by Emma Hart
“She wouldn’t stop talking about her degree. If I knew she was in college, I wouldn’t have asked her out. She told me she was twenty-five. Turns out, she’s twenty-one.”
Ouch.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight. Why? Are you hitting on me?”
I laughed and touched his arm. “Do you want me to be?”
“Depends. Are you in college?” It was his turn to laugh.
“No. I definitely graduated, thank God. Why don’t you keep that card? Give me a call. You can come into my office for a free consultation, and I’ll personally match you with someone. How does that sound?”
He tilted his head to the side. He was definitely considering it.
“Come on,” I said, leaning in. “I’m giving you a consultation for free. What do you have to lose?”
Right then, the door opened, and when I glanced up, I saw his date stepping through the door.
“Think about it,” I said, picking up my glass and standing, slipping past him back to my table.
Dom glared at me as I sat down. “What was that?”
“It was effective flirting. I told you that you wouldn’t like it. It’s not my fault if you didn’t believe me.”
He slid onto the stool next to me. “Did you have to get so close to him?”
Was it bad I was enjoying this? All those years of seeing women flirt with him…
“Yes. That was the entire point. He took the business card when I accidentally pulled it out of my pocket.”
He grunted.
I pinched his cheek. “Aww. What? Was I right?”
He glared at me again, eyes dark and annoyed, and grabbed my stool. He pulled the stool toward him until our seats bumped, then cupped the back of my head and kissed me.
Hard.
“What was that?” I asked when he pulled back.
“I saw the way he looked at you, and I don’t like it,” he muttered.
“You don’t like it?” I couldn’t help the twitching of my lips.
“Why would I? You’re mine.”
I leaned back, raising my eyebrows. “I’m yours?”
He nodded. “You’re mine.”
“I’m not the last pair of shoes in your size in the store, Dominic.”
“What’s your point? You’d be mine even if you were.”
I folded my arms. “I’m not a possession.”
“Funny. Now that I think about it, you were pretty possessive when Ruby walked into the office.”
“Don’t you dare throw her back in my face.”
“You were so jealous. Do you remember that? You were all up in my business about how inappropriate she was and wondering if I found her on a street corner. Remember?” His eyes glittered as he said it, and that gave it away.
I knew what he was doing, and I wasn’t going to bite.
“I remember,” I said flatly, taking a sip of my wine. “She was so desperate the local wildlife could smell her.”
“You really hated her.”
Still did.
“I’m surprised you didn’t claw her eyes out.”
“Dom, your game is so obvious, the local Kindergarten has already rolled their dice and won. Quit it. I don’t care about her.” I met his eyes. “If you’re trying to bug me, it’s not working.”
“You sound bugged.”
“You sound like you want me to conclude that we’ll never work.”
“Yet, here you are, fighting with me.” He brought his beer to his lips. “Because you’re annoyed that I’m trying to make you jealous because you know you are.”
I took a big gulp of wine. “Stick your psychological bullshit up your ass, Dr. Phil.”
“You’re just proving my point.”
“I’m going to leave in a second.”
“I’ll follow you.”
“I’ll punch you,” I warned him. “I’ve done it before. I hit you with a wooden spoon, remember?”
He winced. “Yes, and it hurt. But you don’t have a spoon.”
“I have a purse.”
“Calm down, Grandma.”
“All right. I’m leaving.” I stood up, but he swept one arm around my waist and pulled me right back down.
“No, you’re not,” he said, holding me against his side. “Might I remind you that this was your idea? You’re the one who wanted to find single people on bad dates. He was the first guy we’ve found. You can’t be mad at me for getting jealous when he’s looking at you like you’re a piece of cake.”
“Please. He didn’t look at me like I was a piece of cake.”
“If he had a spoon, he’d have eaten you.”
“I’m a cheesecake. I’m too good to be normal cake. He’d need a fork for that.”
Dom turned his head and looked at me. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“You’re not supposed to. I’ve told you before—I have a superior wit. It’s my weapon. Taking people off-guard with my brilliance.”
“Brilliance? I think you’re full of shit.”
“I know. But you like my shit.” I paused. “I mean, my witty shit. Not my actual shit.”
“I’m so glad you clarified,” he said in a droll tone. “I couldn’t possibly figure out what the hell you meant.”
“I’m here to help.”
He tightened his grip on me, pulling me closer into him. We might have been sitting on backless stools, but he had such a solid grip on me, it barely felt like it. I was tucked almost perfectly against the curve of his side, and I rested my head on his shoulder.
It felt right.
Like I fit against his body perfectly. Like his arms were the perfect size and length to wrap around me and hold me against him. Like there was no other place I should have been.
No other place I was ever meant to be.
I tilted my face into him. “Dom?”
“Hmm?”
“Take me home.”
Chapter Nineteen – Dom
Not all love stories were perfect.
Some people snored.
Like Chloe.
Chloe dug her keys out of her purse and unlocked her front door. It swung open with one gentle push, and she stepped inside, clicking a switch and filling the hallway with light.
