Playing for Keeps (Hope Valley Book 10)

by Jessica Prince

  I was going out of my mind, and I had no one to talk to about it. If I called Hayden, she’d just say, “I told you so.” And the girls at the club had already witnessed my humiliation and had no problem having fun at my expense. I was so desperate to talk to anyone, I was actually contemplating heading across the hall and having a heart-to-heart with Ms. Weatherby when a knock sounded on my front door.

  Grabbing the gray jersey-knit robe from the foot of my bed, I pulled it on and padded toward the door just as the person on the other side knocked again, more persistently this time.

  Pressing my hands to the wood and standing on my tip-toes, I looked through the peephole and felt the breath expel from my lungs when I saw who was standing on the other side.

  I jolted with the third knock, whispering, “Shit,” as I dropped back down and hugged the hard metal door like I was afraid he could somehow see through it and knew I was right on the other side.

  “Charlotte.” That rich, velvety voice saying my name sent a shiver of delight down my spine. “I know you’re in there. Open the door.”

  Taking a step back, I squeezed my eyes closed and curled my lips between my teeth while I fought to control my heart before it beat right out of my chest.

  “You’ve got three seconds to open up, or I’ll do it myself,” he warned, sending a thrill of anticipation across my skin.

  I tried to move, to reach out and twist the deadbolt, but my limbs were frozen in place, my eyes glued to the door as my brain struggled to get my body to listen to its simple commands. Then, before I had a chance to act, I watched in shock as the lock turned all on its own and the door swung open.

  My jaw dropped and my eyes went wide as Dalton stepped into my apartment like he owned the place, closing the door behind him with a resounding click.

  “Did you . . .?” I gave my head a shake, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. “Did you just pick my lock?”

  Sure enough, he flipped closed a tiny case that looked a hell of a lot like the lock pick cases I’d seen people carrying on TV shows and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. Jeans, by the way, that looked faded and soft from about a million washes and fit his long, thick thighs to absolute perfection.

  “Yep.”

  I gaped, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “So, you just walk around with a lock pick set in your freaking pocket all the time?”

  He shrugged indolently. “Never know when it’ll come in handy.”

  I narrowed my eyes at his reply, reminded of that night months ago when things were really starting to heat up with the Cormack case. It also just so happened to be the same night Dalton came into my life and shook everything up, turning my world upside down with one heated look from those dark, mysterious gunmetal eyes.

  One of the dirty cops who was part of Cormack’s operation had been killed, putting Micah and Leo even more on edge in regards to my safety. They’d called a late-night meeting after the man’s body was found, and Dalton had been tasked with picking me up and taking me to Alpha Omega.

  He’d woken me from a dead sleep, scaring me half to death as he hovered by the side of my bed. I didn’t have the first clue how he’d gotten into my apartment, and needless to say, I’d been pissed as hell by the middle-of-the-night intrusion.

  “You have got to stop breaking into my apartment!” I demanded with a childish stomp of my foot. “Doors have locks for a reason.”

  “Told you I was comin’ in one way or another. Not my fault you didn’t listen.” Suddenly the atmosphere around us shifted. An electric current shot through the air, making me all too aware of just how tiny my apartment felt now that Dalton was in it. It was as if his presence expanded into every nook and cranny, stretching from one corner to the other as his gray eyes did a full body scan of me.

  “Fuck me,” he said on a rumble that sounded like it had been ripped from the deepest recesses of his chest. “What’re you wearing?”

  Until that very moment, I’d completely forgotten the only thing covering my body was a short robe that was so damn thin it didn’t leave much to the imagination. At his attention, I felt my nipples stiffen into hard peaks that felt sharp enough to cut glass and quickly crossed my arms over my chest in an attempt to hide my body’s reaction.

  “Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting company. And it isn’t like you gave me a chance to put on clothes.”

  I glanced down to check and make sure I was as covered as possible, and when my gaze returned to Dalton’s, the flames burning bright in his eyes had turned the gray to liquid steel.

  “Don’t feel the need to get dressed on my account.”

  At his husky, rough words, my heart lurched and heat pooled in my core, making my folds slick with need. God, this man drove me crazy.

  Shifting from foot to foot, I tried to ignore the deep ache that had centered between my thighs as I stumbled over my words. “Wh-what . . . um, what are you doing here?”

  He blinked slowly, the long, thick fan of lashes kissing his cheekbones before he opened his eyes again. I got the impression he was trying to calm himself down, just like I was currently struggling to do.

  “Wanted to talk to you about what went down at The Tap Room earlier today.”

  Of course he was. So much for pretending that never happened.

  “Look, I’m sorry I acted like an ass. How I treated your sister wasn’t cool, and I’m really sorry about that.”

  His brows slashed down over his eyes. He started moving toward me at a slow, predatory pace, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was his prey. “That isn’t what I’m talkin’ about and you know it.”

  I let out a shaky breath, feeling goosebumps spread across my skin. For every step forward he took, I took one back, hoping that if I could maintain a distance between us, I’d be able to think clearly. “Dalton,” I said carefully, hoping to keep the tremble out of my voice. “There’s nothing else to talk about.”

