She knew it would destroy her. She also knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she could stay away from him at this point. It was likely just the beginning of another lap around the heartbreak track.
She let out an audible sigh that Nan noticed but didn’t comment on. She was grateful.
She knew she was going to move forward and let this burning energy between them finally find its climax, but she needed to do it with a clear head, an understanding that he would eventually move on.
Dominic Adams wouldn’t be any more hers than he had been two weeks ago.
She wished that didn’t hurt quite as much as it did.
Chapter 16
Dominic
Getting through Friday night without slipping inside Lula or even just kissing her, for that matter, brought Dom to a new low.
For the first half of the night he lay on the couch watching football and drinking beer. He never watched football. He was a baseball fan first and foremost. But for the life of him, he couldn’t find the willpower to do anything other than mope.
He had tried, oh had he tried to get Lula to go to dinner with him but she wanted to spend the night with her grandmother. He understood it, but it didn’t stop him from feeling petulant about it. It was the “Maybe tomorrow,” she sent that had put him in such a foul mood.
As if he would just wait around for her.
He would, but she didn’t need to know that.
Still feeling bizarrely irritated about it hours later, he avoided texting her as long as possible. That lasted until about nine, when he figured she might at least think he had something other to do than lay around and text her.
He agonized far too long about what to write.
DOM: Hey you, how’s your night going?
He cringed at the high-school sounding text but was profoundly pleased when she texted back so quickly. Almost as if she had been waiting for him.
LULA: Ugh. More John Wayne. I should have known better. How’s your night?
He looked around the living room at the scattered beer cans, spilled popcorn, and half-read War & Peace and decided it was better if she didn’t know the exact details.
DOM: Would have been much better if you had gone to dinner with me.
LULA: Don’t remind me. Do you know how many times I’ve seen True Grit?
He laughed. Served her right.
DOM: Do tell.
LULA: At least 50, I have every word memorized.
He imagined being snuggled up with her while they watched it, his arms encircling her, the scent of her hair ... Shit. He cleared his throat as if he was having a real conversation.
DOM: Why so many times?
LULA: Nan has a thing for John Wayne.
DOM: Well he is a gorgeous son of a bitch.
LULA: LOL. You’re not wrong depending on the movie. True Grit is not one of those movies.
He chuckled and then chastised himself for how much a simple conversation with her improved his evening. He hovered his thumbs above the keyboard as he tried to decide how to ask her out again.
DOM: So, does this mean you are willing to trade in John Wayne for me tomorrow night?
LULA: YES PLEASE!
He laughed.
DOM: I’m no Duke.
LULA: Got that right.
Dom waited to reply, not sure what to say. This never happened. Words were a gift to him. They had gotten him into so very many panties.
She replied before his thoughts got too carried away.
LULA: For one, you’re alive ...
He laughed out loud.
LULA: And two, you’re much hotter.
He would have chest-bumped himself if it were possible. He typed back quickly.
DOM: Damn straight. I’ll pick you up at 7:00.
LULA: I’m looking forward to it.
DOM: I think they’re showing some John Wayne flicks at the old downtown theater.
LULA: No fucking way, see you Monday.
God, why was it so fun to goad her?
DOM: I’ll pick you up at 7 for an entirely John Wayne-free evening.
LULA: Thank God.
He smiled and tried to ignore how quickly his heart was beating.
DOM: Goodnight, Lu.
LULA: Goodnight, Dom.
Finally, he thought as he set his phone down and settled back into the sofa, still grinning like an idiot. Tomorrow night, he would have her all to himself.
He would take her to Sullivan’s, with rooftop views of Chicago, and then very hopefully, he would end the night buried in her, her hair spread all around them. He growled in anticipation.
If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was treating a lady to an amazing date, and he was going to make Lula’s night a special one. He made online reservations, arranged for flowers, and then had a sudden burst of energy.
Knowing he might get the opportunity to sink his cock in Lula the next night was like an injection of straight caffeine and he got to work going through the Menotti box. Three hours later he had everything sorted, cataloged, and stacked in order of importance before he crashed face-first onto his bed. He fell asleep with visions of Lula in her black dress with the lights of Chicago glittering behind her.
Lula
Lula spent the morning and afternoon with her grandmother but could barely keep her focus on anything. She was going on a date, a second date with Dominic Adams. If she hadn’t had the text messages to prove it, she wouldn’t have believed it herself. Dominic Adams.
Nan noticed her giddiness and made her promise to introduce him. She agreed but only because she didn’t know how to explain to her grandmother that this might not last long enough for that.
It didn’t matter; she was too excited to let that ruin her night. Tonight she would be the girl she always wanted to be. Sexy. Fun. Tempting.
And even though she hated to lean on Amy again, she desperately needed her for fashion advice. Her rainbow collection of obnoxious sweaters and sad mix-and-match skirts were not going to cut it.
Her black satin dress was the only sexy thing she owned, and while she had entertained many fantasies of Dominic peeling that off of her, it was too out of character for her to relax in.
