.”
I laughed. “A new favorite color? At what? Twenty-five? Who picks a new color as an adult?”
His expression softened, and he leaned a little closer, the warmth of his breath tickling my skin. “Yellow reminds me of sunshine. That’s why it’s my favorite color now.”
Sunshine.
Time seemed to halt. He’d said the nickname casually before, yet I’d never considered that it might have some meaning.
“Why Sunshine?” I asked, barely able to remember how to breathe.
He hesitated long enough that I thought he wouldn’t answer. “Because the first time I heard you laugh, it reminded me of the warmth on my skin when the sun hits my face,” he said softly, his voice a little rough around the edges, like he wasn’t used to saying things like this.
Something inside me melted.
It felt terrifyingly real, more than anything I’d expected from this arrangement. On the one hand, I wanted more moments like this, more glimpses of the man behind that practiced public facade, but on the other, it went against everything I’d had planned.
His touch broke me from the inner turmoil. Without a word, he scooped me up like I weighed nothing, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck as he carried me down a hall.
“Dalton, I can walk,” I protested, but it didn’t carry much bite.
“I know.”
I didn’t argue. Instead, I let myself settle into his arms, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat. He pushed open a door with his shoulder, revealing a guest bedroom as meticulously decorated as the rest of the place.
“Stay here,” he said, setting me down on the navy duvet before disappearing.
I am playing with fire.
Silky fabric enveloped me as I flopped back, covering my face with my hands, hoping that all my questions and concerns would be answered when I pulled them away, but it didn’t happen. The little voice in my head telling me to say “fuck it” and throw myself at him was getting louder and louder, though.
“Figured you’d want something comfortable,” he said from the doorway, watching me with quiet intensity. I reached for the worn gray shirt he held out .
“Thank you.”
I clutched the soft fabric in my hands, watching him take a small step forward. For a moment, I thought he might lean down and kiss me. My breath hitched, and I felt my pulse race as his fingers brushed my chin, tilting it up ever so slightly.
“Goodnight, Sunshine.”
His lips pressed gently against my forehead again, thumb grazing my cheek one last time before he stepped back and left.
Like he hadn’t just sent me further into a spiral.
What the hell?
Was this what it was like to have blue balls? I didn’t even have a vibrator here to help relieve the tension he’d built up. A part of me wanted to yell after him. To demand he get his firm ass back here and give me something dirtier than a sweet forehead kiss. He had to know that every nerve in my body was buzzing with anticipation for something more.
But the other half was thankful he’d stepped away.
Why did he have to be such a good guy? Why did he have to make me like him and not just lust after him? Because just wanting to have sex, I could get behind. I could emotionally detach from a hookup arrangement. Get him to give me amazing orgasms and then bounce.
But liking him as a person? Fuck, that was different territory.
I tugged off my clothes, pulled on his soft, oversized shirt, and slipped beneath the covers, wrapped in his scent. My mind kept whirling, caught between wanting more, and fearing what that more might mean, as I drifted off to sleep.