  “You were jealous.”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Liar,” he clipped just as my back hit the wall behind me. He lifted his arms, bracing his palms on either side of my head, caging me in. The predator had just cornered his prey, and there was nowhere else to go. “You saw me with another woman and that pissed you off. Admit it, you couldn’t stand the thought of me with someone else.”

  “Can you please move back?” I whispered weakly, one part of me needing the space while the other hated the idea of not having him close. I was a freaking mess!

  His beard twitched as his lips pulled into a smile that made my heart race. “Nah, I think I’m good here. Somethin’ tells me the only way I’ll get the truth out of you is by makin’ sure you have no escape. Now admit it.”

  I let out a long, stuttered breath as my stomach twisted into knots. “I didn’t—that—I was just mad,” I insisted, the argument sounding lame to my own ears. “You made it sound like you wanted me, then days later you were with this gorgeous woman, and I thought . . .”

  He leaned in closer, the smell of him, that strong, masculine scent, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. “That I’d moved on.”

  Christ. Why did hearing those words hurt so damn much?

  Because you’re head over heels for the guy, you moron, a voice in my head screamed out.

  “Would you be okay with that? Me moving on with someone else?”

  “I—” My words got lodged in my throat, and for a second, I worried they might choke me.

  He lowered his head, dragging his nose along my jawline and down the cord of my neck. His breath whispered across my skin, making me shiver as he said, “I’m not sure who you’re fighting more, me or yourself.”

  “Dalton, you don’t understand—”

  His head came back up, his eyes shot fire. “Swear to Christ, Thumbelina, if you give me that bullshit about not deserving me or try to lie and tell me you don’t feel this thing between us, I’m gonna tie you to that fucki
n’ bed and prove how wrong you are until you’re begging me to never let you go.”

  Holy shit. That delicious threat turned my blood up from a simmer to a full rolling boil.

  “You are your own worst goddamn enemy, Charlotte. I don’t get how you don’t see that. Why can’t you just let yourself be happy?”

  Something about that question pushed me over the edge, and I snapped. “Because I don’t deserve it!” I shouted so loud it took us both by surprise. Placing my hands to his chest, I gave him a shove, a bit shocked when he actually allowed me to move him back. “Good things don’t happen to me, Dalton. There is no happy for me! My whole life has been a series of shitty choices. Being alone, the life I’m living now, that’s my punishment. It’s the penance I have to pay for all the bad choices I’ve made.”

  His expression gentled as he came back, lifting his hand and placing his palm on the side of my neck. “Baby,” he said so softly I felt that burn in the backs of my eyes. “That’s not true.”

  I couldn’t handle his touch, not when I felt so raw and exposed. I slipped away from the wall and moved across the room, putting distance between us. “It is, Dalton. I lost my parents when I was seven years old, and I haven’t had anything good since then.

  “It was one shitty foster home after another. I ran away from the last one when I was sixteen. Things hadn’t been good in the majority of them, but that last one was really not good, and I had to get the hell out of there. I’d started dating an older guy, not because I actually liked him, but because I knew he was my way out. What I didn’t know was that he had a mean streak that rivaled my last foster dad’s. He thought I owed him for taking me in, and if I didn’t do what he wanted when he wanted, he’d make his displeasure known by beating the living shit out of me.”

  Dalton’s jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth. His hands curled into fists at his side so tight his knuckles bleached white, but I was too far gone in my rant to notice how the energy in the room had electrified.

  “I had nowhere else to go, no one I could turn to, but at least he took no for an answer, unlike some of the other assholes I’d been stuck with, so I stayed. I let him hit me. I put up with it until I was able to squirrel away enough money for a bus ticket out of the state. I got myself settled, thought things were finally looking up, so I put myself out there again. The very first asshole I took a chance with stole every single dime I had. I had to pawn the locket that had belonged to my mother. It was all I had left of her, and I had to sell it, and that still wasn’t enough. I couldn’t afford my shitty little apartment anymore and was crashing at a women’s shelter where I met Malachi Black.”

  I wasn’t sure how it was even possible, but at that man’s name, Dalton’s entire body strung even tighter.

  “I thought he was my knight in shining armor, and look how that turned out,” I said with a self-deprecating laugh.

  “Charlotte—” he tried, taking two steps closer to me, but I wasn’t done yet. I needed to get this poison out, and I couldn’t do that if he was touching me.

  I moved back and kept going. “Don’t you get it? I’m broken, Dalton. I was used up a long time ago. The filth I associated with, that I went to bed with, left me so dirty, it rubs off on everything I touch. I’m not pushing you away because I don’t have feelings for you. I’m doing it to save you! Besides Micah, you’re the only good man I’ve had in my life since my dad died, and I don’t want my filth touching you.”

  I knew he was done giving me space when he moved across my apartment so fast I didn’t have the chance to get away from him. His hands came up to cradle my face between his palms. I didn’t realize I’d started crying until he brushed the dampness from my cheeks with his thumbs.

  He was staring into my eyes with an intensity so strong it made my knees weak. I had a fleeting thought of, God, I wish he’d kiss me. Then, as if reading my mind, his lips crashed down on mine.

