Page 36 of One Night Only
“Is that what youreallywant, Goldie?” His voice is so low, I almost miss it.
I stare at him for what feels like an eternity but is probably no longer that a few seconds before I finally shake my head. The corner of his mouth tips up at one side and he reaches across, his hand finding mine and giving it a tender squeeze before returning to the steering wheel.
With a heavy exhale, I sag back into the plush leather seat, looking out at the view of the city as we drive across the bridge, wondering what the hell I’m even doing right now and trying so hard not to think about what that one simple touch just did to my insides.
It isn’t long before Dallas pulls into the parking garage under his building, reversing into what I assume is his designated spot. Killing the engine, silence settles around us, and he’s out of the car and standing by my door before I even have a chance to unfasten my seatbelt.
Grudgingly, I take his hand and allow him to help me up, keeping hold of him as he walks me through the quiet garage to the waiting elevator, still holding onto him as we ascend to the fifth floor, and clutching his hand as we step off the elevator and walk to his door. It’s only then that I realize he’s limping.
“Are you okay?”
Glancing down at me with a quirked brow like he’s confused by my question, I jut my chin in the direction of his leg. “You’re limping.”
“Pulled a muscle last night,” he says like it’s no big deal. “But I got a scan this morning, and it’s nothing serious.”
He enters his code into the keypad and opens the door,waiting for me to walk through first, letting go of my hand, he grazes my lower back as I enter. I somehow forgot just how spectacular the view is from this place, the city skyline alight from across the river. Breathtaking.
“Shit,” Dallas hisses under his breath.
I startle, looking back to see him grab his upper thigh.
“It doesn’t look like nothing serious,” I say, instinctively moving closer to him.
“Aw, you worried about me, Goldie?”
I roll my eyes, shrugging off my coat. “Tell yourself that if it helps.”
Dallas winks at me, taking my coat and hanging it in the small closet next to the front door before tossing his wallet and keys onto the side table. “Would you like a drink?”
“Hmmm.” I tap my chin in mock consideration. “Beer or protein shake… How can I possibly choose?”
“Actually, smart ass—” He gives my side a playful tickle as he passes, causing me to giggle. “I bought wine.”
“You what?” Surprised, I follow him to the kitchen at the far end of the space where he opens a small built-in wine fridge that appears to be fully stocked.
He crouches down, reading the labels out loud. “Chardonnay, sauvignon blanc, rose, or your favorite,” he glances back at me with a smug smile, “cabernet.”
I can’t help but laugh at the way he says the words. Sauvignon with a hard g. Rose, without the accent. But also, my heart skitters in my chest at the thought that he went out of his way to buy wine. “You stocked up on wine? For me?”
Dallas stands to his full height, looking down at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. “Pfft. No,” he scoffs. “Of course I didn’t.” Rolling his eyes, he flashes me another devastating grin, and I swear my heart melts.
“I’ll take arosé, please,” I ask, annunciating the accent.
“Onerose, coming up,” he teases, grabbing the bottle from its rack.
I shove him playfully, but he snags my wrist and pulls me flush against him, and suddenly the lighthearted air between us shifts into something thick with the kind of tension that pools low in my belly.
I look up at him, taking in the way his green eyes flare, my brows knitting together at his sudden change in mood. It’s not scary or anything, just confusing.
“I was jealous,” is all he says, a crease etched between his eyebrows like he’s trying to make sense of his own words.
“I made a stupid mistake dancing with that woman.” He blinks hard, bowing his head a moment, his forehead touching mine. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I just wanted to see—” His eyes flit between mine, and I witness a sliver of uncharacteristic doubt in his gaze as he says, “I wanted to see that this thing between us… isn’t just one-sided.”
“Dallas, I?—”
“How do you think I felt, Goldie?” he interjects. “Forced to just stand there and watch that tuxedo-wearing jerkoff talk to you,touchyou, make you smile, flaunt you like a smug, age-appropriate asshole...” His jaw ticks and he lifts his hand, raking his fingers through his hair, which is a lot less perfectly tamed than it was earlier this evening. “He got to do all the things I want to do with you. And I had to just stand there and take it.”
I can see just how hard it is for him to admit this to me, and my heart breaks a little. I didn’t go out of my way to try and hurt him tonight. That was the last thing I wanted.
