Wearing a drenched t-shirt and a flat expression, Dallas is standing right in front of me.
What the?—
I didn’t hear him approach. I swear, I didn’t hear anything except for the rain and the beat of my own heart. He’s close—too, too close—and, suddenly, the wall at my back feels intentional, like I put myself here without realizing it. I place my hands on his chest, palms to his pecs, not sure if I’m warding him off… or if I’m eager to pull him even closer.
Dallas’s big body blocks the downpour completely. Water sheets down his back, his t-shirt already soaked through, the black color shimmering like ink and molded around his sculpted torso. His hair is plastered to his forehead, rain running down his jaw, but he doesn’t seem to notice it at all.
I stare at him, stunned by how much of the storm he’s taking on himself—and just how quickly he was able to follow me.
Follow me andfindme.
“Lucy,” he says, his voice so guttural, the rain nearly drowns him out.
Only nearly, though, because I heard him. I heard what he said. Just my name and nothing else, and that’s all he has to say to have me shivering beneath him as he throws his hand up over my head, caging me in between the hard brick at my back and his even harder chest.
Dallas dips his head. “Where do you think you’re running off to, sweet Lucy?”
ELEVEN
DANDELION
LUCY
Shit.
Okay. So he knows I was running, but from the hint of a curl to his lips—and the anger simmering in his deep green eyes—he has no ideawhyI had to go.
“I wasn’t running,” I say automatically.
The lie sounds pathetic, even to me.
He narrows his gaze at me. “Do you know how many people I almost mowed down as I raced after you? Here’s a tip, Luce. We didn’t meet until we were in our mid-twenties because we went to separate schools, but you told me once you did track in high school. Seeing you go? Yeah. I believe it.”
I tuck that little nugget away. It’s easier to blame my urge to run on a childhood affinity for the sport than admit that I was scared—or focus on any poor people on the street who accidentally got between Dallas and me.
Me and Dallas…
I swallow roughly. Then, instead of answering his question, I ask one of my own. “How did you know I left?”
“I was on my way in to the Fortress. Imagine my surprise when my wife… who gave me her word that she wouldn’t leave the penthouse, especially not without me… she was dashing out the door, in such a rush to leave she didn’t even see me about to get on the elevator. Of course I turned and followed. What else would I do?”
Keep your cool, Lucy. Dallas has all of the advantage here. If he is lying to you, you can’t expect him to be honest now, and yet?—
“I don’t know. Maybe you can have a little rendezvous with your pretty fiancé?” When Dallas stiffens, I can’t help but turn the screws a little more, though I don’t know who it hurts more. “Her name was Heather, I believe? At least, that’s what she told me when I answered the door and she told me that she was there for you… and that you’re supposed to be getting married in two weeks.”
If I had been thinking, I would’ve confronted Dallas with the truth somewhere dry and warm and not when he has his arms caging me in. Because the second I snap, he closes his pose so that, despite my renewed urge to bolt, there’s no escaping him.
I mean, I try. I give it a good effort, squirming against his wet body, trying not to remember how good his skin feels against mine when we’re in bed, but Dallas… yeah. He’s not letting me go anywhere.
Finally, I stop, and I glare up at him. “Move.”
“No.”
“Dallas, I… I can’t do this right now.”
“If I move, you’ll disappear, and I won’t be able to explain… look. What you think is going on? It’s not what it seems.”
“Oh? You’renotengaged to marry some pretty little thing when I’m wearing your ring?”
