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“I don’t do that,” I murmured.
His fingers grasped my chin and he lifted my head. “You’re doing it to me right now.”
I blinked at him, taking a moment to absorb what he said. He rubbed the pad of his thumb across my jaw, giving me a pleading smile before standing up and brushing the sand off his hands. He held his hand out to me and I took it without question.
He didn’t let go as he led me back to the apartment.
I unlocked the apartment door and stepped through it, but he made no motion to follow. I faced him from inside, unsure of what to say.
“It’s late,” he said just above a whisper.
“Yeah,” I sighed.
“It’s been over twenty-four hours, so you’re in the clear to be by yourself.”
“Okay.”
His lips formed a thin line and I wondered if he’d expected me to ask him to stay. Part of me wanted to. But I wasn’t sure what that would mean for us this time, because we no longer had the excuse of a doctor’s order keeping us together. We’d made it a whole day without either of us going down on the other. Despite a few extremely heated moments, I felt like we’d come a long way in our attempt at being friends.
Still, a girl only had so much self control.
We stared at each other for what felt like years, before I mumbled a farewell to him and moved to shut the door. His hand reached out and grabbed it, leaving it half open.
“Macie.” His voice was a command, and it ran along my skin like flames. “Let me make one thing clear: I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. Every choice I make, every person I choose to spend time with, I am doing so because I want to. When I choose to come over here, when I choose to celebrate Hanukkah with you, or make you eggs, or invite you skiing it is because Iwantto.” His tone was sharp. It was almost impatient. Exactly the kind of tone Jeremy liked to use with me. As if he realized it too, he sighed. “I already told you that I like your company, I like being around you. I’m not sure why it’s so hard for you to understand that.”
“You said interacting with me is challenging.”
He blew out a breath. “No, I said it is a challenge, and that Iliketo be challenged.”
I leaned against the door, crossing my arms. “Nobody likes to be challenged all the time.”
“First of all, maybe I do.” He mimicked my position. “Secondly, it’s not a challenge all the time. You have soft moments, and I like you just as much as then as I do when you’re throwing spears.” He shook his head, but I thought I caught a glimpse of a chuckle on his lips. “You’re able to accept that Penelope likes you for who you are, why can’t you accept that I do? Maybe I want to be your friend too?”
Because you’re bored. Because you’re lonely. Because I’m the only person around. Mostly, because you haven’t spent enough time with me to grow tired yet, but you will.
And because I don’t think I could grow tired of Dom. But I know he will of me.
I didn’t say any of that, though.
“Plus, I know firsthand that my friends have good taste in their own friends. I also know how much you helped Penelope last year. How good you were to her. I know that you played some strings behind the scenes to get her and Carter together when both of them were too stubborn to do it themselves. I know you’re trustworthy, reliable, and honest.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “My wanting to sleep with you has nothing to do with my wanting to be your friend.”
Did he just admit he still wants to sleep with me?
The brazen, unabashed look on his face made me wonder if I was hearing things. There was no timidness, no worry in his eyes. No expectation of a response to that. I realized that maybe, like me, when Dominic Evans wants to say something, he does.
And somehow, I laughed. “I’ll go skiing with you, idiot.”
His eyes widened, and then lit up like the Christmas lights hung around the apartment. “I’ll pick you up at eight Monday morning, baby.” He was smirking as I shut the door in his face.
Chapter 13
Ifoundmyselfwakingup this morning thankful that I’m a hoarder. Penny insisted I had no reason to hang onto my ski gear upon the move to Los Angeles since I hadn’t been in years, and when I showed up with it anyway, she refused to let me store the items in her closet.
I made a mental note to send her a picture of me, indeed, using my ski gear.
Dom texted me at exactly eight o’clock, and I met him downstairs. The sun was already blazing outside, and I was glad I decided to pack my snow clothes in a bag, wearing just a pair of leggings and a knit sweater for the car ride.
“How's the head?” he asked as I opened the door.
