24. Peyton
PEYTON
The tension from the lingerie store follows us all the way back to the cabin.
It lingers beneath every glance. Every accidental brush of our skin. Every moment Daltyn looks at me too long before catching himself.
Which means dinner is a disaster.
“You need to sit down,” Daltyn says for what feels like the fiftieth time while I limp around the kitchen helping by chopping vegetables.
“I am sitting.”
“You’re leaning against the counter.”
“Close enough.”
“It’s not.”
I grin while tossing peppers into the pan. “You’re bossy.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“You like it.”
His eyes flick toward me. Heat flashes there before he looks away again.
Oh, damn.
He clears his throat roughly. “Go sit down before you make your ankle worse.”
“I’m helping.”
“I’m fully capable.”
“So am I.” I give him a cheeky grin. “I’m emotionally supporting the cooking process.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It absolutely is.”
He mutters something beneath his breath that sounds suspiciously like, “brat.”
Butterflies attack my stomach.
Dinner eventually ends up on the table despite our constant arguing.
And honestly? I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed something this simple so much.
Halfway through dinner, I subtly loosen the straps on my boot beneath the table. Relief floods through my sore, stiff ankle.
Unfortunately? Daltyn notices everything.
His eyes narrow. “I knew you overdid it.”
I blink innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Peyton.”
“I’m literally sitting.”
“And you just loosened the straps. I heard the Velcro.”
I grab a piece of bread and throw it at him.
His reflexes are annoyingly fast. He catches it one-handed, then cocks an eyebrow at me.
Uh-oh.
I don’t like the mischievous look on his face. At all.
Daltyn slowly sets the bread down. “That’s it.”
My eyes widen. “What?— ”
He’s already moving.
I squeal as he scoops me out of the chair effortlessly. “Daltyn!”
“You’ve chosen violence.”
“You started it!”
“I warned you. Repeatedly.”
I laugh helplessly while he carries me toward the sectional. “You’re ridiculous!”
“And you’re in trouble.”
“Oh my God.”
He lays me on the sectional, then straddles me. His fingers find my sides, and he starts tickling me.
“DALTYN!”
“Should’ve listened.”
I twist and laugh breathlessly while trying to shove his hands away.“It hurts to laugh!”
“Yet you’re laughing harder.”
“You’re evil!”
He grins. Actually grins.
The sight wrecks me.
And then suddenly, our eyes lock and hold.
The laughter fades as realization dawns on us.
He has my wrists pinned in one hand, his other near my side.
His breathing slows.
Mine does too.
And all at once, the air changes.
The room is quiet except for our ragged breaths.
The large room suddenly feels smaller. Warmer.
Daltyn’s eyes flick toward my mouth.
My pulse stumbles hard. My lips part slightly.
The playful energy melts into something else entirely. Something heavier. Dangerous .
His thumb brushes absentmindedly across the inside of my wrist. And the soft touch nearly destroys me.
“Pey,” he says quietly.
The way he says it? It’s like it means something. Like I mean something.
I stop breathing.
My tongue darts out, licking my dry lips.
And suddenly, I really want him to kiss me.
Daltyn’s eyes darken slightly, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Like he feels it too.
The hand around my wrists loosens. Not enough to let me go. Just enough that it no longer feels playful.
My pulse pounds harder.
Neither of us moves.
Neither of us breathes.
His gaze drags slowly from my mouth back to my eyes.
“Tell me to stop,” he says quietly.
The words hit me like a physical thing. His voice is strained, like this is costing him. Like he’s trying to hold onto control by his fingernails.
And suddenly? I don’t want him to stop.
Not even a little.
So instead of answering... I kiss him.
A soft sound leaves him, rumbling against my lips.
Then he deepens it, like the restraint finally snapped.
His mouth is warm and hungry. His hand slides into my hair while he kisses me deeper, then slower, like he’s savoring me and losing his mind at the same time.
My fingers fist in his shirt automatically.
Everything about him feels too good.
The way his body presses against mine. The rough scrape of his thumb against my jaw. The way he kisses like he’s been trying to resist for too long .
A shaky breath escapes me when his tongue brushes mine.
He pulls back slightly, his lips still against mine. “Fuck,” he murmurs softly.
Heat floods through my entire body.
His forehead drops against mine for one dangerous second like he’s trying to regroup. Like he’s debating if he should stop.
Then he kisses me again. Harder this time. Needier.
And suddenly the rest of the world disappears.
We cling together, limbs tangled, our lips moving together.
Until—
BZZZZZZZZT.
Daltyn freezes.
His phone is going off inside his pocket.
There’s another buzz.
Then another.
And it just keeps going.
We pull back, staring at each other, breathing hard.
Daltyn groans softly, dropping his forehead against mine. “We should just ignore it.”
BZZZZZZT.
BZZZZZZT.
“What if it’s an emergency?”
He sighs, reaching for his phone while I’m still half-tangled beneath him.
He sits back, his eyes wide. “Oh no.”
I stare at his face. “Is it your teammates?”
He nods, his jaw clenching.
“What did they do?”
Instead of answering, he grabs me and shifts so I’m sitting on his lap. He holds the phone so we can both see it .
I look at it... and wish I hadn’t.
A group chat called “Avalanche After Dark” is blowing up. There are fourteen messages... and counting.
Connor: HOLY SHIT
Connor: SOS!
Connor: IT’S PUBLIC! OUR GOALIE HAS A GIRLFRIEND
Jake: ????
Ford: Why is Daltyn trending?
Connor: CHECK HOCKEY HUB
Cole: NO FUCKING WAY
Connor: THIS MAN GOT PAPARAZZIED LEAVING A LINGERIE STORE
Jake: SCREAMING
Connor: HE LOOKS LIKE HER ANGRY BODYGUARD
Cole: WAIT, IS HE HOLDING HER SHOPPING BAGS???
Connor: YES
Ford: Oh this is bad.
Jake: HE’S DOWN BAD!
Connor: brOTHER IS IN LOVE!
Daltyn’s fingers fly over the screen.
Me: Delete this chat.
Connor: NO
Jake: Too late. Check out the post. The comments are already calling her “the goalie whisperer.”
Cole: Someone said, “She turned Batman feral.”
Connor: THAT ONE’S MY FAVORITE
Me: I hate every single one of you.
Ford: No you don’t.
I look over my shoulder at Daltyn. “What are they talking about? What’s Hockey Hub?”
Rather than answer, Daltyn’s fingers fly over his phone. Then he lowers his phone so I can see it.
My stomach drops.
Slowly, I tap on the photo on the screen, enlarging it.
Daltyn and I are exiting Lace & Lavender. His hand is on the small of my back while I laugh at him.
His expression is dark. Possessive.
I swallow hard. He looks like he has feelings for me.
My pulse starts hammering again from the realization that the man whose lap I’m currently sitting on looked at me like that before he kissed me.
I glance up at him .
Right now, he looks the opposite of the guy in that picture.
He looks furious.
Not at me.
At this invasion of privacy.