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“Why would I want to go to an open house with you?”
He grabbed a spatula from one of the drawers, and I wondered how he knew where we kept the spatulas when I didn’t. He poked at the pan. “Because you’re not sure you want to be a teacher anymore. There will be people from all different backgrounds and careers coming to that open house tomorrow.” He covered the eggs and turned to face me. “It always helps to have another friendly face there to schmooze potential buyers, and as much as it hurts to admit, you’re pretty damn personable. People will like you.” He crossed his arms. “So, you come with me and talk to the people who walk through, represent my agency well. Ask them about themselves, what they do, if they like it. It might give you some insight to an alternative career path you haven’t considered before.”
I opened my mouth to say no, but my mind (for once) stopped itself, becausedammit, I think he might have a point. Yet, my mouth couldn’t say yes, either. So, I stood there, gaping at him. He flicked his eyebrow at me before turning back to the stove. “You just want me to come with you to… talk to people? There is actually a benefit for you in me doing that?”
Without turning back to me, he shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, I won’t lie, I’m a damn good salesman. I’m more than capable of selling houses on my own. But, it always helps to work as a team. You may connect with people I don’t connect with. You could be the variable to sway someone into wanting to work with my agency in the future. Your presence alone will undoubtedly make the house more attractive.”
I snorted. “How does that work?”
He was silent for a moment before he turned around, sliding a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me. “When you were in school, did you ever have teachers tell you that the room brightened whenever you walked into it?”
“Yes, but they said that to everyone.” He leaned across the counter from me and handed me a fork, nodding at me to dig in. “Plus, they normally followed it up with, ‘but you distract others from their work,’ or ‘you don’t apply yourself,’ or ‘you’re too loud in class.’”
He chuckled. “Well, they may have said that to everyone but you’re one of the few people I’ve met who truly does light up a room. You brighten every space you exist within.”
I didn’t want to smile at him, and I needed to halt my stomach from lifting into my chest at his words. His eyes were blazing with that intensity again, and if I stared at them much longer I’d find myself pondering how they could look silver and brown and honey colored all at the same time. How they were both smoke and flame.
I picked up the fork and stuffed a bite full of eggs into my mouth. I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t like eggs. I don’t. Butfuck. These were good. They’rereallygood. Against my will, I moaned, and Dom’s following laugh radiated my bones.
“Okay, I’m afraid any compliment I give you will make your head explode because of how inflated your ego already is, but these eggs are fucking good.” I took another bite. “Although, I’m curious if you make these this before or after sleeping with women, because I wouldn’t be surprised if the eggs alone are the reason they choose to fuck you.”
The flames in his eyes began to simmer as he plucked the fork from my hand and scooped up his own bite. “So, what you’re saying is, I could’ve gotten you into bed this entire time if I’d only made you eggs first?”
“Oh, no. I'm much harder to catch. All I’m saying is that if these ladies are already stooping so low as to sleep with you, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out these,” I looked down at the plate, “are the reason why.”
He leaned closer, only inches from my face. “What does it take to catch you then, Mace?”
I stole the fork back and took another bite. “A lot more than eggs.”
His eyes were on my mouth as I slipped the fork between my lips. Eggs are inherently one of the most unsexy types of foods, and yet the way he watched me eat them was nothing but predatory. “Tell me about your date the other night.”
“No.”
“That bad, huh?”
“No.”
“Yeah, Travis didn’t seem like the type of name you’d want to be screaming out in the throws of passion, anyway.”
Oh, so that’s why he was so stuck on the name.
I blushed, tilting my head away from him. “Maybe I already did.”
I don’t know why I said that.
He tensed, bracing on his forearms as he leaned off the counter and stood. He looked me up and down before smirking. “No, you didn’t.”
“You don’t know that.” I couldn’t for the life of me understand why I was still baiting him, but I continued anyway, “Maybe I went to his house before coming home. Maybe I fucked him in his car.”
He chuckled as he walked around the kitchen island toward me. His gait was slow, calculated. He knew I was staring and he prowled as if he wanted me to take in every step. He reached the back of the barstool I was sitting at and spun it around so we’d face each other. “I know what a woman looks like when she’s been… satiated, Macie.” He leaned into me, smirking as I scowled. “And you haven’t been. At least not after that date.”
I stood, kicking the barstool behind me. I pushed against the planes of his chest, but he didn’t budge.God, he’s huge.Everything about him was huge. Tall and broad. Chiseled and hard. I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “What does a satiated woman look like, Dominic?”
He chuckled deeply. Seductively. My breath caught as his hand raised to my face, gripped my chin, and pulled me closer. “Why don’t you let me show you?”
I felt those words inside me. I felt the rush of arousal spread throughout my core. I thought—for one second—about what that would feel like. His hands, his tongue. My eyes traveled down his body, lingering on what I knew was beneath the zipper of his jeans. I let myself ponder what that would feel like—taste like—before I pulled my gaze away.
I snorted. “Doubt you could.”
