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It wasn’t his fault that we were here.
Well…technically, yes, it was his fault. He’d broken Mathews’s leg on purpose. But it wasn’t his fault that I apparently couldn’t do my job for shit, and I sucked at pretending.
“This is good. The voice is clear. Sending it in now,” the agent said after our conversation was done.
“Nice work,” Tailsburry said, smiling at me for the first time since I’d met him. Which wasn’t long, but still. “We’re way more ahead than I thought we would be at this point. We’ve got descriptions, numbers, and a possible identification.” And he kept nodding at himself, like he was surprised at his own words.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling even worse, if it makes any sense. So, I could do my job, and I didn’t suck at pretending. Maybe the trouble was that I’d pretended so well, I’d actually fooled myself, too?
Not his fault. It wasn’t fair to be pissed off at Dominic now. It wasn’t his fault.
“Am I free to go now?” I asked. “I’m exhausted.” All that dancing—and my feet were still throbbing from the pumps.
“Of course. Get some rest,” Tailsburry said. “We’ll be here a little while longer, then we’ll leave you alone.”
Again, he smiled at me and actually stood up when I did.
“Night, everyone,” I mumbled, avoiding everybody’s eyes, which was very easy to do. They all mumbled their goodnights to me, and I closed the door to the bedroom.
I was alone, and I could finally breathe a bit easier.
Today’s dateon my journal was marked with pinks and reds and greys. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a black marker because this past hour was deserving of it.
I was wearing his shirt again, lying on my side of the comfortable bed. Somebody had changed the sheets because they smelled a bit sweeter than they did the night before, though they were the same fabric and the same golden color. I pulled the blanket closer and hugged it to my chest. Mom said I’d kept a blanket she’d knitted for me with a yellow duck in the middle until I was three years old. I didn’t remember it, but she said I refused to leave the house or do anything without it. It had probably given me comfort back then. I wished this blanket would do the same now. It didn’t.
I heard the doors closing when the crew left. I heard Dominic’s footsteps, too. My eyes were already closed, and I focused on my breathing, hoping he’d believe that I really was asleep.
He stepped into the room almost completely silently. He stopped by his side of the bed for only a moment before he moved to the bathroom and locked the door behind him.
I heard the water pouring from the shower, and my mind kept insisting I imagine what he’d look like. Just like he had when he’d walked out that morning, drops of water hanging on his naked skin.
Within seconds, I was completely wet. And I’d just showered myself. Not fair. Why did I have to be attracted to this man? Why couldn’t someone else—anyone else—make me feel like I might explode with a single touch? Why did it have to be him?!
But no matter how many times I asked myself that same question, whispering it under my breath, I found no answer.
Eventually, Dominic walked out of the bathroom. My eyes were still closed, but I was having trouble breathing. He wouldn’t notice. He was probably exhausted himself. He wouldn’t care.
His weight shook the bed when he lay down, and the coconut scent of the hotel shampoo filled me from head to toe.
Just pretend it’s coming from your own hair. And it was—my hair was still a bit wet. It did smell like coconut, but coming from him, the scent was slightly different. His own scent gave it a unique spin.
For a while, he was perfectly silent, his breathing even, his heat blocked by the blanket falling between us. I almost thought he’d fallen asleep.
He hadn’t.
“You did well today,” he said, and my heart rushed to get out of my chest.
Stupid heart.
“I just did my job, Dominic. I don’t need a pat on the back for it,” I said, way too bitterly. But no matter how many times I told myself that it wasn’t his fault, I couldn’t really control my voice. I couldn’t control anything when it came to him.
“I’m just saying you did a good job, unlike me. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have half the details you remembered.”
The words turned over in my head but still made no sense. Was he teasing me?
I turned to the side just a bit, so I could see his face. I saw much more than that. He still wore that same shirt, but he had one arm propped under his head, and all the muscles he owned came into perfect view around his biceps. His wet hair looked pitch-black, his skin looked clean and soft. So ready to be touched. Ugh.
“Why?”
