Page 21

CHAPTER 21

EMILY

“ Y ou can just drop me off,” I say, pointing to the no standing zone.

Dallas says nothing as we pass right by it, just smiles as he pulls his car into a parking spot a little farther up the street. I stare at him, watching as he shuts off the engine, unfastens his seatbelt, and hops out. Suddenly, my door opens and he’s right there, holding a hand out, a gentle smile ghosting his lips.

“I thought you had to get to PT?” I arch a brow.

“I’ve got some time.” He wiggles the fingers on his proffered hand and I grab it, allowing him to help me up.

“Besides…” He shrugs a shoulder. “I wanna see where you live.”

“I live in my sister’s guest bedroom. It’s hardly the Plaza,” I deadpan.

“Come on, Goldie.” He playfully swats my ass. “It’s freezing out here.”

Leading him inside the building, I wave at Dale, the weekend doorman. Feeling Dallas following so close, I’m overwhelmed by his presence .

The only reason I’m even entertaining the idea of him coming up is because Tess and Bron have a habit of losing track of time on Sundays when they stop in for bottomless brunch after their morning SoulCycle class. By my calculations, I have at least a couple of hours before they come stumbling home, reeking of mimosas and still dressed in their adorably matching activewear. And, since Dallas has some time to spare before he’s due at PT, why not let him up? Besides, I kind of want to kiss him again.

“What are you smirkin’ at, Goldie?” Dallas chuckles, closing the distance between us the moment the elevator doors glide closed.

He wraps his arms around me and I look up at him, taken aback by just how handsome he is. Yes, he’s hot. And undeniably sexy. But he’s also handsome. Devastatingly so. Even dressed down in sneakers and a black New York Thunder sweatsuit under his coat, his floppy hair contained by a backward ballcap sporting the logo of his alma mater, Denver U, it’s hard to take my eyes off him. His jaw is shadowed with stubble, and his eyes are so bright, they shine beneath the dim elevator lighting like peridot which, coincidentally, happens to be my birth stone.

Thankfully, before I throw myself at him right here in the elevator, we’re interrupted by the chime indicating our arrival on the sixth floor.

Dallas holds my hand as I step off the elevator, and I lead the way to Tess and Bron’s apartment. I smile at him over my shoulder as I slide my key in the lock, but as I walk inside, I freeze at the sound of a panting moan coming down the hallway, and my shoulders fall under the weight of realization that not only are Tess and Bron home, but they seem to be having some sort of loud, kinky living room sex.

And this is precisely why I can’t risk losing my job at HMC; I desperately need my own apartment.

“It’s too big!” my sister whines.

“It’s fine, babe,” Bron cries out. “We’ll make it fit! ”

“Just wiggle it a little!” Tess groans.

“Ugh!” Bron grunts.

Oh. My. God.

I look back at Dallas to find his brow furrowed in obvious confusion, a slow smirk curling his lips as he shrugs off his coat.

“You should go!” I hiss, pushing him in his chest and urging him back out the doorway.

“Are you kidding me?” He guffaws, craning his neck to see down the corridor. “Sounds like a fun time.”

“No, really, you?—”

“Emmy?”

I stiffen then, a shiver running down my spine, my eyes wide as I gawk up at Dallas.

No. It can’t be.

“Emmy, is that you?”

It’s not living room sex, at all. It’s worse.

Spinning around just in time, I spot my mother sashaying around the corner, a curious smile lighting up her face when her gaze flits from me to the hulking NHL goalie looming behind me.

“Oh, my…” Mom clutches a hand to her chest, a scrupulous gaze scanning Dallas from head to toe and back again. “And who do we have here?” she asks me with an approving smile.

“Who do we have where?” Tess’s voice bounces off the walls before she comes bounding around the corner like an excitable puppy. Her socked feet skid to a stop, eyes wide and shimmering with smugness as she glances from me to Dallas and back again. She looks me up and down, noticing the dress I’m wearing. The same one I was wearing when I left for the event last night.

And, honestly, I’m as good as null and void, standing here frozen, unable to gather my wits to even string a sentence together, wishing the floor would open up and suck me down into the nine circles of hell. I want to die. In fact, no. Death wouldn’t be enough. I want to have never existed. Dear God, please go back thirty-five years ago and make my mom swallow instead…

I finally come to, right as Dallas removes his hat and steps around me, his hand held out.

“Dallas Shaw.” He shakes Mom’s hand first before turning to Tess, who has somehow transformed into an actual fangirl, all hyperventilating and heart eyes.

“Oh, Dallas, come on in, sweetheart. Let me introduce you to my husband, Emmy’s father,” Mom insists, wrapping a hand around Dallas’s arm and tugging him down the hallway before I can object.

