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Shit.
I break eye contact with Dom and reach for my keys in my purse while I try to pull myself together enough to not seem so affected. Obviously, this night isn’t going to end the way I hoped it would.
Eight
Who the fuck is this guy? And why the hell is he touching Laney?
My gaze flicks back to Laney, and that weird twisty sensation in my gut intensifies and my chest tightens. Fuck, she looks good. Her blonde hair falls in waves past her shoulders, and she’s wearing a black dress that hugs every luscious curve. Her lips are coated with a deep-red lipstick that has my brain thinking thoughts I’ve never allowed myself to consider with her before. Like what they might feel like wrapped around my cock.
I swallow thickly and fight against the panic that’s rising up until it feels like it’s suffocating me. Wait. Is she on a date?
What the fuck? She tells me she’s in love with me and then goes on a date with another guy?! Fuck no.
She rifles through her purse and then pulls out her keys. Her “date”—fuck, I hate him already for touching her, for thinking he has any right to her at all—drops his hand from her back when I glare at him.
His eyes widen. “Oh shit! You’re Dominic Smith! Man, I watched you play the other night against the Rams. You’re a fucking legend!”
He extends his hand for me to shake. I glance to Alayna, who’s staring at me with a furrow between her brows and that lush bottom lip tucked between her teeth. My gut warms with a desire I’ve never felt before—at least not this strongly since I’ve always been able to put her in the best friend box—and I reach out and shake her date’s hand.
“Ben,” he supplies his name even though I don’t ask. He won’t be around much longer for it to matter. There’s no way she’s dating this guy. He’s not good enough for her. I don’t know anything about him, but I’m sure of that much. No man is good enough for her.
He looks at Alayna, and his hand lands on her back again. I have to fight back a growl. I don’t like him touching her, and I can finally admit to myself that it’s not just because she’s my best friend.
She is, but she’s always been more than that.
Alayna is the kind of woman you commit to, which was something I’d promised myself I’d never do. I’ve never allowed myself to look at her as more than a friend because I knew I couldn’t give her what she deserved, but being faced with the possibility of losing her completely has all my prior barriers dropping, and now I’m forced to see her—really see her.
She’s fucking stunning, even as she shoots daggers at me for how rude I’m being to her date. But I’ll take her anger over indifference any day. Anger means she still cares.
I’ve given her three days of space, but I can’t stay away anymore. Not only do I miss the shit out of her, but Shawna is breathing down my throat about this fake relationship stunt. I came here to convince Laney to do this with me, and I’m more motivated than ever after seeing her walk down the hall with this ball bag. What would she have done if I wasn’t standing here? Would she have let him kiss her? Would she have invited him in?
Red explodes through my vision at the thought of her with this guy.
No fucking way.
Not happening.
She belongs with me.
The thought is there before I’m fully aware of it, but the second it registers, my entire body goes on lockdown as my gaze shoots back to Laney, sliding down her tall, curvy frame.
How have I never noticed that she’s fucking perfect? Her round ass that rivals any Kardashian and her thick thighs that I could grip firmly while I pound into her. She wouldn’t be bony or cold like some of the women I’ve been with who cared more about their appearance than actually enjoying the act itself. No, Laney has always been passionate. She’d make sounds, maybe even scream as her thick thighs wrapped tight around my waist.
I suck in a sharp breath and come back to reality at the sound of my name.
Laney arches a brow. “Did you hear me?”
“No,” I say, my voice hoarse. Her eyes narrow like she can’t figure me out, which I’m thankful for. I’m also silently praying she doesn’t look down because I can feel my hard dick pressing against the zipper of my dark wash jeans.
“I asked why are you here?”
“I need to talk to you.” My voice sounds more normal, thank God.
She turns to Ben, her body separated by mere inches from his, and puts her hand on his bicep. “Thank you for tonight. I had a good time.”
He smiles at her and I curl my hand into a fist. I will not punch him. I will not punch him.
“It was my pleasure.” His gaze flicks to me before it lands back on her. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.”
