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“You’re right, but I think there’s a difference between me and James.”
The air between us is thick, and it’s a struggle to pull in a full breath. “And what would that be?”
“I’m your friend.”
Any other day I’d be laughing at the declaration. The idea of being friends with Dominic has always felt impossible to me, and it feels infinitely more impossible now that his heated gaze is telling me the word ‘friend’ might mean something different to him than it does to me.
“You are?” I sound desperate and needy. Like the one thing I want more than anything in this world is for this man to say we’re friends.
“Yes.” He nods slowly. “Now ask me why that makes what I did to you on Sunday different from the clumsy lip attack James subjected you to on Friday.”
What I did to you…Those words, combined with the finality of his command, send waves of desire coursing through my veins and straight to my clit. I shuffle on my feet as I feel the evidence of my arousal pooling in my core. God, I need to get away from this man.
I press my lips together. There’s no way in hell I’m going to obey his order. It doesn’t matter if my brain is screaming at me to do exactly that. Dominic’s eyes glow with triumph like even my resistance satisfies him.
“Go on, angel. You know you want to know.”
The use of his new, but somehow familiar, nickname makes my toes curl.
“Just tell me, Dominic.” I blow out an unsteady breath.
He chuckles darkly. “Well, I think you know that at its most basic level friendship is about taking care of one another, and that’s what I did on Sunday. I took care of you.”
A shiver runs down my spine at the double entendre. “You wiped icing off of my face. Let’s not make it sound like you saved me from a burning building or something.” Or like you gave me back-to-back mind-blowing orgasms with your wicked mouth because that only happened in my dreams.
“I saved you from the embarrassment of walking around with icing on your face.” His grin is wolfish. “I think that falls quite comfortably in the ‘taking care of a friend’ column.”
I shake my head. “Stop saying it like that. You make it sound—”
“What? Tell me how I make it sound, Sloane.” His words are playful, but his tone is the exact opposite. It’s rough, husky, sinful to match the wicked curve of his lips.
“You know what it sounds like, Dominic.”
“I do.” He reaches up, brushing the same thumb that was just skating across his lower over mine. “I just want to hear you say it.”
I glare at him. “Dirty. It sounds dirty.”
His other hand comes up and now he’s cradling my face, hungry eyes steady on my mouth. My lips are tingling, and I know my skin is flushed. I can feel the heat creeping into my cheeks, burning up underneath the rough skin of his palms.
“Is that a problem for you, angel?”
“Yes.” No.
“Why?” He licks his lips, and the quick swipe of his tongue sends my mind into a free fall. Vivid images of all the obscene things he could do to me with that tongue bombard me, and another warm rush of arousal slips down my spine.
“We’re not like that, Dominic. We can’t be like that.” Can we? Please say we can.
He takes another step forward and steals every bit of air from my lungs when his erection presses into my stomach. And oh, my God, the feel of him. Hot and hard, against me has me biting my lip to stifle the moan clawing up my throat. My eyes fall closed on their own accord, but I can still feel his gaze on me.
“Stop biting your lip and look at me, Sloane.”
But I can’t do it. I can’t look at him. He releases my face, and his hands glide down my neck, coasting over my shoulders and arms. It’s like he can’t stop touching me, and nothing in me wants him to. His fingers feel exactly how I imagined: rough from years of physical labor and hot enough to brand me.
“You’ve thought about what it would feel like for me to touch you?”
Fuck, I said that out loud?
My eyes pop open, and my reward for the delayed response to his command is diving headfirst into two liquid pools of pure desire and need. A look so raw and carnal I want to look away again because if I don’t, I’m going to explode right here in James’ unfinished bathroom. I start to turn my head, but his hand comes up and catches my chin between two long fingers—forcing me to look at him, to bear witness to the unexpected desire pouring off of him.