I glare at Tess who is looking at me with a shit-eating grin. “What are you even doing here?”

“I mean, I do live here…” She snorts, helping me as I struggle to remove my coat.

“You’re never here on Sundays,” I hiss, smoothing down my wrinkled dress, feeling both over and underdressed.

“Bron’s parents are in town to see us before they go on their Christmas cruise, so Mom and Dad came in and we’re going to meet them for lunch,” Tess says with a casual shrug. “I told you this. I even invited you.”

I momentarily rack my brain. No. She absolutely did not tell me this. Or maybe she did and it was one of those times where I was only pretending to listen because sometimes I swear my sister just likes the sound of her own voice.

“You the married athlete?”

I gasp at the sound of my dad’s abrupt question coming from the living room, practically sprinting down the hallway with Tess hot on my heels.

Through the open French doors, the living room is at capacity with my parents, Dallas, Bron and, right there in the middle of the already minimal space, a Christmas tree that is so damn big, I can’t help but wonder how they even managed to get it up here.

“Uh, no,” Dallas chuckles, side-eyeing me. “Not married, sir. ”

“But you’re an athlete ?” Dad questions, looking over his thick-framed specs at Dallas in that way that he does to try and look intimidating.

“Yes, sir.” Dallas nods, tucking his hands in the pockets of his sweats. “Goalie for the New York Thunder.”

“ Sexiest goalie,” Tess murmurs, her tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek as she nudges me with her elbow like the quintessential annoying little sister she is.

I spear her with a shut-the-hell-up look.

Fully aware that I’m wearing a literal evening gown, my hair a nested mess, it’s abundantly clear what I’ve been doing all night, so I know I need to step in.

“Dad, this is Dallas Shaw,” I introduce. “Dallas, this is my father, Frank, and my mother, June.”

Mom practically swoons, fluffing her white-blonde hair with a flirty grin while Dad folds his arms across his chest, trying for the protective father figure-slash-retired New York City firefighter when, in actual fact, he’s the personification of a cuddly teddy bear.

I point to Bron standing awkwardly, holding the tree up while trying not to look as if it’s taking all she has not to burst into laughter. “That’s Bron, my sister-in-law.”

“Hey.” Bron waves, biting back a smirk.

“So, hockey, huh?” Dad pipes up again.

“Yes, sir.” Dallas nods.

“Not quite baseball, now, is it?” Dad looks him up and down.

“Uh, no, sir…?” Dallas scratches the back of his neck, clearly confused.

“So, what are your intentions here?” My father indicates me with a jut of his chin.

I’ve often wondered if all parents are this mortifying, or if I just happened to win some sort of “most embarrassing parent” lottery when they were assigning families at birth. I’d love to say the embarrassment is a result of their age and a side effect of the boredom caused by retirement, but honestly, my parents have been like this for as long as I can remember.

“Oh, wow!” I exclaim in a pathetic attempt at deflecting. “A Christmas tree!”

“Nice save,” Tess whispers from the corner of her mouth, stepping around me. “Yeah, it just arrived,” she announces, finally helping me to try shift the topic of conversation. “Actually, maybe Dallas can help us move it since Dad isn’t quite as strong as he used to be.”

Dad scoffs.

“Yes, with those big muscles, I’m sure Dallas can help,” Mom muses out loud.

I turn my head slowly to look at her, wondering if she meant to just say that out loud. Judging by the unperturbed look on her face, she either doesn’t realize she did, or she simply doesn’t care. Both of which are wildly inappropriate but also totally June Cole.

“No problem,” Dallas says, dusting his hands together. “Where do you want it?”

“Just in that corner, away from the fireplace,” Tess instructs.

With the utmost ease, Dallas bends at the knees and reaches in through the tied branches, grabbing the tree and carrying it as if it’s not a fully grown Pine. He places it into the corner and twists it back and forth to get the perfect angle.

Bron swoops in to move the floor lamp a touch, making more room for the monstrosity.

Mom continues outwardly swooning.

Dad watches on with an unreadable expression on his face.

Tess smirks, her gaze flitting to me like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

I look at the clock on the mantle, wondering exactly how much longer until everyone leaves to meet Bron’s parents for lunch.

Thankfully, it’s Bron who saves the day, pulling her phone from the pocket of her jeans. “Babe, we should head out to meet my folks,” she says, glancing at me with a you’re welcome look in her eyes.

Dallas stands off to the side and out of the way as everyone moves, gathering belongings and talking over each other all at once.

“It was so nice to meet you.” Mom stops by Dallas, reaching up and pulling him down to press an unnecessary kiss to his cheek. “Emmy will need to bring you out to the island for a visit.”

