63. Daltyn
DALTYN
I’ve faced screaming crowds, playoff pressure, and shootouts with twenty thousand people watching.
None of that compares to standing in my kitchen waiting for Peyton to come out of her room.
My palms are actually sweating.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I adjust the cuffs of my black button-down for the fifth time while checking the clock again.
Still too early.
The low sound of footsteps finally reaches me from the hallway. The clicking of her heels against the wooden floor grows louder.
Then Peyton appears.
And my entire fucking brain stops working.
Jesus Christ.
Soft curls fall over her bare shoulders as she stops in front of me.
The dark blue dress hugs her body perfectly.
Not over-the-top. Not flashy.
Just… perfectly her.
Beautiful in that effortless way that makes my chest physically ache.
I stare openly, completely incapable of hiding it.
Peyton bites her glossy lip, suddenly looking nervous. “You okay?”
Am I okay? Absolutely not.
“You look…” My voice roughens. “Fuck.”
Heat rushes into her cheeks. A tiny smile tugs at her mouth. “That good?”
“You’re trying to kill me.”
Her laugh fills the cabin softly, warm and real.
Mine.
The thought nearly knocks me off balance.
I step toward her slowly. My eyes drag over her one more time before settling on her face again.
“You’re beautiful, Pey.” The words come quieter this time.
Something emotional flickers across her expression. Like maybe she understands exactly how much I mean it.
I lift my hand carefully, brushing one curl gently behind her ear before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
Her eyes flutter closed briefly.
Fuck. I’m so gone for this woman, it’s pathetic.
“You clean up okay, too, goalie,” she murmurs.
I huff out a laugh. Then offer her my hand. “Ready?”
Peyton slips her fingers into mine. No hesitation. “Ready.”
And for some reason, that tiny detail nearly wrecks me more than anything else tonight.
The drive to the restaurant passes in soft conversation and quiet touches.
My hand stays on her thigh half the time, grounding me. Like I need constant confirmation she’s really here beside me.
The restaurant sits outside Burlington, tucked against the mountains overlooking golden lit water beneath the setting sun.
It’s private. Quiet. Safe.
Exactly what I wanted for her. For us.
Peyton looks around in surprise when the hostess leads us past the main dining room toward a secluded candlelit section near the back windows.
“You did all this?” she asks softly.
The awe in her voice makes my chest tighten.
I shrug slightly. “It’s our first date.”
Like that explains everything.
Maybe it does.
Peyton stares at me for a long second before smiling slowly.
Jesus Christ. That smile could level cities.
Dinner blurs after that. Not because I’m distracted, but because I’m too aware of her.
Her laughter.
Her hand in mine on top of the table.
The way the candlelight catches in her eyes.
The way she watches me when she thinks I’m not looking.
And for the first time in years? I feel calm.
At one point, Peyton laughs so hard at one of Connor’s group chat messages that she nearly chokes on her wine.
“He’s a mess. ”
She bites her lip, trying not to laugh harder. “I think you’d better look again. He renamed the group chat.”
Dread settles in my stomach. “Oh, shit. What did he call it?”
Peyton turns my phone toward me. I cringe when I read it.
GOALIE DOWN BAD.
I close my eyes briefly.
“It’s original,” Peyton admits.
I grunt, shaking my head.
Later, after dinner, I pull her outside toward a quiet balcony overlooking the water. Cold mountain air brushes the trees softly around us.
Peyton steps beside the railing, her dress moving lightly in the wind while city lights glow below.
Stunning.
Everything about her is fucking stunning.
I move behind her. My hands settle gently on her hips.
Peyton melts against me.
Emotion catches hard in my throat.
“You know what the worst part is?” I murmur quietly near her ear.
“What?”
“I used to like being alone.”
She turns, facing me.
My fingers tighten against her hips unconsciously.
“Now?” she asks softly.
I stare down at the woman who somehow crawled beneath every wall I ever built.
“Now I look for you in every room.” The words leave me before I can stop them.
Raw. Honest. Terrifying.
Peyton’s breath catches softly .
And suddenly I realize I’m done for.
Because the look on her face right now? That’s the look people spend entire fucking lifetimes searching for.
I brush my knuckles lightly along her cheek.
Her lips part slightly.
Then I lower my face to hers, kissing her slowly, like I want to memorize every second of it.
Peyton grips the front of my shirt, kissing me back with enough emotion to make my chest ache.
And somewhere between the city lights, her soft gasp against my mouth, and the way she clings to me like I matter, the truth slips out. Words I don’t mean to say fall from my lips.