All she had to do was send an S.O.S. text to Amy and she was on her doorstep with an armful of beautiful dresses before she could even blink. They oohed and aahed over them, but as Amy was a full five inches shorter than Lula, most of them didn’t quite cut it in the length department.
“Amy,” she said, giving her friend a look, “I don’t want all of Chicago to see my vag.”
She was currently wearing the shortest electric blue dress she had ever seen. It was swoon-worthy, beautiful against her skin, but a full three inches short of respectable.
Amy gave her a pert look. “Then keep your legs together.”
She laughed and threw a hanger at her. “Ames, I wouldn’t wear this if I was a stripper. It’s beautiful, but it’s just not decent.”
“I think Dom would love it,” she answered with a wiggle of her brow. “Easy access.”
Lula flushed at the thought of his strong hands slipping up under her skirt. “Amy.”
“All right.” She pouted and took the dress when Lula shimmied out of it. “I just love that color on you so much.” She took another dress off a hanger and handed it to her. “Here, try this one.”
It was made of a deep red, slinky, delicious fabric that felt like water in her hands. “Ooh,” she breathed, loving just the feel of the fabric.
“I knew you’d like that one,” Amy announced proudly. “I even brought a matching lipstick so you have no excuse not to paint those gorgeous lips.”
Buzzing with excitement, Lula pulled the dress over her head and sighed as the fabric fell into place. It was like a kiss.
It dangerously hugged every single one of her curves and two tiny little black velvet straps held it up on her shoulders. This, this, this. “Oh my God,” she said, looking at herself in the mirror from every angle. She even loved he
r ass in it and that was saying something.
“Oh my God is right,” Amy breathed, ogling her with her mouth open. “How come that dress never looked that good on me? It’s not fair.”
“So you think this will work?”
Amy blinked at her. “For what? Insta-hard-ons? Yeah, it’ll work.”
Lula laughed and admired herself again. She certainly hoped so.
By the time seven rolled around, Amy had wrangled Lula’s beastly head of hair into luscious curls that spilled over her shoulders and down her back and applied her make-up with a skilled hand. Though she looked amazing, it didn’t seem fair that she hadn’t come equipped with the ability to do this herself.
After she promised Amy ten times that she would update her, she left, and Lula waited breathless, trying not to move lest she ruin the perfect smoky eyes and red lips she had no hand in creating.
Worries started to cloud her mind. Would Dom even notice? Had she gone too far? Was she trying too hard?
A text from Amy rolled through about five minutes after she left.
AMY: Stop overthinking. You look gorgeous. Have fun and be safe.
She smiled. Amy knew her almost as well as Nan.
Still, nerves rolled through her stomach as she thought about what was coming. About the heartache that was knowingly walking headfirst into.
She was semi-resigned to that eventuality, but she was also determined to make Dominic Adams absolutely crazy for her in the meantime. This power she had over him right now was heady and addictive, and she wanted to ride it as long and hard as she could.
Chapter 17
Dominic
Dom pulled up outside Lula’s little house at exactly seven. He would have been there early but he forced himself to drive around the block a few times so he didn’t seem as desperate to see her as he felt.
He was officially ridiculous, but he didn’t care.
He had donned his game-day date clothes: finely-tailored charcoal grey pants, a crisp white shirt, and a tie. They were his go-to, his panty-droppers, his deal-sealers.
He hoped tonight would be no different. He was prepared for every scenario, prepared to be mildly to highly aroused all through dinner, prepared to make her gag for it by the end of the night, prepared to go home alone if that was the way it worked out.
What he was abso-fucking-lutley NOT prepared for was that. Fucking. Dress.
His jaw literally fell open when she answered the door in a skin-tight red dress that barely held up the most succulent breasts he had ever seen. Those poor straps, they were not going to last long under that kind of pressure.
And her hair, Jesus, she had silky dark locks flowing everywhere. Images of it spread out on a white pillow, his fists buried within made him hard instantly. Suddenly he couldn’t even form words.
Finally he choked out, “Jesus, Lula. Are you trying to kill me?”
She grinned cutely and pulled the door closed. “I had hoped to.”
He put his hands up. “Done. I’m dead. Will you call my mother? She’ll want to know.”
She laughed and that dimple appeared. It made his stomach pull. Locking the door, she turned back to him appreciatively. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Adams.”
He stepped closer to her and touched her face. “But I’m the only one enduring cardiac arrest. I mean it, Tallulah Stanley, you are drop-dead gorgeous.”
“I’d better be.” She tucked her tiny black clutch under her arm. “It took two hours and extra help.”
He laughed and held out his arm. “It was well worth it. My Lady, our reservation awaits.”
She took his arm with the biggest smile he had ever seen and it tugged somewhere on his heart. He had to make tonight absolutely perfect if he even wanted a chance to go home with her. He was focused. He was desperate.
Luckily his mother had raised him to be a gentleman so he knew all the right moves. It also helped that he very much wanted to treat her right. He opened her car door for her, made sure she was buckled in, and played Ella on the way to the restaurant.
He asked about Nan’s health and they laughed about John Wayne. It was altogether enjoyable. Unlike every other date he had been on, it didn’t seem like he had to try to make conversation. It came easy with Lula, everything did. He felt like himself, comfortable, and she made him laugh like no other woman he had ever met.
