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“No, and no one will.”
Dahlia chuckled at the arrogance. “How can you be so sure?”
Trey glanced back at her. “I own it.”
What? Dahlia jerked her head, staring at the opposite end of the hallway. How much did that cost you? Dahlia kept the question to herself, but her mind was reeling. Given the location and size of the building, it would’ve had to cost at least half a million for one unit. A prickling heat broke out on her forehead. She was so out of her element.
Dahlia didn’t come from money. She didn’t have rich friends or associate with people who were well off. Trey was in a completely different league from her in many ways, but this was the most obvious.
Trey led her down the hall, and when he walked her inside, Dahlia had to control her reaction. She’d seen large houses smaller than this. While Trey tossed his keys on the table near the door, Dahlia carefully peeked around the room.
“You live here by yourself?”
Trey smirked. “Yes.”
“This is bigger than the house I grew up in, and there were three of us.” Dahlia wandered over near the kitchen area.
“Seven stools seems excessive for one person.” Dahlia swallowed the knot in her throat, watching his face. As always, it was rigid and non-reactive, but she caught the small curl in his lips. It was fleeting, and had she blinked, she might have missed it. When Trey turned back, his armor was in full effect.
“Aesthetics.”
This was another reminder of a world she didn’t belong in. In her own home, she had three mismatched chairs for a four-person table. It was out of necessity. Aesthetics never played a role.
Dahlia cleared her throat. “I have three chairs at my table. One for me, my roommate, and a random guest.” She snorted, feeling the heat rise from her chest under his stare.
Trey stalked toward her, taking off his jacket in the process. Dahlia backed up, colliding into the kitchen counter. She wasn’t trying to shy away, but somehow all her courage from earlier quickly dissipated. He is so out of my league. It wasn’t self-deprecation. It was self-awareness. Too often, people got caught up in lust, not thinking of the reality behind it. Dahlia had gone down that road before and wouldn’t make the same mistake again. She was going into this night, knowing nothing would come from it once the sun rose. Trey would continue to be her boss, and she would continue her obsession with this man and her unrelenting crush. But she’d have some damn good material when it came to fantasizing about him.
He reached out, gripping either side of the counter and caging her in. He was so close. Another two inches, and they’d be kissing. Her heart raced, and a warm tingle spread across her skin.
“Logical.”
There was something about his interpretation. It was fair and concise without judgment. The corner of her mouth curled, and his gaze dropped to her mouth.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “But there’s nothing sexy about logical.”
Trey’s gaze darkened. “I think there is.”
Dahlia was waiting for him to kiss her. He didn’t. It was strange to be in a position of want and waiting on someone else to give it to her. Dahlia had never been shy about making the first move. But with Trey, she hesitated, and the way he angled his head and his lips softened, it was as if he knew she was waiting for him. Up until now, Trey had made the first move, and she’d been good with it. She found his dominance sexy. But he was teasing her for far too long.
Dahlia leaned in, swiping her lips against his softly, performing a little tease of her own. It was slow and sensual, her mouth lingering over his and lightly licking his bottom lip. Her lead ended the second she softly bit his lip. It seemed to ignite something in Trey. He pressed her back against the counter, and kissed her. Tongues lashing, lips smacking, and breath coming in heavy pants. It was rough and wild with little thought or finesse. It’s fucking perfect. She grabbed his waist, pulling him in closer as the edge of the countertop dug into her back. She felt the moisture pool in her panties and ground her hips against him. Dahlia wasn’t the only one completely aroused. Dahlia was prepared to strip down and get fucked in the middle of his kitchen.
Unfortunately, it ended without warning. Trey tore his mouth from hers, angling his head away from her. Dahlia tried to catch her breath and failed, gasping. Why would he abruptly stop? Their physical connection was undeniable. Hell, there was only one reason Trey had brought her back to his apartment, and they both knew it. Had he changed his mind? Or had she done something wrong?
“Did I do something?” she whispered.
Trey lifted his head. His heated gaze was the polar opposite of his actions. He didn’t look like a man who wanted to end this. “No.” His husky voice was low.
“But you stopped.”
He leaned forward, brushed his lips against her ear, and growled. “I want you in my bed.”
Dahlia tried to ignore the fluttering in her belly and the pounding of her heart. She wouldn’t dismiss or discount kitchen counter sex, but the possession in his tone when he spoke of his bed and wanting her there had her racing heart threatening to beat out of her chest.
He slowly straightened and grabbed her hand, threading his fingers through hers.
Dahlia followed him down the hall. She’d be kicking herself later that she didn’t even look in the other rooms, but she was mesmerized by their clasped hands and Trey himself. A man she’d deemed out of her league, who she’d obsessed over for months, was taking her to his bed. And I’m holding his hand. Dahlia was sure this wasn’t something he did often, simply the way his hold was firmer. Or maybe this was his way of staking his claim. Either way, Dahlia was enjoying every second. He stopped at the end of the hallway, released her hand, and gestured for her to walk in.
His bedroom was sleek with muted grays and completely orderly. Just what she’d expect. Even the art on his wall was bland and meticulously coordinated with each piece of furniture. And his bed is friggin’ huge!
