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“Yes, angel. Even though I always use condoms, I make a point of getting tested regularly. I’m clean, and I don’t doubt that you are.”
“I am, and I have an IUD.” She takes another sip of her wine. When she says the last part, she glances away from me, and I swear I see something close to shame passing over her features before she looks at me again. “So, no other men for me and no other women for you. What else?”
“I want you in my bed every night. We’ll have to spend all day long pretending like nothing has changed between us when everything has, and while I understand your reasoning, I know the only way I can live through it is if I know you’ll be coming home to me when the day is over.”
Home to me. Let her continue to think this is temporary after spending every night sleeping in my arms.
Sloane bites her lip, and those worried little creases are back in her forehead. I search her eyes, hoping to find the source of the uncertainty flickering in their golden depths, but come up empty. Honestly, I didn’t expect this to be an issue. She didn’t complain about sharing a bed with me last night, so I don’t get her hesitation.
“I can’t do that.”
“Why? I seem to remember cuddling being one of the things on your list of desired physical activities, and it certainly would help improve your quality of sleep, which I’ve read can be an issue for people who suffer from touch starvation.”
Her brows lift in surprise. “You researched touch starvation?”
“I promised I would help you. I can’t do that if I don’t have all the facts available to me. Now tell me why we can’t spend every night together.”
“I don’t have a problem with us spending every night together. I just can’t stay at your place because it’ll feel weird to be there with you after the nights I spent there with Eric when you two lived together.” She sighs, her brows furrowing together as she fiddles with her wedding band. “I know that must sound ridiculous, but I just can’t be there without thinking about him.”
Of course. Eric spent a year in the second bedroom of my place—which I turned into an office a few years back—because Mama forbid him from living with Sloane before they got married. It was a pointless declaration since they alternated between the loft Eric and I shared and the townhouse Sloane shared with Mal.
Mostly though, they were at our place. Laughing on the couch. Play fighting in the kitchen. Quietly making love when they thought I was asleep, he only indication they were doing anything at all being the light tapping of the headboard against the wall.
Thankfully, time and the structural changes I made when I took out a mortgage on the place, have helped me forget all about the months I spent avoiding my own home just to get away from them. Still, I should have thought about what it would mean for me to demand that she spend every night in my bed. It was an oversight on my part, and it won’t happen again.
“No. You don’t sound ridiculous, angel. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or worried when you’re in my arms at night, but where do you suggest we sleep? Because waking up next to you isn’t up for discussion.”
She smirks. “That’s usually what it means when you say something is a rule, Dominic.”
“Are we back to Dominic now?”
“We never left it.”
I can’t help but smile. She’s so beautiful and stubborn as hell. How she can insist on being so formal when I’ve had my fingers inside of her on multiple occasions is beyond me, but I won’t press. As much as I’d love to hear her use a nickname for me—one that reflects the intimate relationship we now have and reminds me of our night together—I know it’s not important in the grand scheme of things. She’s agreed to every single one of my rules with no argument, so I can give her this one concession. Even if she doesn’t understand what it means for me to do so.
“If you say so.” I shrug, taking a final bite of my potatoes before pushing my plate out of the way. “Would you feel more comfortable sleeping at your place?”
“Yes, unless you think Sebastian Adler wants to put us up in the penthouse for the next two months,” she jokes. “Though I’m pretty sure giving you this place for the night means you owe him one now.”
An amused huff passes my lips. “Seb owes me more than one favor, angel, and I’d happily cash them all in for you. But, I don’t think you want that. You want this new thing to happen somewhere you feel safe and secure, and that’s what we’re going to do, but tell me one thing.”
The corners of her mouth tip up in a soft smile, and the urge to kiss her is like a kick to the gut. I love seeing her happy. Love being the one who made her that way. Her shoulders are relaxed, her cheeks are that perfect rosy color that indicates the presence of alcohol in her system. She’s beautiful. The most incredible woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of sharing a meal with. The living, breathing embodiment of all of my wildest dreams, and she’s mine.
“What do you want to know?”
“What happens when Mal shows up unexpectedly and my car is in your driveway?”
She worries the plump flesh of her bottom lip between her teeth briefly. “You can park in my garage. No one ever goes in there, and I’ll tell Mal to make a habit of calling before she pops up or I’m going to take my key back.”
Of course, she let the nosiest person on Earth have a key to her house so she would be free to come and go as she pleases. Never in a million years would I give that woman the ability to pop up on me without a moment’s notice, but Sloane and Mal are like sisters. They don’t think twice about being in each other’s space all the time. It’s a small miracle Mal knocked on the door this morning instead of barging in like she owned the place.
“Sounds like you thought this through.”How to hide us. How to end this. How to make it out of this clean when I know there’s no way in hell that’s going to happen for me.
“I have.” She tips back the rest of her wine. “Now, are you going to fight me on this or are you going to take me home and let me thank you for this amazing dinner?”
My mouth goes dry as the image of Sloane on her knees in front of me with her pretty lips wrapped around my dick bombards me.
“Almost, angel.”
