Chapter 15 #3
Just as I’m about to stop my intrusiveness, a splayed-out stack of folders on a side table catches my eye.
I glance quickly towards the bathroom door where I still hear the water running.
With one finger I gently open the top folder, careful not to disrupt the whole pile.
Even if it seemed to be carelessly tossed to the side, you never know how protective people are of their own things.
I know this is wrong. I know this is a complete invasion of privacy, but the swell of desire to know something secretive about a man so aloof is burning at me from the insides.
My eyes quickly run over the first heading: Admissions to the Culinary Institute of America.
I carefully maneuver the stack and read the others: Culinary Arts Academy Switzerland, Le Cordon Bleu, Auguste Escoffier School of Culinary Arts, and at least three other culinary institutes.
All admissions documents. Switzerland? Shock pulses through me.
I had no idea he wanted to go to culinary school.
Would he really leave Remington Hills? I take a step back frowning a little.
Have I ever even asked about his interests? About anything? I know our conversations have revolved around me a lot because he wanted to learn more to help in his matchmaking endeavour, but we’re supposed to be friends. So shouldn’t I at least know this about him?
I jump at the sound of the bathroom door opening. I whip my head around and face Dominic, chest bare and a towel wrapped around his hips. My frazzled brain suddenly eddies of all thoughts entirely.
Cue the Bow Chicka Wow Wow music.
I can’t even think of something funny to say to cut the tension that coats the air.
And there’s tension all right. My tongue lays thick in my mouth as my eyes trail down from his dark locks to his broad shoulders.
His body is covered in intricate tattoos.
Sea creatures adorn one side of his rib cage, the glittery shark just visible from where I stand.
The rest are hard for me to make out from this distance but I so badly want to look at them up closely and run my fingers over every line.
His damp hair releases a few errant water droplets that slide down his neck.
I follow the path of the droplets with my eyes down his sculpted chest. The droplets continue over his impeccable abs, and sink further past the folded knot in the towel that Dominic’s one hand grips firmly in a fist.
My eyes linger on his tight grip and, maybe because that dark romance novel is stuck in my psyche, but suddenly the idea of a hand necklace seems less taboo and more desirable by the second.
I am having an absolutely feral reaction to his physical form right now, and I have no idea what to do next.
I feel like the human version of a lava lamp. Hot, bubbly, and completely useless.
“Hi,” I say stupidly.
His eyes flash with amusement and there I am caught in his web, unable to do anything but stare.
“Hello, Celeste,” he says back, sounding like he can hear exactly how my body is reacting to him.
It’s just that. Just a bodily reaction. Totally natural, I lie to myself.
“Hey, Hoot?” he asks in a lighter tone.
“Uh, yeah?” I say, a little too breathy for my liking.
“I try to keep my apartment pretty clean, but if you leave your jaw hanging around on the floor like that, sooner or later a spider might find it hospitable.” The bastard’s smug face says he absolutely sees how my body is reacting to his.
I try to mask my mortification as best as possible, but there is no denying that I was just out right ogling the man, probably drooling too.
But I can’t tell, because right now I can’t even feel my fucking face.
“I…I’m no—” I must be having a stroke. His low chuckle pulls me back to his taunt and I slam my jaw shut then slap both palms over my face for good measure.
His only response, “Good girl.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline and I have enough sense in me to keep my hands covering my face. Otherwise he would see two very pink cheeks and my pulse threatening to shoot out of my carotid. Thank God he can’t see my panties right now because that was fucking hot.
I hear him chuckle low and deep and it does nothing to help. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
I don’t move my hands from my face until I hear his bedroom door close softly.
* * *
The walk from his apartment, past the tattoo parlour, and to my car in a lot around the side of the building holds a nervous kind of silence between us.
I want to thank him for the mouth orgasms he inflicted on me not once but twice with his food, the real orgasms I’ll have to give myself after seeing what he looks like shirtless, and the squishy heart orgasms I’ve felt all the way from when he held my hand during the tattoo process to when he told me he cares about me.
But I’ve died from mortification enough today so, instead I go with, “Thanks, Dom. I really appreciate you letting me crash and staying the night at your place.” I shoot him what I hope is a breezy smile as I lean back against my buggy.
Dominic stands, hands in his jean pockets.
His hair is still a little damp and his chest is now unfortunately covered in a white t-shirt.
He looks the epitome of calm, cool, collected while I try desperately to look less like I’ve just been electrocuted.
“And just being there for me yesterday,” I tack on.
“No problem, Hoot. Everyone deserves to have a friend there for their first tattoo.” His smile is genuine but I feel as if a bucket of cold water was just dumped on my head.
Friend.
Because that’s what we are. Just friends. All that heat, chemistry, and sexual tension that was toying with my emotions this morning is clearly one-sided.
With that word blanketing all my other thoughts I lean in and give him a quick hug, pulling back to say, “You’re a great friend.
” I turn quickly before I can read his reaction.
The sentiment tastes bitter on my tongue and leaves my insides feeling hollow.
I start up my car then quickly lower my window.
“Don’t forget the double date tomorrow night, I can pick you up after your shift.
I know Delaney is all giggles and odd emojis, but this date really means a lot to her,” I call out from my car to where Dominic stands a few paces away.
“I’ll be there,” is all he says. I nod and I roll my window back up, shoot Dom a little wave and then head towards home, calling Delaney through Bluetooth.
“Hello, Pinky. So you got my tex-”
I cut her off, “Apples! The phrase is an apple a day!”
Delaney laughs wickedly. “Eh. Potato, tomato.”