Chapter 32 #2
“I already did.” He shifted closer, the closeness making everything so much hazier.
My hand wasn’t a collar around his throat anymore.
My fingers trailed to his chest until I could feel his slow draw of breath.
“You want to bet?” He held his phone in the air.
“If I’m telling the truth, you block every man in your contacts. ”
“Every man?”
“You know who I mean. You don’t get to be the only jealous one.
” Denali’s hand traveled between us, slow and deliberate to see if I’d protest, but I was silent while he slipped my phone from my back pocket, his fingers brushing along my ass.
“I want you to block every ‘maybe’ on your phone. They don’t get to have your number anymore. ”
“I did, Denali.” I licked my lips. “I said I don’t want any new messages. The man I’m seeing wouldn’t like it.”
The tension thickened between us and we lingered in it, eyes never leaving each other. I brought his phone close, with no desire to open it. I didn’t need to.
There was a mutual, tingling possessiveness between us, and this was what I wanted now.
I was older, I had different desires, and that meant we were finally playing the same game together.
Denali was cautious, careful to adhere to my boundaries, and because of that, I didn’t mind broadening them, bringing us to new horizons. I trusted him to listen to me.
Denali nudged his phone in my hand and his voice dipped low. “The password’s Riah. R-I-A-H.”
Pleasure flickered through me. “My password’s all sevens.”
“Seven? My jersey number?”
“Your jersey number.”
“You’re my wallpaper,” he confessed. “It’s a picture of you on the bleachers.”
I traced my thumb along the crease of his shirt. “I’m writing about us for the script.”
“I know,” he said softly.
“You know?”
“You have this look on your face when you write letters to me. It’s the same look you have when you’re writing your script now.”
“It’s not a happy story,” I whispered.
“No, but you’re writing about romance, and I’m the only man you’ve ever loved.”
My bones turned to jelly, I was more of a gummy candy than a person. A dreamy, dazed smile curved my lips, and I cupped his face. Anger was the farthest thing from me, I was warm and bubbly, cozying up to him.
I wanted to kiss him.
I needed to kiss him.
His eyes dropped to my mouth, and I knew without a doubt, Denali Maddox was going to kiss me. I could feel it. I knew it—
Until he tugged me forward and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug.
My heart slammed against my chest as his huge arms engulfed me. He buried his face in my neck, holding me tight. The hug was so comforting, the most affirming thing—Denali wanted me. Something deeper pulsed underneath it, tying us together.
I closed my eyes, hugging him back.
“Break it up!” Elijah shouted. “The guys are filming you! This is embarrassing!”
I didn’t care. Drunk on Denali’s touch, I broke away and leaned in to kiss him, but he brought me up to a standing position instead. It was my turn to stumble after him. After that, I was heavy on my feet, mind whirling as we approached the table.
Did…Denali stop me from kissing him?
No. That didn’t make sense. Everything about his body language was all over me, his fingers were literally skimming my hip as he kicked Pickles out of his chair so I could sit next to him.
I must’ve misinterpreted because Denali not wanting to kiss me wasn’t possible.
The guys had plenty of comments about the “hug” but my attention was on my knee touching Denali’s. We’d been interrupted but I wasn’t done with him.
His hands were so big. They’d always been bigger than mine. Prominent veins snaked up his arms, his arm hair was dark, and his fingers were thick and long. What a man.
I wanted to touch him.
Denali stuttered as my fingertips stroked the back of his hand. “The—uh—yeah.”
“The, yeah?” Fridge repeated.
Denali made his excuses, weaving his fingers through mine under the table. He was still cautious, still testing my reaction, and that just made me want him more.
He released my hand to touch my hip, slow movements that unleashed a fire across my skin. I knew where this was going. Denali wanted to pull me closer, to rest my head against his chest. We’d done it years ago, and that was more than fine by me.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, breathless.
His eyes flickered to mine. “It’s okay?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Relief was clearly written across Denali’s face. He’d been waiting to touch me. Giving into that felt so good. Of course we could go farther.
He nudged me out of my chair and his hands went to my waist. The air whooshed out of me, and I sucked in a surprised breath, stunned when Denali pulled me to his lap.
Holy shit.
He definitely couldn’t casually pick me up when we were kids. My heart crashed against my rib cage as he wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder.
That same note of relief was heavy in his sigh as he nestled into me. His chest rose and fell with his calm, even breaths. How relaxed he was astounded me, my face burned with the blush.
Everyone at the table stared.
Elijah’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious—?”
“Elijah,” I threatened, sucking in a breath. “If you ruin this for me, I’ll fuck up your car.”
“But—”
“Shut up.”
I loved my brother, and I knew tonight had to be a bittersweet one for him, but—goddamn—I wanted to be manhandled in a bar by the man I had insane feelings for.
I allowed myself to relax against Denali. I had plans for him—messy make out plans in his near future. I stroked his hair, keeping my voice quiet. “You must be working overtime not to pop a boner.”
I expected the same teasing tone, but Denali’s voice was husky in my ear. “You have no fucking idea.”