Page 55
Thoroughly marking her as mine.
Need washed over me. I’d been unsure if she’d ever let me kiss her again, but right now felt like a good time to see. The center console dug into my stomach as I leaned across, holding her face in my hands.
She gulped, her eyes wide, not in surprise but in anticipation, our breaths mingling. I paused, giving her enough time to pull away if this wasn’t what she wanted. Her shallow panting breaths led me to believe her mind was in the same fucking gutter as mine, but I needed to be sure.
Needed her to be sure.
“Ariella, can I ki—” my words were cut off by a blinding flash that shattered the moment.
We blinked, disoriented.
“What the fuck was that?” I asked, looking out the car window, keeping her shielded with my body. A small crowd of photographers gathered outside, cameras pressed against the glass, popping bright flashes. Voices rose above the clicking shutters, each question more insistent than the last.
“Dalton! Over here! Is this the woman from the bar?” one reporter shouted, his face illuminated by flashes bouncing off the windows.
More questions poured out, overlapping, each one louder than the last. “Who is she? Another fling, or the real deal?”
“What about Emma? Is this the reason you broke it off?” another called, his camera pressed against the glass like a vulture. The tint probably blocked any good shots.
The energy in the car shifted instantly. Ari stiffened beneath me, her fingers curling in her lap, jaw tense. “It’s probably frowned upon to hit them with the car door, huh?”
“Assault is generally frowned upon, and there may be too much photo evidence to prove it was an accident, but if you decide to do it, I’ll back you in court.” I tried to lighten the mood, but the statement sounded rough and pissed off. Which was accurate to how I was feeling about being cock-blocked by paparazzi.
My stomach turned with regret at the all too real reminder that I was the real reason she was in this mess to begin with, because my name brought attention like this.
I’d dragged her into a lifestyle she hadn’t asked for when I’d approached her in that bar.
“I’m sorry you have to deal with this shit because of me. Let’s get out of here,” I murmured, throwing the car into reverse and weaving out of the parking lot and away from the flashing lights.
“Hey, unless you’re the one who called to tip them off, this isn’t your fault.” She reached over and intertwined our fingers. I glanced into the rearview mirror, watching the crowd shrink smaller the farther away we got. Logically, I knew she was right, but that didn’t lessen the weight of the rock sitting on my chest.
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t be in this if I—”
“Let’s get one thing straight, Dalton. I make the decisions for my life, so stop speaking about this as if I’m trailing behind you helplessly.”
“There was no way for you to know who I was that night,” I argued. “That being around me would equal that kind of attention.”
She sucked her teeth, pulling her hand away to throw it in the air. “Ay. I was at the private soft opening of a sports bar with athletes and agents on the guest list. You’re six fucking three. Let’s not insult my intelligence and think I didn’t have an inkling that you were an athlete with your Greek god-like body.” I smirked at her angry rant. Half of this stuff she never would have voiced if she weren’t so fired up. “Sure, I thought you were a bull rider given your outfit and, you know, being in Texas, but still, I knew what I was potentially getting myself into when I said yes.”
I nodded my head, the weight lightening.
“And another thing,” she shifted in her seat to face me and I had to force myself to keep my eyes on the road. “I might have been desperate when I told HR we were a couple, but I still had choices. I always have choices, and I chose you.”
Logically, I knew her words were meant to be platonic. They weren’t intended to crack open the shield I’d placed around my heart since Emma—yet that was exactly what they did.
The truth hit like a high-stick to the heart.
I wanted Ari.
More than that, I wanted to convince her to choose me for more than this sham of a relationship. And I had no idea what to do about any of it.
TWENTY-FIVE
ARIELLA
“NO ONE’S THAT LOUD FROM A MAN.”
Something had shifted between us since the paparazzi run-in nearly a week before.
