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We both burst into laughter, the charged moment dissolving into comfortable silence.

“Well,” I said, placing my hand on his chest, creating space between us, “you’d better get home, athletes like you need your sleep and all that.”

“I will, as soon as you get into your apartment and lock the door. Are you comfortable with that guy, or should I tell him to get lost?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m going to chill out here until they’re done in there.” I hiked my thumb over my shoulder. “Don’t feel like watching a bad porno, you know?” Hopefully my phone had enough battery to last however much longer they’d be at it. I’d send her a text to wrap it up.

Dalton, however, didn’t move to leave. “What do you mean you’re staying out here? Don’t you have your own room in there?”

“Studio, remember?”

I was back to being caged, but the heat in his eyes was different this time—protective. “Ariella, what’s that supposed to mean? Where do you sleep?”

Shit. I knew he wasn’t going to like my answer.

“On my cousin’s couch,” I said sheepishly.

One second I was standing by the door, and the next I found myself draped over Dalton’s shoulder, eye-level with his toned, Wrangler-covered ass.

“Dalton. Put me down. Where the fuck are you taking me?” I pushed myself up, bracing myself on his lower back, looking around to see if anyone was coming to my rescue, but there wasn’t a soul in the hallway.

“Home. I’m taking you home.”

“This is my home.” I wriggled around, trying to get free, but his grip was iron-clad.

“Not for tonight, it’s not.” My protest was silenced with a slap to my ass. “Stop moving, or you’re getting more of those.”

Thank god he couldn’t see me bite my lip at the sensation of his rough hand rubbing away the pain.

He chuckled. “Or maybe that’s exactly what you want.”

Ignoring the fact that he was completely correct, I huffed. “You know this is a total overreaction, right?”

“Nope,” he said easily, striding toward the elevator. “This is exactly the reaction you deserve for not telling me you’ve been living on a couch.”

“Dalt, I’m telling you, I don’t need to stay here tonight. I’m just going to give her a little longer to get her freak on and go back.” My argument died on my tongue when I stepped out into his darkened apartment.

Dallas City Center glittered beneath us through a wall of windows, each light a tiny spark against the night. The view was mesmerizing, like floating above the city. My feet carried me across the sleek plank floors, straight into his open, expansive living room, even though I’d sworn in the car I wouldn’t step foot inside his place.

“Wow,” I said, my voice no louder than a whisper.

“Wow is right.”

I looked up, surprised at his proximity. But his attention wasn’t on what lay beyond the glass. It was strictly on me. My stomach somersaulted at the intensity in his eyes as they locked onto where I ran my tongue along my bottom lip, pulling it between my teeth.

I tore my eyes away, taking in the apartment. Needing a reprieve before I did something stupid, like tackle him and make out with his stupidly gorgeous face, or see if stubble was a good inner thigh exfoliator.

It was beautiful—a designer’s dream, with charcoal walls, metal accents, and an impressive display of sleek surfaces. But it looked too curated, like someone had staged the whole place without a single personal touch.

No photos, no plants, not even a cozy throw blanket.

I ran my hand over the back of the cognac leather sectional, making my way toward the kitchen.

“Did you just move in?” I asked, raising a brow. “Or did we break into a show apartment?” I turned to face him, walking backward and gasping dramatically. “Oh my god, you don’t even live here, do you? Was this all to impress me? Because, if so, I’m already fake dating you. No need to catch a breaking and entering charge for me.”

“The sarcasm isn’t cute.”

“Well, you must think I’m hideous because sarcasm is my main form of communication. With a dash of dark humor as a coping mechanism.” I caught him shaking his head as I turned to press one of the flat wall plates, hoping it would turn on the lights and not do something weird like drop a disco ball from the ceiling, or whatever rich people had in their homes.