To the island , said as if she lives in some luxury paradise. I almost laugh. For the record, she’s referring to Staten Island.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dallas says with a nod, his eyes flitting to mine before he offers my mother his trademark panty-melting smile.

“Yeah,” Dad booms, standing in front of Dallas. “Come on out and we can have a real chat, man-to-man.”

I grimace.

“Yes, sir.” Dallas nods, shaking my father’s extended hand. “I’ll bring the beer.”

I don’t miss the hint of a grin that ghosts Dad’s lips as he turns away.

When I glance at Tess, I just know she’s about to say something embarrassing, so I turn her around and usher her down the hall, toward the door. The moment we reach the entry, she spins around, eyes hysterically wide.

“You better be prepared to tell me absolutely everything when I get back here,” she hisses as Bron helps her with her coat. “No detail too filthy. I want to know ev-er-y-thing .”

I practically shove her out the door, forcing a smile as I say goodbye to my parents.

Leaning against the doorframe, I wait for them to pile into the elevator, and it isn’t until the elevator doors slide closed that I finally release the breath I’ve been holding, feeling my shoulders sag.

I push my hair back from my flustered face, turning and walking back inside, finding Dallas still standing in the living room, looking almost as flustered as I feel, save for the dimpled grin playing on his lips.

“Yeah, so, you just met my entire family,” I say on a nervous laugh.

Dallas chuckles, stepping up to me and enveloping me in his arms.

“What’s with your dad?” He quirks a brow.

I wave a hand. “Oh, don’t worry about him. He was secretly hoping I was having an affair with Aaron Judge.”

“O-kay…” Dallas draws the word out, clearly confused.

“Huge Yankees fan,” I explain.

He laughs and then flashes me a wicked smirk. “Pretty sure your mom has a crush on me.”

“My mom has a crush on their UPS driver,” I snort. “I really wouldn’t get too cocky about it.”

He chuckles again, dropping his head and pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin just below my ear that makes my whole-body shudder.

“You feel tense,” he whispers, his lips finding my hot spot.

“My family under one roof has that effect on me,” I say with a stifled moan when he lays his tongue flat, licking my skin.

“When I leave, I want you to have a long, hot shower,” he murmurs against my trigger point. “I want you to soap up every inch of this sexy, beautiful body.” He kisses my skin. “I want you to maybe even play with yourself a little.” Kiss .

“Dallas,” I chide, but it’s more of a moan.

“What’s up, baby?” I can feel his lips smiling against me. “Nothing wrong with a little self-care…” Kiss .

My eyes roll back in my head when he licks me, sucking gently.

“Do you have any toys?”

I bite down on my bottom lip in an attempt to stifle my smile. “I’m a single, thirty-five-year-old woman. What do you think?”

He groans. “I want you to use one on yourself in the shower. ”

My core throbs at his instructions.

“I want you to make yourself come,” he says lowly, licking my neck. “And when you do, I want you to think about me.”

I’m forced to press my thighs together to quell the sudden ache between my legs, a whimper falling from my lips.

Dallas pulls back just enough to look at me. “And then I want you to tell me all about it.”

I don’t speak. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll beg him to stay. And I have a feeling if I begged him to stay, he’d find a way to blow off his PT. And I know with the way he’s still limping, he can’t afford to do that.

“Can you do that for me, Goldie?” He gauges me, his tone stern and the look in his eyes serious.

I nod quickly, still unable to use my words.

“Look at you,” he utters, taking me in with a revered gleam in his eyes. “I can tell by the way your skin is flushing that you’re so fucking needy.”

I nod again, my stomach dipping.

His throat bobs with a heavy swallow and he takes my hand, wrapping his fingers around my wrist and directing me to his hard length that’s wedged between us, pressing into my stomach. I wrap my fingers around the outline of his erection, reveling in the way that, with just one over-the-clothes touch, his head falls forward, eyes closed tight, forehead wrinkled in anguish as he breathes hard.

“See what you do to me, Goldie,” he murmurs, opening his eyes and staring straight into mine. “My cock is so fucking hard, and it’s all because of you.”

I whimper again, and from the feel of his rock-hard length and his filthy words, my panties are embarrassingly soaked.

“I have to go,” Dallas says, his voice like gravel, thick and rasped. “But you’ll be a good girl and do what I said?”

I nod frantically, suddenly desperate to be his good girl.

He smirks, and then, wrapping his hand around the back of my head, he’s rough as he pulls me closer, claiming my mouth with the kind of kiss that is anything but sweet, his expert tongue thrusting inside and finding mine with a throaty groan.

I’m a pathetic mess as Dallas breaks the kiss abruptly, steadying me with a penetrating gaze I feel deep in my center. And, with another sweeping graze of his lips, he says, “I’ll call you later, baby.”