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“Why Sunshine?” I asked, barely able to remember how to breathe.
He hesitated long enough that I thought he wouldn’t answer. “Because the first time I heard you laugh, it reminded me of the warmth on my skin when the sun hits my face,” he said softly, his voice a little rough around the edges, like he wasn’t used to saying things like this.
Something inside me melted.
It felt terrifyingly real, more than anything I’d expected from this arrangement. On the one hand, I wanted more moments like this, more glimpses of the man behind that practiced public façade, but on the other, it went against everything I’d had planned.
His touch broke me from the inner turmoil. Without a word, he scooped me up like I weighed nothing, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck as he carried me down a hall.
“Dalton, I can walk,” I protested, but it didn’t carry much bite.
“I know.”
I didn’t argue. Instead, I let myself settle into his arms, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat. He pushed open a door with his shoulder, revealing a guest bedroom as meticulously decorated as the rest of the place.
“Stay here,” he said, setting me down on the navy duvet before disappearing.
I am playing with fire.
Silky fabric enveloped me as I flopped back, covering my face with my hands, hoping that all my questions and concerns would be answered when I pulled them away, but it didn’t happen. The little voice in my head telling me to say “fuck it” and throw myself at him was getting louder and louder, though.
“Figured you’d want something comfortable,” he said from the doorway, watching me with quiet intensity. I reached for the worn gray shirt he held out.
“Thank you.”
I clutched the soft fabric in my hands, watching him take a small step forward. For a moment, I thought he might lean down and kiss me. My breath hitched, and I felt my pulse race as his fingers brushed my chin, tilting it up ever so slightly.
“Goodnight, Sunshine.”
His lips pressed gently against my forehead again, thumb grazing my cheek one last time before he stepped back and left.
Like he hadn’t just sent me further into a spiral.
What the hell?
Was this what it was like to have blue balls? I didn’t even have a vibrator here to help relieve the tension he’d built up. A part of me wanted to yell after him. To demand he get his firm ass back here and give me something dirtier than a sweet forehead kiss. He had to know that every nerve in my body was buzzing with anticipation for something more.
But the other half was thankful he’d stepped away.
Why did he have to be such a good guy? Why did he have to make me like him and not just lust after him? Because just wanting to have sex, I could get behind. I could emotionally detach from a hookup arrangement. Get him to give me amazing orgasms and then bounce.
But liking him as a person? Fuck, that was different territory.
I tugged off my clothes, pulled on his soft, oversized shirt, and slipped beneath the covers, wrapped in his scent. My mind kept whirling, caught between wanting more, and fearing what that more might mean, as I drifted off to sleep.
TWENTY-SIX
DALTON
DOWN BAD & HORNY
My fake girlfriend was sleeping in my guest bedroom.
What I’d give for her to be not sleeping in mine.
What I’d give for her to actually be mine…
Fuck.