“I love you.”
The words hang in the air softly between us.
I freeze.
Fuck.
Peyton pulls back a little further, staring up at me.
My pulse pounds violently.
I didn’t mean to say it yet.
Didn’t plan it.
It just…escaped.
But it’s true. Terrifyingly so.
“I—”
Peyton cuts me off by grabbing my face and kissing me hard enough to steal the rest of the words straight from my lungs.
When she finally pulls back again, her eyes are shining.
“Finally,” she whispers softly.
Relief crashes through me so hard it almost drops me to my knees.
Peyton smiles shakily. “Because I’m completely in love with you, too.”
I don’t remember the drive home.
But I remember the way she feels in my arms when I carry her up the stairs to the loft, then sit her on my bed.
I squat down in front of her, carefully removing the sandals she wore at the airport. The one she sprained her ankle while wearing.
I remove one, then the other.
Her eyes are soft in the light coming from downstairs.
“Are you sure about this?”
Her hands fist my shirt, pulling me closer. “Never been surer of anything in my life.”
Then she kisses me, showing me exactly how much she means it.
I sigh against her, breathing her in, swallowing her gentle moans as my hands caress the smooth skin exposed above her dress.
My fingers find the zipper, and I begin pulling it down, breaking the kiss to make sure she’s okay with it.
Her fingers reach out, undoing the buttons of my shirt, her eyes flitting between them and me.
I grab her hands, pulling her to her feet.
She slips my shirt over my shoulders.
I pull the straps over her arms, then slide the dress down her hips.
She unbuttons and unzips my pants, letting them fall at my feet.
In unison, she steps out of her dress while I step out of my pants.
I drink in the black lace bra and panties, groaning aloud. “You’re fucking stunning. ”
Her hands move to the waistband of my boxers. “So are you.”
Her eyes move from mine to my torso. Her palms glide over my abs, then to the tattoo on my rib.
She reads the words aloud. “Still here.”
My ribs ache phantom-like beneath her touch.
I grab her hand, my blood turning colder. “There’s a story there. But I... can’t explain it now.”
Understanding fills her eyes.
“I just want you.”
Her hands slide behind my neck, and she rises on her tiptoes, kissing me like I’m the air she needs to breathe. Like she knows it’s bad but trusts me enough to tell her about my tattoo when I’m ready.
The fire burning between us explodes into a mixture of longing and need. She yanks my boxers off, then I tear off her bra and panties.
I lift her, setting her onto the center of my bed, my weight pressing her into the mattress, even though I’m balancing most of it on my elbows, never breaking the kiss.
When I finally pull back, I’m breathing heavily. Not just from the kiss, but from everything I’m feeling.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I say, my voice low. “I’m ashamed to admit this, but... in the past, I just fucked to get off. I kept my shirt on so they didn’t see the tattoo... the scar.”
Her hand slides to it, gliding over it.
And I let her touch it.
Even though it’s ugly. Even though it’s from something she can’t possibly fathom.
And the words I had tattooed there have a real, deep meaning.
But it’s Peyton .
And she’s different from anyone I’ve ever met.
“I won’t do that with you,” I whisper. “I want to make love to you.”
Her lips curl into a soft smile. “I’ve never...” her cheeks pinken. “I’ve never made love, either.”
A soft smile curls my lips.
“So maybe... we learn together.”
I nod. “I like that idea.”
And then I’m kissing her again.
But this time, I don’t stop with her mouth.
My lips gently move down her neck, listening to her soft purr as my tongue glides along her rapidly beating pulse. Lower still to the cleavage between her breasts.
And then, my tongue flicks over her hard nipple.
She sighs, arching her back, and my mouth closes over it, sucking it until she’s squirming beneath me, her hands in my hair.
My hand glides to her other breast, teasing her nipple while my mouth continues making her crazy.
“Daltyn,” she whispers, her head rolling on my pillow. “You make me insane.”
I release her nipple, smiling up at her. “Good.”
And then I switch, teasing her other nipple with my mouth. Her soft moans fill my bedroom, replacing the nightmares that linger in the shadows with her light.
I glide my tongue down her stomach, my eyes locking with hers.
“I need to taste you again.” I shift, settling between her legs.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed of you on the bathroom counter.
How many times I’ve beat off...” I place a kiss directly above her pussy.
“... remembering it. It felt so real. Like the taste of you was still on my tongue. ”
She whimpers, her hands running through my hair. “Yes. Please.”
I place soft kisses on her inner thigh, gently blowing on her center, before I kiss the other thigh.
She growls, and I chuckle.