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She raised her head and looked at me. “And I’ll never throw a five-pound book at your head.”
“Sounds like a fair treaty.”
She shivered once and wrapped the sheet around her shoulders. I wished I hadn’t turned off the light so I could see her expression.
“What about you?” I asked her. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She laughed. “I’m just a little out of practice, I guess. It’s been a while. I mean, after things ended with James, I dated here and there, but nothing lasted. Maybe they were turned off by the fact that I was divorced, even though it wasn’t much of a marriage to begin with. Or maybe it’s just me. It’s just hard to trust again once you’ve been burned.” She suddenly leaned over, kissed my shoulder, and then rested her cheek there. “Don’t burn me, Dom,” she whispered.
“No,” I said quickly and wrapped my arms around her, kissing her forehead. “I may be an unholy pain in the ass, and sometimes you might want to throw that Shakespeare book at me after all, but I swear I’ll always be straight with you. No games, baby. That’s not what this is.”
She was silent for a minute. “Then what is it?” she finally asked.
I didn’t know how to answer that question. There was nothing simple about what we’d started here.
Melanie was still my employee, which, according to my own standards, meant she ought to have been automatically off-limits.
My brother still wouldn’t approve if he knew what I’d just done.
And we were still all in the middle of the highly stressful ordeal of opening a new restaurant.
But none of that meant I’d consider giving Melanie up. I’d made that decision when I rang her doorbell an hour ago. Now that I had her, I had every intention of keeping her.
“It’s right,” I told her. “That’s what it is. I think this moment was inevitable from the day you walked your sexy ass into my restaurant. So don’t question it.”
Melanie kissed me. “Blunt as ever. But there’s a romantic streak in you, Mr.Esposito, and I’m not going to let you forget that I’ve seen it.”
I smiled. “So you have me all figured out, huh?”
She traced shapes lightly on my chest. They felt like hearts. “You’re honest, Dominic. I may not always like what you have to say, but you’re always authentic.” She stopped tracing hearts and snuggled closer. “That’s why I’m crazy about you.”
At this rate I might never stop smiling. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she sighed and then let out a short laugh. “And believe me, I’ve tried not to be.”
I rolled on top of her. “Stop freaking trying,” I ordered.
She laughed again. “It’s too late anyway,” she teased.
I rolled off again and collected her against my chest once more. It felt good to hold her this way. I stroked her hair and listened to her breathing become deep and even. I thought she was falling asleep, and I would have been happy to follow. But as I sifted her long hair through my hands, she suddenly stirred and closed her hand around my dick. By all rights I should have been far too tired to manage another round of energetic sex, but my anatomy had different ideas.
“Hey, is there a showerhead in that bathtub of yours?” I asked suddenly.
“Well of course,” Melanie said with some surprise. “Wait. Where are we going?”
I had picked her up, sheets and all, and was heading for the bathroom. “To fulfill a fantasy.”
She giggled. “Does it involve the shower?”
“Yup. The shower and you and me and a variety of crude positions.”
Melanie threw her head back with a groan. “You just might wear me out, Dominic.”
I set her down on the floor and turned the shower on. “I’m sure as hell gonna try, sweetheart.”
We did sleep, eventually. It felt like only seconds passed between the moment I shut my eyes and when I opened them again to find the gray morning light filtering through the blinds in Melanie’s bedroom. She was still asleep, her head on the pillow beside me, and even though she was sexy as hell with her hair surrounding her in a dark cloud, those rosebud lips parted, and the flowered quilt only half covering her perfect body, that wasn’t why I stared at her with my heart in my throat. Melanie Cruz had managed to awaken something inside of me that I thought I didn’t possess.
The only other time in my life I’d ever felt anything even close to this was when I was also the worst version of myself, when I had started something for terrible, selfish reasons, never intending for it to mean anything other than a good time with a small dose of vengeance. In the end I’d hurt everyone, even myself, and forged a rift that even time and distance would never solve. I’d had no excuse, other than being young and stupid and furious over a bitter family war. Sometimes there were no explanations as to why those who shared your blood were the ones who wound up wronging you the most. Or why you turned around and did the same to them.
