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And let’s not forget my morally gray, insanely hot and super annoying neighbor.
I shouldn’t have had sex with my fake boyfriend. Despite the gravity of my family situation, my mind keeps returning to the feelings he sparks in me.
It wasn’t just the mind-blowing orgasms and his talented tongue and cock, it was… Well, I don’t know, but while he was ordering me around and manhandling me, I felt safe, cherished, protected, and so fucking good, all over. I was able to relax, to let go, to forget everything else.
Dominic Cressard ruined sex for me, because I’ve experienced a lot in that area and I still didn’t know there was another level. I don’t know if it’s his skills—and clearly he’s honed them over the years, and I don’t want to think how and with whom—or just some special chemistry between us. If it’s the latter, I’m screwed.
As much as I want to fight it, last night I got a taste of Dominic, and I’m not willing to let go. I fought it and attempted to run, but I can’t kid myself. I need another dose. And, selfishly, I need an escape from my current life.
I just wish I knew what he was thinking. Is he considering this a fling to pass the time? An added benefit to his role as my fake boyfriend?
I need to understand his motivations, so I can protect myself, but I can’t imagine asking him. How can I handle it without dealing with his over-inflated ego?
Leaving the book on Maddie’s nightstand, I walk out. The hallway has a strange energy. It’s too silent, no one in sight. This place is usually quiet.
While the versions of the silence are different—afternoon lull, morning calm, painful stillness after we lose someone—I know them all. But this is different. Today is Saturday, when we get the most family visits. It shouldn’t be this quiet.
I walk to the other side where I left Dominic, and as I reach the open door of Ralph’s room, I hear a murmur.
Several people stand around, chatting. And waiting? For what? I step inside with care, as if expecting a land mine.
Dominic is scribbling something on a legal pad, listening to a woman.
“What’s going on?” I whisper. None of these people are residents because most of those are bed-ridden. I recognize a few family members.
“Dominic is helping us,” says a young man beside me.
“For free.” An elderly lady beams at me.
I move to stand beside him. He is focused on the woman in front of him fully but gives me a mischievous glance. The gesture clamps at my lungs.
“I thought you were playing chess.” I fail to sound irritated while ignoring the wings tickling my insides.
He reaches to squeeze my hand. “Chillax, Chils, two more people and we can leave if you’re ready.”
“I didn’t want to play chess anyway,” Ralph says, without raising his eyes from a phone.
I step aside and watch the scene. Somehow, the bastard started an impromptu legal clinic in the last hour. And based on the grins and adoring looks, a successful one. I sit on the edge of Ralph’s bed and wait.
I could talk to Zelda or visit other residents, but I’m somewhat fascinated by all of this. Dominic keeps taking notes, squinting occasionally. I wonder if he needs glasses and is too vain to wear them.
When he puts the pen down, he takes the woman’s hands into his large ones. The memory of his touch last night swirls around my stomach, spreading a yearning ache.
He murmurs something before flashing a blinding smile. The woman giggles and practically bows before she relinquishes her seat to the next victim.
His rapport with these people spreads sweet, warm liquid through me, and I find myself smiling. It annoys me, because there is nothing happy about these people’s situations. And because I don’t want to feel warm and fuzzy around Dominic. I don’t do warm and fuzzy.
And yet, today the usual irritation and anger that propel me forward took a day off. It must be the lack of sleep.
By the time Dominic is done, we’re leaving the place like a pair of celebrities, practically applauded by family and staff members. I resent and love the attention he’s getting.
“Are you giving unsolicited legal advice to unsuspecting victims? You really are looking to secure that spot in purgatory.”
“Don’t be jealous, Chils, this is still your baby and endeavor. It was Ralph who didn’t want to play chess.” He puts his hand on the small of my back, leading me to the car.
We don’t need to pretend here. I don’t need someone to protect me on the streets of New York. Yet the gesture thrills me.
I suck in my breath, burying half of my face in my scarf to hide it. “Why was Ralph on your phone?”
