Before I can quip back, he comes forward, leaning his body close, forcing me against my car. For a moment I think he’s going to kiss me, but at the last second turns his head to whisper in my ear.
“You’re so jealous.”
The dusting of his breath caresses the shell of my ear. I swallow hard. If I wasn’t resting against my car, my knees would’ve given out by now.
How does he still have so much power over me? I’m turning to putty in his hands and he’s barely touched me.
It would be so easy to give in to this overwhelming want for him—a want that just won’t die. I’ve starved it, smothered it, neglected it, yet it still breathes. In his presence, it blooms as brightly as the wildflower at my feet, tangling with the weeds but refusing to let them win. So resilient, it makes you wonder how it survives.
But then I remember how quickly I withered without him. And just like that, reality comes crashing down.
Sidestepping, I put some needed space between us. “I’m not going to admit to something that isn’t true. And let’s not pretend like we both haven’t seen other people. I highly doubt you’ve been celibate all these years.” I square my shoulders, false confidence surging through me. “I know I haven’t.”
His smile falls in an instant. My words hit the nerve I was aiming for, but it doesn’t feel as satisfying as I thought it would.
He clears his throat and takes a measured step back, straightening his stance. “So, that’s what we’re going to do? Petty jabs? I’m aware time didn’t stand still.”
The hurt in his eyes is unmistakable—hurt I caused on purpose. Further proof I’m exactly the monster I always knew I was.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
He nods, looking like he wants to say more but doesn’t.
Coming here was a mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking. “I’m leaving.”
He reaches out, stopping me, his fingers wrapping gently around my wrist. His thumb brushes over the soft skin on the inside, sending a shuddering warmth through me. Slowly, he turns my hand palm-up, revealing something I usually keep hidden beneath a stack of bracelets. But not today.
“You kept it,” he murmurs low, almost reverent.
“Kind of hard to get rid of something permanent,” I reply just as softly, not sure why we’re whispering.
It’s been there so long, I barely think about it anymore. The delicate cursive letters etched into the inside of my wrist spell out one name:Dominic.
Still holding my wrist in his right hand, he lifts his left arm and turns it, revealing the matching tattoo inked on his skin. The script is identical, but his readsElyse.
“Why did you keep it?” he asks.
I yank my arm away, pushing the sleeve of my shirt down to cover it.
“I really should go.” My voice wavers as I turn toward my car, my fight or flight instincts battling for control.
“Ellie. Why. Did. You. Keep. It.”
Each word lands like the steady pounding of a drum as he inches closer until his chest is brushing my back, his heat penetrating through the thin barrier of my top.
I should move. Say something.
But I don’t.
Because all I really want to do is give into him, let the weight of whatever this is—whatever it’s always been—consume me.
My fingers twitch at my sides, nails digging into my palms. “It doesn’t matter.”
His breath hitches, a beat of silence stretching between us before he exhales. “It matters to me.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “That’s the problem.”
“Have dinner with me,” he says quietly.
