Page 71

The broken hope in his voice killed me.

I slipped into his lap, wrapping my arms around him. He tensed in surprise, as if he’d been so lost in thought he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone, but then his strong arms encircled me. Latching on as if I were a lifeline, I swore he placed a kiss on the top of my head before resting his chin there. We sat there in a comfortable silence, nothing but the steady thump of his heart against my cheek.

I was bad at addressing my own emotions…I had no clue how to go about helping Dalton with his. But I wanted to try. I desperately wanted to be there for him, so I shoved away all of the panic that came with caring for him and what opening those doors would mean and was just…present.

“I think he’s just worried about the season. I’ve just got to prove to him that I can date someone and still focus on the game.” His voice was rough.

I tightened my grip when I heard how he tried to rationalize his father’s treatment. He wasn’t just trying to earn approval—he was trying to earn his father’s love.

My heart hurt for him. While my family might not always understand or agree with my choices, their love was never conditional.

I’d never had to prove my worth to be a part of their lives.

“Dalton,” I said softly, my voice catching, unsure how much I could even say. This wasn’t my place. What right did I have to interfere with that relationship? We’d have to part ways eventually, and Vincent Langley would still be his father long after I was gone.

My gut clenched at that—everything about it felt sour and wrong. Tendrils of doubt about whether I truly needed to be alone to reach my dream seeped in, but Dalton’s voice interrupted before I could fall down my own mental rabbit hole.

“Yeah, Sunshine?”

I shifted in his lap so I could look him in the eyes. “You’re an incredible athlete. One of the best I’ve ever worked with. You’re disciplined, talented, and this team? They’re lucky to have you as their captain. You’ll crush it this season, and your dad would be a fool not to see that.”

His gaze softened, his fingers tracing a soothing line along my back, making their way to cup my face. “You are the most amazing woman I have ever met, and I would very much like to kiss you now.”

I forgot how to breathe. How to function.

My heart threatened to jump out of my chest. It wasn’t like we hadn’t kissed before, but something about agreeing to this one felt different. Like I was opening up a door to something new, something not as fake as I was still pretending to believe. I couldn’t get my words to work. All I could give him was a nod.

It was enough.

Dalton’s sharp inhale was his only reaction before pulling me in and closing the distance between our mouths. It was like liquid fire flowed through my veins. I moaned against him, his tongue greeting mine with hunger, and I tilted my head back to give him more access, putty in his hands, clinging onto him as if he were my lifeline.

Nothing else mattered.

Everything slipped away the moment Dalton’s lips moved against mine.

I felt his kiss everywhere, like it had a direct line between my thighs. His mouth was perfection, the softness of his lips contrasting with the roughness of his jaw. I wrapped my arms around his neck, digging my fingers into his hair.

“Sunshine,” he moaned as I straddled him, his hands finding my ass while his teeth pulled on my bottom lip. I couldn’t help myself and ground down onto him, moaning at the friction against my clit. He was so fucking hard that it short-circuited everything in my brain.

“Fuck,” he gasped, head tipping backward as I circled my hips. “Having fun?”

I kissed down his jawline, nipping at the sensitive skin near his ear. I needed more of him, driven to show him he was wanted, and to wipe away the doubt and rejection.

“You have no idea, Thatcher,” I whispered, pulling his lobe in my mouth and biting down, timing it with the apex of my thighs grinding down on his cock. His fingers dug into my flesh, breathing, picking up in pace. I wouldn’t be surprised if ten fingertip-shaped bruises were left from his grip. And fuck me if that wasn’t hot to witness a man falling apart from below you, sensing his need to touch you.

As if he read my thoughts, he slipped his hands under my shirt, trailing his fingertips from my back to just beneath my ribs, teasing the edge of my bra. Our tongues clashed as the kiss deepened. I couldn’t stop moving on top of him, the need to feel more of him aggressively taking over my mind. My fingers found the edge of his shirt, bunching up the fabric as I pulled it over his head, needing to run my hands over the corded muscles of his arms, chest, and back.

He pulled back from the kiss, his eyes blazing with desire.

“Ari, can I touch you?” The low growl rumbled through his chest like he was barely holding himself together.

Holy shit.

“Yes.”

The word escaped almost involuntarily from my kiss-swollen lips, sounding like a plea.

He didn’t hesitate, hands moving under my shirt and bra to cover my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my hardened nipples, sending a thrill down my spine.