“No way ...” she breathed, eyes wide, when he pulled up to the valet at Sullivan’s. “I’ve never been here. I’ve always wanted to though.”
He smiled, ridiculously pleased to have been the first to take her. “I’m glad I get to be your first time,” he said playfully.
She flushed beautifully and gave him a bright smile. “Me too.” She leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek. “Thank you, this is wonderful.”
He wanted to take her face in his hands and kiss her until she couldn’t think straight, instead, he gently ran his thumb across her cheek and told her, “It’s my pleasure.” He opened his car door a crack. “Now you stay put, I’ll be right there.”
He jogged around the car as she watched him, clearly amused, and when he opened her car door and her stunning legs unfolded gracefully from the car, he gaped. They were long and lean and topped off with strappy heels that screamed “fuck me” at full volume. Christ almighty, how was he going to make it through dinner without doing exactly what they asked?
“Why, Mr. Adams,” Lula breathed, wrapping her arm through his and pulling him close, “were you just staring at my legs?”
He swallowed and gave a helpless shrug. “You have killer legs, Lu; you bet I was staring.”
Her eyes flashed dangerously as she leaned in and whispered, “Imagine how they’ll feel around your waist.” Her voice came out husky and dark and went straight to his cock.
“Or my neck,” he growled, pulling her even closer as they walked into the building.
She sucked in a breath and licked her lips. “That works too.”
Fuck. He stopped their forward progress and looked around. How did he get her out of here now?
“Oh, no you don’t,” she said playfully, “I’m not missing my chance to eat here.”
Grumbling playfully, he led her inside and had to stuff his hands in his pocket to keep from molesting her in the elevator. Had there not been two other couples there too, he would have had his hands all over her. As it was, he had to keep from punching the clearly bored husband that kept looking down Lula’s dress.
Keep it together, Dom, he kept telling himself. Don’t ruin the night with a jealous right hook to a jaw.
He took a steadying breath and reminded himself that it would be worth the wait to finally be buried to the hilt in Lula, his name on her lips, his hands in her hair.
He changed his mind when she slid her delicate fingers possessively around his arm and smiled up at him.
She was worth the wait.
Lula
Lula gasped when they entered the top-floor restaurant. Everywhere she looked, the city of Chicago glinted at her. Soft jazz music played through the speakers and the décor was modern and warm at the same time. Incredible.
Sullivan’s was a place she had never dreamt she would have the opportunity to go. It was for the elite, the moneyed. Not a literature teacher with a small house and ten-year-old car.
And she was there with Dominic Adams on her arm, no less. And fuck if he didn’t look sinfully delicious in those pants and masterfully tailored white shirt. She had a hard time keeping her hands to herself and her mind out of the gutter.
As they walked through the restaurant, she could feel people watching them. It gave her a thrill of pleasure, which made her grip Dom’s arm a little harder. Yeah, he’s here with me, she wanted to shout. Little, boring Lula Stanley. Bet you didn’t see that coming.
“Everybody is looking at you, Lu,” he whispered in her ear.
She shivered from the sensation and shook her head. He was clearly unaware that everyone was looking at him. No one ever look
ed at her.
“Your table,” the waiter said, presenting their seats with a practiced flourish of his hand before pulling Lula’s seat out for her.
She gasped. Holy shit. Dom had reserved a table at the corner with nearly 360-degree views of Chicago. There was a bouquet of deep red roses in the center. “Dom,” she breathed as she settled into her chair, “this is too much. This is ...”
He grinned as he sat down. “Lula, you deserve the best, all the time. Don’t forget that.”
She blushed and fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth. She didn’t know what to look at first. The city? The roses? The handsome man that was somehow here with her? Her heart was skittering noisily in her chest.
“Thank you,” she said, embarrassed that she was a little overcome, “it’s so beautiful.”
He smiled as he unfolded his napkin. “It’s all right, I guess,” he said, looking around as if he wasn’t all that impressed. “But the real beauty here is you.”
Her skittering heart stuttered to a stop and her stomach tugged. It was a feeling she knew well. She knew she was falling. Falling fast for Mr. Dominic Adams. “It’s like you always know what to say to make me blush.”
“Well I am a writer,” he said with a mischievous grin.
“Never date a writer,” she said. “I’ve heard that a thousand times. They’re too dangerous, too skilled at removing panties with their words. Sound about right?” she challenged.
He laughed and then lowered his voice. “I also use my teeth.”
She squeezed her knees together and flushed. She was already wet for him and they had been at the restaurant for less than ten minutes. There was no way her poor panties were surviving the evening.
She was rescued from responding by the waiter and she tried to calm her body as Dom picked out a bottle of wine she had never heard of.
“It’s delicious, I promise,” he assured her.
As if she knew anything about wines over twenty bucks. Ten, really. “I’m excited to try it.”
They fell into an easy conversation about school and War and Peace over wine. During dinner he told her about his brothers and she told him stories about her mother.
At Last Page 11