Her street was, otherwise, almost completely dark. There were no streetlights except at the very ends on the main roads, and since she lived in the middle, all she was illuminated by was the dim hall light and that of one porch light to the right of her door.
She turned, dropping her purse strap off her shoulder and down her arm until it rested in her hand. “Aren’t you coming in?”
I leaned against the pillar that held up the small balcony off her bedroom. “Do you want me to come in?”
“Do you want to?” She drew her lower lip between her teeth, and the apprehension in her eyes hit me.
She was nervous.
“I want to,” I said softly. “But I don’t have to.”
“I want you to.” She stepped back, opening the doorway for me. “I don’t have any pizza for you, though.”
“I think I’ll cope.” I followed her inside and shut the door behind me. She slipped against me, putting the key in the hole and twisting it. “Did you just lock me in?” I asked her.
“No. You’re free to leave at any time. All you have to do is twist the key.” She stepped away, hovering awkwardly. “Can I be honest?”
“I’d welcome that.”
She twisted her hands in front of her, dipping her head slightly so that her blonde curls covered her beautiful face. “I don’t…” She lifted her face to meet my eyes. “I didn’t invite you in to have sex.”
I didn’t say anything. I knew that.
“I had fun tonight. A lot of fun. And…we didn’t fight.”
“We bickered, Chlo.”
“We didn’t yell,” she corrected. “And, I don’t know. What happens if you stay, but we don’t have sex? Will that ruin anything?”
“Well, that depends.
Are you gonna make me watch Friends? Or can we both decide on a TV show to watch? Because, you know. I’ve seen enough of that show to last me a lifetime.”
“That depends, too. Are we naked in bed watching ice-cream?”
“As a rule, yes. Yes, we are.”
“We don’t have to watch Friends,” she said. “But I’m not watching a totally man-ish show, either. How about a movie?”
“A movie sounds good. What haven’t you seen?”
“The new Avengers.”
I paused. “You only want to watch that for Hemsworth.”
Chloe pulled a tub of ice-cream out of the freezer and shot me a look. “And you’ll watch it for Scarlett Johansson. What’s your point?”
I didn’t have one.
“Let’s watch that.” I grabbed two spoons from the drawer. “Upstairs?”
She nodded. “Let’s go. I can deal with this.” She ran up the stairs, a tub of ice-cream in hand, and I followed her. She was already getting undressed with her back to me by the time I made it into the bedroom, and I paused to watch her.
She was fucking beautiful. From her blonde curls to the bean-shaped birthmark on her lower back.
She paused. “Are you watching me?”
“No. I’m…looking out of the window.”
“So, I’m now transparent and square. Awesome.” She turned to me and put her hands on her hips. “Why are you still clothed?”
“I was busy looking out the window,” I said, putting the spoons on the bed. I pulled my shirt over my head and kicked off my shoes simultaneously. I didn’t miss the way she unabashedly stared at me as I undressed.
“Now who’s staring?”
“Shut up.” She reached over the bed, grabbing the spoons and climbed under the covers. It took her seconds to pull off the lid of the Ben and Jerry’s tub. She dug her spoon in before I’d even unzipped my pants, for the love of God.
“Thanks for waiting for me,” I muttered, kicking off my jeans and sitting on the bed next to her.
“Ice-cream waits for nobody,” she said, spoon in her mouth, and reached for the TV remote.
“Ice-cream, or you?” I questioned, pulling the covers over me.
“Ice-cream,” she said, looking at me. “It melts. Duh.”
She had me there.
“It’s hard to argue with that kind of logic.” I leaned over and stuck my spoon in the tub. Pushing down into the ice-cream, her grip loosened, and she let go of the tub.
“Hey!”
I took it and pulled a huge chunk out of the ice-cream.
She stared, slack-jawed, at the tub. “Why would you do that?”
“How else am I supposed to eat it?” I questioned, putting the spoon in my mouth.
“Slowly and gently.”
“It’s ice-cream. Not a kitten.”
“It’s the best ice-cream,” Chloe said, snatching the tub back. “You can’t just dive into Ben and Jerry’s like a savage. You have to treat it with respect.”
“Again,” I said slowly, “It’s ice-cream, not a kitten.”
She looked down at the tub then back up at me. “This might be a deal-breaker for me.”
“I think you’re insane.”
“Is that how you treat someone who saves you the last piece of pizza?”
I paused. “It is when they think ice-cream is something to be revered.”
“You’re getting real close to sleeping on the floor tonight, Dominic.”
“Is that so you can sleep with the ice-cream?”
She stared at me. “Yes. At least it won’t answer me back like you do. Or eat my last piece of pizza. In fact, I think I’ll be in a relationship with Ben and Jerry’s instead of you.”
I stopped.
She froze. Her eyes widened, and I swear she nearly choked on her own saliva. “I mean—not that we’re, you know. I didn’t…shit.”
I fought back a laugh. “I really want to jump in here, so you don’t dig yourself a deeper hole with that statement, but I want to see you talk your way out of it.”
She licked her lips. “I didn’t, um.” She pushed her hair away from her face and stared at the wall.
