38. Peyton
PEYTON
My pulse races as I stare at the very jealous and pissed-off goalie standing behind Tony. He moved so fast, it was as though he teleported over here. His jaw is clenched so tightly, I’m surprised I don’t hear his molars cracking.
Every muscle is so tense that he looks even bigger than usual. Like a massive hurricane about to rain down destruction.
Tony looks absolutely terrified. His eyes are wide as he straightens and slowly turns to face Daltyn. He looks like he’s about to face a firing squad.
Connor stands behind Daltyn, his arms crossed, a smug smile on his lips. He meets my eyes and waves, then mouths, “He’s jealous,” and points at Daltyn.
Daltyn is oblivious to Connor’s antics. His attention is fully focused on Tony. Nostrils flare with every exhale, and his hands are clenched into fists.
“Why the hell aren’t you behind the counter, working?” Daltyn says through gritted teeth. “Instead, you’re out here, flirting with my girlfriend. ”
“I-I didn’t know she was...” he swallows hard. “Your girlfriend.”
Daltyn takes a step closer. “Is that supposed to make things better?”
“No.” He frantically shakes his head, then holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I was just helping. She spilled her coffee and I cleaned it up.”
Daltyn shifts slightly, crossing his arms. “Really? That’s not what I saw when I walked in.” He looks down at Tony’s empty hands. “I don’t see a towel or mop.”
“I-I did that. Right before you came in.”
“Yeah. Then he proceeded to make her a new coffee and flirt with her,” Connor adds.
“Connor,” Allie snaps. “You’re not helping.”
He shrugs. “I know.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Connor, stop.” My gaze moves to Daltyn. As if he feels my stare, his eyes lock with mine. “Please. Don’t do anything.”
I glance around the coffee shop, then back to him, hoping he takes the hint. The girls have their phones in hand, probably recording this.
His face relaxes slightly. I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking it’s over.
But Tony opens his mouth again. “I swear, I wasn’t doing anything.”
Daltyn’s head turns, glowering at him. “You’re standing too close to her. That counts as doing something in my book.”
Shit. Why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut, Tony?
I push my chair back and get to my feet. I move around the table, my hand wrapping around Daltyn’s bicep.
Oh, damn. What a nice, hard muscle.
Focus, Peyton .
“Please, Daltyn. Just... let it go.”
He looks at me over his shoulder. “Let it go?”
I nod. “Even if he was flirting, I don’t care. It had no effect on me.”
Daltyn’s jaw relaxes. “Really?”
“Really.” I keep my voice low, wishing Connor were making noise. Those girls are listening intently and not remotely disguising it.
Daltyn turns to face me, and a slight gasp comes from me. The heat radiating from his body makes me feel like I’m overheating. My mouth goes dry as he steps closer, his body nearly touching mine.
He lifts a hand, his fingers grazing my cheek. I shiver before I can stop it.
“He doesn’t make you react like I do, huh?” His lips pull up in a smirk. His blue eyes smolder, making my knees weak.
I shake my head, unable to find words. Not when he’s looking at me like that.
“Come on, Allie. I think it’s time we leave the lovebirds alone.”
I hear Connor speaking, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Daltyn’s.
Hell, the whole place could fall down on me, and I still couldn’t look away from him.
His knuckles graze my jaw before his hand lands on my shirt. Right above my breast. “You spilled coffee on your sweater.”
His words penetrate the haze. I look down, blinking rapidly.
“Oh shit. My new sweater.” My eyes flick to his, panic filling me. “I’m sorry. I?—”
“Don’t worry about it, Pey. I’ll buy you a dozen to replace it.”
An embarrassing squeak comes from my lips.
“I... um... need to clean my sweater.” I step around him, fleeing for the bathroom before I do something stupid. Like drop to my knees in front of Daltyn.
“Can I embarrass myself any more today?” I mutter as I slip inside the empty bathroom.
I head to the sink, staring at my reflection. My cheeks are bright, and my pupils are dilated.
I don’t recognize myself.
My gaze moves to the coffee staining my sweater. I still feel Daltyn’s hand, burning through the material, branding my skin.
Get it together.
I grab a wad of paper towels and stick them under the water, then add a dab of soap. I press it against my sweater, hoping I can get it out before the stain sets in.
The door opens, and I look up, my mouth dropping open in shock.
Shit. I forgot to lock the door.
But when I realize who it is, all rational thought flees.
“D-Daltyn? What are you doing in here?”
His eyes don’t leave mine as he locks the door. “Figured you could use some help.”
I stand there, dumbfounded. “Help?”