  And just like that, I was lost.

  Chapter Eleven

  Charlotte

  Just like our one and only kiss, this one started out full of heat and passion. If his lips on mine and his tongue invading my mouth didn’t feel so damn incredible, how hard we went at each other might have felt like a punishment.

  But it was just too perfect.

  He tasted like mint and man. The best thing I’d ever tasted in my life. His beard abraded my skin in the most delicious way, and I found myself pressing up on my toes, my fingers curling in his overlong hair so I could get him even closer.

  His strong arms wrapped around my waist like steel bands, the unforgiving grip impossible for me to escape, not that I had any intention of doing that.

  My breasts swelled, my nipples pebbling, and I pressed harder against him, rubbing across his chest like a cat, searching for some kind of relief from the fire building in my body.

  On my needy whimper, his arms moved, one going up and yanking out the elastic I had holding my hair up so he could fist his fingers in the long strands, while the other traveled down, his large palm grabbing my ass and squeezing almost to the point of pain.

  I moaned, long and low into his mouth at the roughness of his touch. I loved that he didn’t treat me like I was made of glass. I was tough; I could take a razor-fine pinch of pain. In fact, I craved it when a man knew how to do it right. And Dalton was doing it oh so right.

  I was on the brink of asking for more, begging that he take me in every way, when he did the last thing I wanted him to do. Breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead against mine while sucking in ragged breaths, like he’d just run an entire marathon at a full sprint.

  My chest heaved as I tried to fill my lungs with air, but I couldn’t bring myself to loosen the vise-like grip I had on him. His arms squeezed me, almost hard enough to deflate my lungs as he struggled to get hold of himself. When he finally did, he lifted his head but didn’t let me go. I forced myself to untangle my fingers from his hair and dragged my palms down to rest on his chest, incapable of not touching him as we both came down from an indescribable high.

  “Why’d you stop?” I asked in a ragged, husky voice I barely recognized as my own.

  His quicksilver gaze lit up as he lifted his hand and dragged his thumb across my swollen bottom lip. His voice was as thick and sweet as melted honey as he said, “Because we need to talk.”

  With a sigh, I dropped my forehead to his chest while my shoulders slumped.

  “Don’t do that.” His fingers pressed beneath my chin, forcing my face back up so he could see my eyes. “Don’t shut down now.”

  “I’m not,” I whispered in a barely-there voice as heat crept across my skin, painting it a vivid pink. Twice in one day, I’d let my emotions get the best of me and given away much more of myself than I meant to. Twice today, the words had poured out of me, revealing things I’d wanted to keep hidden. But there was no putting them back in the box now that they were out. Even if I could, I was pretty sure Dalton wouldn’t let that happen.

  “I’m just . . .”

  “Just what?” he pushed when I trailed off.

  I took a big, fortifying inhale before admitting. “I’m embarrassed. I didn’t plan on saying any of that, but it just came out.” I gave my head a shake and looked down at the material of his shirt, picking at the cotton. I couldn’t help but appreciate its softness and how it stretched across the defined plains of his impressive chest and stomach.

  “Hey,” he called, gently drawing my attention back to his face, and when I looked up, the tenderness in his expression melted me. “Don’t ever be embarrassed around me,” he said in a firm, unrelenting voice. “Not ever. There isn’t anything you could do or say that would change how I feel about you, because I know the truth, even if you can’t see it yourself.”

  Standing in the arms of a man I’d started falling for months and months ago and still hadn’t hit the ground, I felt safer than I could remember feeling in my whole life. And that was terrifying.

  “What truth is that?” I couldn’t hel
p but ask.

  “That you’re the strongest, bravest, most incredible woman I’ve ever met.”

  I wanted to be able to let those words wash over me. I wanted to believe them. I just couldn’t.

  “Dalton,” I began to argue. When I tried to step away, his arms tightened, refusing to allow any space between us.

  “You aren’t dirty,” he insisted with so much passion I stopped struggling. “Not a goddamn thing about you is anything but good and pure and clean, baby. You got knocked down, you stood the fuck back up, dusted yourself off, and kept on goin’.”

  “But—”

  He silenced me by placing two fingers over my lips. Something sparked in his gaze just then that held me enraptured. I couldn’t have looked away if I wanted to as his features hardened to stone. “You nearly died trying to stop a piece of shit from hurting other people. As far as I’m concerned, that one act itself is enough to wipe the slate clean. You aren’t dirty, Charlotte, but even if you were, that would have washed away every bad decision you ever made. I’ve known a lot of people in my life. My job requires that I know how to read people, and I’m really fuckin’ good at it. And you are one of the best people I’ve ever known.”

  Those words got through. They penetrated the wall of negativity I’d kept myself isolated in for so long, but I still had one concern.

  “I’m not perfect, Dalton,” I said quietly. “As much as I love hearing everything you just said, I’m worried that because of how we met, the extreme circumstances of what I was doing, that maybe you see me through a filter that paints a prettier picture than what’s real.”

  He stared down at me in complete silence long enough to make me squirm with discomfort. Then, as I was about to ask him what he was thinking, he threw his head back and burst into laughter as he squeezed me tightly to him.