I took the tub of ice-cream and started eating. She was too traumatized by what she’d let slip—the big, scary ‘r’ word—to even notice that I was tearing chunks out of the tub.
“I can still see you being mean to my ice-cream,” she said in a small voice.
Maybe she did notice.
Three spoonfuls of ice-cream later, she finally turned back to look at me. “I didn’t mean to imply that we were in a relationship. Because, you know. We haven’t said that.”
“Well, that sucks, then,” I said and licked my spoon. “Because I just assumed we were starting one.”
“You assumed?”
“You agreed to go out with me.”
She shifted so her body was facing me. “I did not agree. I was coerced into it. There’s a difference.”
“So, this is the modern-day Beauty and the Beast, just without the kidnapping. Hey, wasn’t that your favorite movie as a kid?” I pointed the spoon at her.
“What does that have to do with this?”
“Nothing. It just came to mind. Was it?”
“Yes, but—”
“Now, you’re Belle. Coerced into dating me. You’re lucky I have a great sense of humor and an even better cock. And way less hairy than Beast.”
She blinked at me. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“You could agree.” I grinned.
“No. I don’t think you need the ego boost, in all honesty. And you’re taking this conversation off-track. Don’t think I’m going to let you get away with saying I agreed to date you.”
“All right, I won’t say it. But I will say that you happily invited me to your bed with ice-cream.”
“And I’ll tell everyone I promptly followed that up by considering kicking you out and replacing you with the ice-cream.”
“Most people would probably be more horrified that you threatened it and didn’t do it. I’d rather sleep with ice-cream than with me.” I shrugged a shoulder and pulled out another chunk of the chocolate treat.
She snatched the tub back. “Stop abusing my ice-cream, you savage.”
“Are you still in a relationship with it, or are you and I back on?”
“I never said we were on.”
“Your denial of everything makes me ridiculously happy.”
Chloe’s brows drew together in a frown. “Why does me refusing to admit to being in a relationship with you make you happy?”
“Because, when you eventually admit it, I’ll be right. And I’m pretty fond of being right.” I grinned. “So, you may as well just admit it now.”
“And make you right?”
“Get it over and done with. What? Are you gonna marry me and never admit to being a relationship with me?”
“Who said I was going to marry you?” Her voice was close to a shriek.
I put the ice-cream on the side and leaned back against the headboard. “Well, you’re getting a little close to thirty now, and time isn’t on your side.”
She stared at me incredulously. “If you’re trying to win me over, you’re not doing very well.”
Fuck. It was hard not to laugh. “I mean, your tits won’t be this perky forever. Are they as lively as they used to be?”
Her jaw dropped.
“And your ass won’t always be this free of cellulite. Never mind going gray. I mean, I’m willing to take all this on as a part of you, but—”
“Asshole!” She laughed, launching herself at me. She punched me in the arm and, laughing, I moved away from her and off the bed. She jumped off it, coming after me. I ran around the other side of the bed, holding out my hands.
“Careful. There’s still no life insurance policy. You don’t wanna beat me up too bad.”
Chloe narrowed her eyes. “I could kill you right now, but I do want to benefit from your death.”
�
��Which is why you’re an excellent businesswoman. Terrible girlfriend, but great at your job.”
“I’m not your girlfriend.”
“Chloe. We both know you’re my girlfriend. At least, you will be tomorrow morning after you’ve had my pancakes.”
She paused, dropping her fists. “You can make pancakes?”
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “It’s not hard.”
“Huh. I can never get those right,” she mused. “But I’m still not your girlfriend.”
“And your tits still aren’t getting any perkier.”
“Jerkface!” She jumped on the bed and, once again, threw herself at me.
This time, I was able to catch her.
I grabbed hold of her as she pummeled my shoulders with her fists.
“Put me down!” she shouted.
“No.” I spun and dropped onto the bed, bringing her with me. She shrieked, grabbing my shoulders instead of punching them.
I much preferred the grabbing. She had one hell of a right hand, even when she was punching me like a three-year-old.
“Why did you do that?” she demanded. She flattened her hands on the bed either side of my head and looked down at me. Her hair fell forward around her face, tickling me on the cheek.
“It made you stop hitting me, didn’t it?” I asked, eyebrow quirked.
“Can I carry on now?”
“No.”
“Will you let me go then?”
“No. Not until you admit that you’re my girlfriend.”
“You sound very high school,” she muttered.
I rolled us over so she was below me. I straddled her, grabbing her hands and pinning her to the bed so that she couldn’t wriggle away from me. “Admit it.”
“No.”
“We both know it’s going to happen.”
“Real cocky for a guy who has to pin me down and coerce me into dates.”
“I told you earlier. I’m fine with playing dirty.” I gave her a lopsided grin and leaned down, bringing my face closer to hers. “Plus, you and I both know you’re just being awkward. I know just how long you’ve been in love with me, Chloe Collins.”
“Do you, now? And how did you find that out?” She tilted her chin up.
“Peyton has a big mouth.”
“Gonna kill her,” she muttered.
I snorted, sliding my hands over hers and linking our fingers. “You’re gonna get one hell of a jail sentence.”
