Page 39

“I’d never regret that,” I said so only she could hear before addressing the others. “Any of you have a problem with it, you can come talk to me. Now go take a lap around the building.”

Her elbow rammed into my rib while the guys filed outside, causing a grunt to slip from my mouth.

“Don’t ever tell my players what to do while in my gym. It undercuts my authority,” she practically growled.

Shit. “Sorry, you’re right. Force of habit.”

She crossed her arms, and I bit back a groan at the sight of her cleavage threatening to spill over the tip of her tank top, thankful that there was no one in here but us.

“You’re killing me, Sunshine,” I said, my voice low, wiping a hand over my face. Could I make it a rule that she could only wear turtle necks from now on? Baggy ones. Probably not. If I told her she wasn’t allowed to wear shirts like this anymore, or to do anything she wanted to do, she’d beat my ass.

“Are you even listening to me?” That kicked me out of my inner musing. She rolled her eyes, repeating what I’d missed while fantasizing about her. “I said, you don’t need to go all knight in shining armor either. I don’t need you taking care of me, Dalton.”

No, she definitely didn’t.

I leaned down so my lips were close to her ear. God, she even smelled like sunshine. An intoxicating mix of coconut and something floral, maybe? Whatever it was, it was warm—tempting.

“Didn’t we go over this? You may not need me to take care of you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do it.” My breath fluttered across her cheek, and I smiled at her sharp inhale. “And I need my guys to know that if they even fucking look at you the wrong way, they’ll have to deal with me too.” Her skin pebbled up on the column of her neck.

“I can keep them in line, myself, you know?” she bit back after a few seconds, her eyes burning with a fire that set my heart racing and dick twitching. Space, I needed some space between us before I did something caveman-esque, like throwing her over my shoulder and carrying her to her office.

“You can keep me in line, so I have no doubt you can do the same for them.” I shot her a wink before escaping to run after the rest of the team.

God, running with a hard-on was going to be a bitch.

NINETEEN

ARIELLA

GRACIELLA’S DADDY ISSUES ARE SHOWING…

My breath caught in my throat as I stood beneath a cascade of icy water. Droplets trickled down my body, tracing a path down to my feet, chilling my heated skin. It wasn’t the humidity alone that had me feeling so flushed.

A certain athlete with the body of a Greek god was also to thank for that.

I stood there, embracing the chill, surrendering myself to the relentless stream, hoping it would chase away the images of his thighs. I thought riding in the car with him this morning was torture?

It had nothing on seeing him in the gym.

Fuck, every time he was in the rack squatting, I had to pull my eyes away from the way his shorts tightened around his legs at the bottom of the movement.

I want to identify as those shorts.

My groan echoed off the white subway tiles of the tiny shower, remembering when that man had done the unthinkable. The image was seared into my brain for all eternity and was sure to be the material I used for self-care for years to come.

Him in his hoochie daddy shorts, reaching back and pulling his sweat-soaked shirt off with one hand. I’d seen plenty of male athletes’ bare chests, and never in my career had I wanted to lick the sweat droplets off of their abs and trace that cut V with my tongue.

And the abs weren’t even what had finally sent me into a mental tailspin. No, my downfall occurred when he took a drink of his water and then spit it onto the turf. Some sick part of my brain desperately wanted it to be my mouth he’d spat into.

My hand trailed down my body, and I imagined it was Dalton’s palm caressing my torso, making its way toward my pussy. If I didn’t release some of this tension, I was going to end up fucking my fake boyfriend, and that was the last thing I needed.

Or exactly what you need…

“Why do you have to be so goddamn hot?” I muttered to myself as the stream of water hit my face.

“Eh. It’s genetic,” a random masculine voice responded.

A scream ripped from my throat, my hands dropping to cover myself despite the shower curtain being closed. The bathroom door burst open, and a panicked Graciella yelled out, asking what was wrong, right as I opened the curtain enough to see who was in the bathroom with me.