Chapter 11 Dominic #3
She pulls a set of keys out of her purse and sways a bit as she uses her student ID to let us into the building. I reach out to steady her.
“Thanks.”
Her smile is all perfect teeth and full pink lips, so tempting I have to look away or else I’m not going to be able to do what I need to do, which is see her to her door, maybe kiss her good night, give her my number, and leave.
Luckily, she’s staying on the first floor, and I’m treated to a prime-time view of her hips swinging as I follow her to her room. As soon as she unlocks the door, I release a long breath.
Sloane pushes the door open and glances back at me. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Looking at you is just making it hard for me to do what I need to do.”
A knowing smile tugs at the corner of her lips.
She leans against the partially open door.
The room is dark, except for a sliver of light coming from somewhere inside.
The beam spills out into the hallway and illuminates Sloane’s silhouette.
I stare at her, so caught up in her beauty, I almost forget she’s drunk.
That is until the door swings out from behind her and sends her stumbling into the room.
I reach for her, but I’m too late. Her body hits the floor with a dull thud, and then she’s flat on her back laughing at the ceiling. The sound reminds me of just how far gone she is.
“Well, that should make this next part a lot easier on you.”
All at once, I’m shocked by how gracefully she managed to land and charmed by her sense of humor in what has got to be an extremely embarrassing moment for someone as confident and self-possessed as Sloane.
I step into the room, bend over her prone form, and extend a hand. “Actually, it makes it harder, since now I have to consider whether it’s safe to leave you when you might have a concussion.”
I pull her up and as soon as her feet touch the ground, I scoop her up into my arms again. Our faces are mere inches apart, and I brush my nose over hers, leaving her eyelids fluttering when I pull back and stare at her some more.
“I need to brush my teeth.”
“Where’s your bathroom?”
She points at a partially open, and well lit, doorway on the other side of the room with a perfectly manicured finger. I follow it just like I’ve followed her all night long. Like I plan to follow her for the rest of my life. The tangle of emotions in my chest hums its assent.
Crossing the room takes no time at all, even with Sloane in my arms. When we enter the small bathroom, I drop her on the countertop by the sink. “Where’s your stuff, angel?”
She indicates her toiletries with a flick of her finger and then watches with a dazed look on her face as I place a tiny dab of toothpaste on her toothbrush, run it under water, and bring it to her lips.
“Open.”
The order lights a spark in her eyes, and I know she intends for me to take it as a nonverbal challenge, but I don’t. I’m not sure why I need to do this, but nothing is going to stop me from taking care of her.
Something in my expression must tell her this isn’t a battle she’s going to win, because she gives a dramatic roll of her eyes and opens her mouth.
With a triumphant grin on my face, I brush her teeth, making sure to be thorough, so the taste of Jack Daniel’s and any other alcohol she consumed is no longer in her mouth.
When I’m done, and she’s finished glowering at me, I try to pull her into my arms again.
“I let you brush my teeth, but I draw the line at your carrying me around like I’m incapable of walking two feet without running into something.” I raise a skeptical brow at her, and she rolls her eyes. “Dom, I’m fine. And I could use a minute with the, uh—”
She gestures toward the toilet, and I get the hint. “Shit. Sorry. I’ll just wait out here.”
I hook a finger in the general direction of her room and step out of the bathroom.
The lock clicks behind me, and I fold myself into a desk chair.
One look at the contents on the desk tells me it’s Sloane’s.
Her smiling face peers up at me from a silver frame, and I pick it up to get a closer look.
It’s a recent photo of her alongside an older man with medium-brown skin, a bald head, and streaks of gray in his neatly trimmed beard. This must be her dad.
When I set the picture back down, my eyes light on a colorful square of sticky notes lying beside a cup of pens.
Plucking up a pen, I write a short note to Sloane on the pad then slide it to the edge of the desk closest to her bed.
I finish up just as she comes slinking out of the bathroom, slowly walking past me, like she doesn’t believe she can make it to her bed without falling or bumping into something.
“You okay?”
She braces herself with one hand on the desk. “Yes. Just a little dizzy.”
“Almost there.” I rise to my feet and come up behind her, placing one hand on the small of her back. She sways into me, her hips brushing into my groin. The erection I’ve been fighting back since we left the party springs back to life.
Sloane wiggles her hips. “Someone’s happy to see me.”
“Behave.” I smack her on the ass and walk her forward until her knees hit the frame of her bed. Reaching past her, I pull her cover and top sheet back. They smell like her already. “Alright. Up you go.”
She hops up on her bed with a pout on her full lips. “Is this how the night is going to end? With you tucking me into bed instead of climbing in with me to complete list item number four?”
“Yes.” I lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead. “But there’s always tomorrow night.”
And all the nights after. You can have me every night if you want.
Tired eyes blink up at me. “Stay. Please.”
I shake my head, but my resolve is wavering. Going back to my room to sleep alone sounds like the worst idea ever when I have an angel inviting me to her bed.
“Your phone is still dead, so I wrote my number down for you. I’m leaving it right here. Call me in the morning, okay?”
“Mm-hmm. Hmm.” Sloane’s eyelids flutter once, twice, and then they’re closed.
With another soft kiss to her forehead, I slip out of her room, making sure the door is secure before I go.
Leaving her feels wrong, but I force myself to do it anyway because she’s drunk, and I don’t know how much of this she’ll remember in the morning when her mind isn’t sluggish from alcohol.
Hopefully everything. And if not, I know the note I left will fill in the blanks, which means I’ll hear from her tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
I pull out my phone and see it’s a little after 2:00 a.m., which means technically it’s already tomorrow. So today. Today, I will hear from my angel and find out if the solid knot in my chest feels any different in the light of day.
A loud ding from my phone lets me know I’ve just received a message. Even though I know she’s fast asleep, a part of me hopes it’s Sloane. Instead, I see Eric’s name flashing across the screen. He’s finally replying to a message I sent earlier about the beds in our room.
Eric: Both of them look like they sleep like shit, but if you’ve got the better one, we might have to square up for it. Otherwise, I might have to tell Mama I’m staying home after all. Lol.
I laugh at his message but don’t bother replying for two reasons.
One: Eric would rather sleep on shards of glass for the next four years than give up the freedom that living on campus is going to give him.
Two: If things with Sloane go the way I think, sleeping in any bed that isn’t hers will be the least of my worries.