Page 84 of Don't Fall for the Goalie
“It did not.”
“Your soul practically left your body.”
“No it didn’t.”
“You stared at that bra for a solid thirty seconds.”
His eyes narrow.
I laugh softly, enjoying this way too much.
“Peyton.”
“What?”
“You’re being bratty.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
His hand suddenly settles against the small of my back again, warm and possessive.
My breath catches.
He leans down slowly until his mouth hovers near my ear. “Careful, Pey,” he murmurs softly.
Heat explodes through my stomach.
“Don’t push me too far.”
My pulse loses its damn mind.
And the terrifying part?
I’m not entirely sure I want to stop pushing.
Ever.
24
PEYTON
The tension from the lingerie store follows us all the way back to the cabin.
It lingers beneath every glance. Every accidental brush of our skin. Every moment Daltyn looks at me too long before catching himself.
Which means dinner is a disaster.
“You need to sit down,” Daltyn says for what feels like the fiftieth time while I limp around the kitchen helping by chopping vegetables.
“I am sitting.”
“You’re leaning against the counter.”
“Close enough.”
“It’s not.”
I grin while tossing peppers into the pan. “You’re bossy.”
