Page 87 of Don't Fall for the Goalie
Daltyn’s eyes darken slightly, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Like he feels it too.
The hand around my wrists loosens. Not enough to let me go. Just enough that it no longer feels playful.
My pulse pounds harder.
Neither of us moves.
Neither of us breathes.
His gaze drags slowly from my mouth back to my eyes.
“Tell me to stop,” he says quietly.
The words hit me like a physical thing. His voice is strained, like this is costing him. Like he’s trying to hold onto control by his fingernails.
And suddenly? I don’t want him to stop.
Not even a little.
So instead of answering... I kiss him.
A soft sound leaves him, rumbling against my lips.
Then he deepens it, like the restraint finally snapped.
His mouth is warm and hungry. His hand slides into my hair while he kisses me deeper, then slower, like he’s savoring me and losing his mind at the same time.
My fingers fist in his shirt automatically.
Everything about him feels too good.
The way his body presses against mine. The rough scrape of his thumb against my jaw. The way he kisses like he’s been trying to resist for too long.
A shaky breath escapes me when his tongue brushes mine.
He pulls back slightly, his lips still against mine. “Fuck,” he murmurs softly.
Heat floods through my entire body.
His forehead drops against mine for one dangerous second like he’s trying to regroup. Like he’s debating if he should stop.
Then he kisses me again. Harder this time. Needier.
And suddenly the rest of the world disappears.
We cling together, limbs tangled, our lips moving together.
Until—
BZZZZZZZZT.
Daltyn freezes.
His phone is going off inside his pocket.
There’s another buzz.
Then another.
