Page 25

CHAPTER 25

EMILY

D inner was so good. I don’t remember a time I’ve ever eaten such delicious, authentic Italian, and Rosie was adorable. She just kept bringing us food. And it was all to die for. But after consuming my body weight in bread and pasta, and maybe one too many heavy red wines, I’m a tiny bit tipsy as Dallas and I stroll down to the shorefront, despite the freezing air blowing off the harbor.

“It’s so quiet down here,” I say softly, feeling the need to keep my voice down.

Dallas wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close as we walk the path, the Verrazano Bridge lit up against the darkness of the night sky.

“That’s where I grew up.” I point across the bay, the lights of Staten Island glittering in the distance. “Staten Island, born and raised.”

“Did you love growing up in New York?” Dallas asks.

I nod. “Yeah, I mean… I don’t know any different. Growing up in Staten Island was like its own separate town, y’know? The city—Manhattan—wasn’t somewhere we ever really needed to come. But it was good for a special occasion.” I smile at the memories. “For my thirteenth birthday, my mom took me into th e city to see Wicked . And after that, we made it a thing. Every birthday we spent in the city seeing a show, or checking out the galleries, shopping, staying in a fancy hotel, just being tourists. It was fun.”

“Growing up in Texas was a little different.” Dallas chuckles. “Especially the panhandle. We were over a forty-minute drive from civilization.”

“How does a boy who grew up on a cattle ranch in the Texas panhandle get into ice hockey?” I ask, looking up at him. “Don’t most ice hockey players learn to skate before they can even walk? I don’t imagine there’s a lot of ice in Texas?”

“My momma wanted us kids to play a team sport growing up. Living on the ranch, she wanted to make sure we weren’t excluded. My brother played football, but I wasn’t interested in that.” He grins. “And I remember watching The Mighty Ducks one night on TV, and I said to Momma, I wanna play that.”

I can’t help but laugh.

“You gotta understand, my mom will do just about all it takes to make us kids happy, so she called up a few places, found out there was a rink in Amarillo, and when I started in their peewee team, I just…” He shakes his head, a faraway look in his eyes as he gazes out at the inky water. “Turns out I was actually pretty damn good at it. Especially for a boy from the panhandle.”

Right at that moment, a heavy gust of wind blows in off the water, and I shudder as it whips around us. Dallas tightens his arm around me, pulling me even closer.

“Are your teeth chattering?”

I nod, my whole body shivering.

“Me too.” He laughs, grabbing my hand. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Dallas is a surprisingly good singer. He’s been singing along to the music in the car, specifically Luke Combs, for the duration of the drive from Bay Ridge and into Manhattan, and I can’t stop myself from smiling, watching him as he really gets into the lyrics.

Between him singing his little heart out to “Fast Car” and the way his hand hasn’t left my thigh the entire drive, I’m in trouble. With a capital T. The man is so hot, and I am not ashamed to say that I’m still wet after what I did in the car on the way here, and I really want him. Like, really want him. Sue me.

“You good, Goldie?”

I snap myself from my perverted thoughts, shaking my head. “Huh?”

“You’re looking at me like I’m a snack,” he says with a suggestive smirk. “You hungry, baby?”

I allow my gaze to dip down to his crotch, lingering with determination before meeting his eyes again and, with a smile, I nod.

Dallas squeezes my thigh a little tighter, a laugh mixed with a groan bubbling from the back of his throat.

Less than ten minutes later, Dallas is pulling up outside my apartment building, and I glance from him to the building entrance and back again, seriously considering myself.

“Do you… w-want to come up?”

He stares at me for a long moment, his gaze assessing, and I can’t help but assume I said the wrong thing. Of course, he doesn’t want to come up. I live with my sister and her wife, in their guest bedroom. What was I thinking?

I speak quickly, adding a light scoff. “I don’t even know why I asked that. It’s late. I have to work tomorrow. And I’m sure you—” My words are cut short by Dallas pressing a finger against my lips, silencing me, the look in his eyes suddenly molten.

He leans across the center console, his finger still pressed against my lips, the warmth of his body inundating me along with that spicy cologne that makes a coil of wanton need tighten deep in my core.

“I want to come up more than you’ll ever know,” he whispers, looking deep into my eyes. “But only if you really want me to.”

Slowly, he pulls his finger away, and the words are out of my mouth before I can even consider whether they’re pathetic or not. “I want you to.”

A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth and he leans in, grazing his lips against mine in a whisper kiss that makes the air around us snap and fizz with anticipation.

