Page 151 of Don't Fall for the Goalie
An embarrassing squeak comes from my lips.
“I... um... need to clean my sweater.” I step around him, fleeing for the bathroom before I do something stupid. Like drop to my knees in front of Daltyn.
“Can I embarrass myself any more today?” I mutter as I slip inside the empty bathroom.
I head to the sink, staring at my reflection. My cheeks are bright, and my pupils are dilated.
I don’t recognize myself.
My gaze moves to the coffee staining my sweater. I still feel Daltyn’s hand, burning through the material, branding my skin.
Get it together.
I grab a wad of paper towels and stick them under the water, then add a dab of soap. I press it against my sweater, hoping I can get it out before the stain sets in.
The door opens, and I look up, my mouth dropping open in shock.
Shit. I forgot to lock the door.
But when I realize who it is, all rational thought flees.
“D-Daltyn? What are you doing in here?”
His eyes don’t leave mine as he locks the door. “Figured you could use some help.”
I stand there, dumbfounded. “Help?”
Desire swirls in his eyes as he moves closer. “You look really nice in the clothes I got you.”
“Thank you. I’ll try to repay?—”
His hand lifts, taking the paper towels from me. “No. I don’t want you to repay me.” His voice drops. “They’re a gift.”
“Gift?” I repeat.
“Yes.” He gently dabs at the coffee on my sweater. “This color looks really good on you.”
“Cream,” I say. “It’s light. Shows the coffee.”
“If it stains, I’ll buy you another.” He takes another step. He’s so close to me, I can’t function. It’s like my brain is short-circuiting in real time.
His eyes are still on mine as he continues dabbing at my sweater. “So the barista doesn’t affect you, huh?”
I shake my head, lost in the hunger shining from his blue eyes.
He cocks his head slightly, towering over me. “Do I affect you, Peyton?”
I swallow hard, noticing the different shades of blue in his irises.
What was the question again?
He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, grazing my cheek. Heat ripples through me again.
“Cat got your tongue, Pey?”
“I, um...” I blink, trying to focus. “Yes. You affect me.”
He smiles. “Good. Because you drive me fucking insane.” He tosses the wet paper towels in the trash without looking. “You’re all I can think about. I can’t even focus on hockey. And that’s never happened before.”