Desire swirls in his eyes as he moves closer. “You look really nice in the clothes I got you.”
“Thank you. I’ll try to repay?—”
His hand lifts, taking the paper towels from me. “No. I don’t want you to repay me.” His voice drops. “They’re a gift.”
“Gift?” I repeat .
“Yes.” He gently dabs at the coffee on my sweater. “This color looks really good on you.”
“Cream,” I say. “It’s light. Shows the coffee.”
“If it stains, I’ll buy you another.” He takes another step. He’s so close to me, I can’t function. It’s like my brain is short-circuiting in real time.
His eyes are still on mine as he continues dabbing at my sweater. “So the barista doesn’t affect you, huh?”
I shake my head, lost in the hunger shining from his blue eyes.
He cocks his head slightly, towering over me. “Do I affect you, Peyton?”
I swallow hard, noticing the different shades of blue in his irises.
What was the question again?
He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, grazing my cheek. Heat ripples through me again.
“Cat got your tongue, Pey?”
“I, um...” I blink, trying to focus. “Yes. You affect me.”
He smiles. “Good. Because you drive me fucking insane.” He tosses the wet paper towels in the trash without looking. “You’re all I can think about. I can’t even focus on hockey. And that’s never happened before.”
A small squeak comes from my lips. “Really?”
He nods. “Although what happened today could come in handy.”
I cock my head slightly, confused.
“Every time I think of that asshole leaning over you, in your space, smiling at you, I get pissed.” His eyes darken. “Like he had any right to be there.”
My hands cup his face as I shake my head. “That’s not true. He doesn’t belong there.” I lift onto my tiptoes. “You do. ”
And then, I’m pressing my lips against his, kissing him like I’ve been starving for him.
Which I have.
His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him. I feel every inch of his hard, muscular body.
One of his hands slides up my back, cradling the back of my head. I moan against his lips, pressing myself closer.
He tilts my head slightly, changing the angle of the kiss like he wants to discover every inch of my mouth.
He pulls back slightly, breathing heavily. “Peyton,” he rasps. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
I shake my head.
He moans and whispers, “Mine,” before his lips crash against mine again.
The kiss is fierce and unrestrained, stealing the breath from my lungs. The world blurs around the edges until everything else disappears. Only he and I remain, suspended in this passion that burns like an inferno between us.
He tastes like sin and salvation. Like something I didn’t realize I’d been searching for.
Although I know it’s dangerous, my hands fist in his shirt, holding him against me like I never want to let go.
He deepens the kiss, his erection dragging against my center at a torturously slow pace. I whimper, my nails digging into his shirt, arching into him.
“Daltyn,” I whisper, breaking the kiss. My eyes lock with his. “Don’t stop.”
His blue eyes are full of promise. “I won’t.”
And then his mouth is on mine, frantically kissing me again. He moves his lips over mine like he’s memorizing them. His hips move against mine, slow and torturous, unlike his mouth. I whimper, grinding against him, needing more.
And then he pulls away slightly, kissing the corner of my mouth before moving to my jawline, then lower, kissing the column of my throat.
My head falls back, giving him access. He keeps his hand on the back of my head, supporting my neck, as his tongue glides over my frantic pulse before sucking on the skin.
I gasp, my nails digging into the fabric of his sweatshirt, clinging to him.
His teeth graze my skin, and I whimper, goosebumps racing across my flesh. He chuckles, then whispers, “So damn soft.” He lightly kisses over the mark, soothing it, before he whispers, “You’re mine.”
I close my eyes, relishing those words. Even though I know this can’t last, they’re a soothing balm to my aching heart, fulfilling a need I didn’t know I had.
His hand slides lower, moving beneath the hem of my sweater. When he grazes my stomach, a moan slips free.
“You feel like satin,” he whispers, his hand gliding across my sensitive flesh. “So responsive to me. To my touch.” His lips graze my ear, and I shiver again.
Goosebumps erupt over my flesh, liking his words far more than I should. The heat and desire threaded inside them lands like a confession. Like he’s been dying for me for too long.
“I need to touch you. To taste you,” he rasps.
I nod. “Yes. Please.”
I’m not sure exactly what I’m begging for. My body is on fire, and he’s the only one who can extinguish the flames.
I just want him.
Everywhere.
His lips move to mine again. His hands slide between us, unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans .
“Are you sure?” he says against my lips.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Positive.”
And then, he’s tugging them down my hips like he can’t wait anymore. My panties go with them, gliding over my sensitive skin.
Cool air hits the top of my thighs, then my knees, and then my ankles. He lifts my leg slightly, yanking off a shoe, then pulling my jeans over my foot.