By the time the elevator makes it up to our floor, Dallas is kissing me like his life depends on it, his big hands palming my ass, holding me firm against him. Not breaking our kiss, he walks me backwards, down the hallway and to the door, and I have to tear myself away so I can let us in, my hands trembling as I try get the key in the lock.

Dallas wraps his arms around me from behind, his lips attaching to the hot spot on my neck, and as he sucks hard, I drop my keys to the floor. He chuckles against my skin, moving down to pick them up for me, and because I am apparently nothing but a fumbling, needy mess, he unlocks the door for us.

It’s late, and I can tell by the minimal lighting in the apartment that Tess and Bron are in bed. Leading Dallas in, I glance at him over my shoulder and hold a finger to my lips, silently telling him to be quiet. But then when he holds his hands up in surrender and starts skulking on his tip toes, looking absolutely ridiculous, I snort a laugh and have to slap a hand over my mouth.

“Shhh, Goldie!” Dallas chastises, playfully grabbing me in a mock headlock and gently placing his hand over my mouth, pulling me with him. “Where’s your bedroom?”

I wrestle against his hold and lead the way to my room at the end of the hall, but as I reach the door, I pause because I know the second I open it and invite him into the one space that has been exclusively mine during the worst time in my life, everything is going to change.

“You okay, baby?” Dallas whispers, leaning in and allowing his lips to linger right next to my ear.

I release a shuddering breath, nodding once.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.

I shake my head, glancing at him. “I want to.”

He nods, offering a soft smile. “One step at a time, baby.”

With a deep breath, I open the door and step inside, waiting for him to follow.

Dallas enters, pausing in the doorway to take a look around. His six-foot-four frame feels almost too big for the space but kind of perfect at the same time, like the missing piece to a jigsaw puzzle, as if this is where he belongs.

“This is nice,” Dallas says, looking around as he removes his jacket.

I roll my eyes. “It’s a bedroom. Calm down.”

He throws me a chastising glance. “It’s a very nice bedroom.”

I offer a wry grin. “I feel like I’m in high school again, sneaking a boy into my room…”

Dallas steps up to me, hands snaking inside my coat, gripping my waist as he stares down at me with an imploring look. “Did you sneak boys into your room often, Miss Cole?”

“No. In fact, never.”

He ducks down lower, skating his lips over my jaw and whispering in my ear, “That’s my good girl.”

I shiver. What is it about those two innocuous little words that make me so feral?

Dallas continues dragging his lips over my skin, pressing kisses down my neck, licking the pulse point as he gently pushes my coat off my shoulders. He trails his hands downwards, following the curve of my waist, my hips, stopping at the hem of my dress and tentatively inching it higher .

“No,” I manage through a whimper, stopping his hands with mine.

Dallas startles, pulling away quickly. “Sorry.”

I press my hands to his cheeks, steadying him with a look. “No, I mean, I don’t… I mean… I want—” Oh God, why is this so hard? I feel my face flame.

“What is it, Goldie?” he asks softly. “What do you want?”

With a hard swallow, I avert my gaze, unable to look in his eyes as I say, “I want to… make you feel… good.” I lift my eyes to find a slow smirk claim his lips, and suddenly I want to die. I bury my face in my hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

Dallas forces my hands away from my face, ducking down to get into my line of sight so I have nowhere to look but at him. “Don’t be embarrassed, baby,” he says softly, cupping my cheek. “You never have to be embarrassed or shy around me. I need you to know that.”

I drag my teeth over my bottom lip. “So… can I?”

His gaze flits between mine, and I see his throat bob with a heavy swallow, the hint of a grin ghosting his lips. “Can you what?”

I look down at his crotch. “You know…”

Dallas shakes his head. “I have no idea, baby.”

When I look at him again, I see it. He’s playing dumb. I deadpan, and the smirk he’s trying so hard to stifle starts to win the battle.

“Tell me,” he whispers, hand snaking around the back of my neck, pulling me close until our lips are touching. “Use your words.”

I exhale a shallow breath, looking so deep into his eyes I’m momentarily lost in them. “Can I please… suck your cock?”

His eyes fall closed and a sharp crease digs between his brows as he releases a breath. I’d almost assume he was in pain if I didn’t know any better. Or perhaps he is in pain. That’s a mighty impressive bulge in his jeans. As if on autopilot, I reach out, gently trailing my fingers over the obvious outline, my subconscious cheering when he sucks a breath in through his teeth.

My fingers climb higher, stopping at the button, but before I can release it, Dallas grabs my wrist, holding me steady, his eyes opening and meeting mine.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” he says, arching one brow. “You can suck my cock…”

I lick my lips in preparation, suddenly desperate to taste him on my tongue. But then he continues, “So long as you sit on my face while I fuck your pretty mouth.”