Chapter 36
The more I think about it, the more I feel like I should do something to thank Loch Ness for standing up for me. She didn’t have to do that.
I know I’ve already tricked her into eating her broccoli so she won’t bleed out from scurvy but Gampy says I should do something for her that I think she will actually enjoy, and she definitely doesn’t enjoy broccoli.
List of things Loch Ness does like:
Violence
Gore
Making fun of me
Video games (that have violence and gore and where she can make fun of me if she wins)
Candy
Girly stuff like nail polish and earrings
Blanket forts (Stacy C. did a big one for her birthday last month and Alice kept going on and on about how much she loved it)
I think I know what I need to do.
Alice
I slept through the night. Through the morning. And into the afternoon.
No dreams, no restless tossing, turning, or frustrated flipping of pillows. Just darkness—blissful, and quiet, and so endlessly deep that I was disoriented by the time it finally loosened its grip and allowed me to resurface.
It took me a minute to connect the dots on where—and who—I was.
“Dom?” I eventually called out, squinting around the blurry room. Was it just in my head, or were my eyes taking a lot longer to adjust to the light than they usually did? “Dominic? Are you still here?”
A dull pang of disappointment tugged at my chest when no one answered. The last time he’d left me after spending the night, it hadn’t exactly ended well. There was no note this time either, so I reached for my phone, thinking he’d at least sent me a text or something.
There were fifty-three unread texts from the family group chat. A missed call and three messages from Rachel. A brunch invitation from Jamie and Jackson. But nothing from Dom.
I got out of bed, stripped out of my clothes, and stepped into the rain shower. It took substantial effort. My bones felt stiff and heavy, like rusty metal weighed down by bags of wet sand.
The hot water helped. The unexpected knock on the bathroom door did not.
My shoulders bunched, and the shampoo bottle slipped out of my grip and tumbled onto the stone tiles.
Out of all the sounds that a woman who lives alone wants to hear within the walls of her apartment, someone knocking on her bathroom door while she’s butt-naked in the shower scrapes the bare bottom of the list.
“Alice?”
Relief collided with adrenaline, making my legs tingle. I slid the glass door aside and poked my head out. “Dom? I thought you left.”
“Where would I have gone?”
“Home?”
“To do what?”
I frowned at the door. “I don’t know. What do you normally do with your free time?”
“Well, I used to do a lot of stomping around and plotting sweet, sweet revenge on my lifelong nemesis, but I don’t have that to default to anymore, so I’m feeling a little lost.”
I would have smiled if I weren’t in such a crumpled and soggy mood. I wonder if we can go visit Rosie again today. “I’ll be out in a bit, and we can do some brainstorming. Find you a new hobby.”
“Can we do it now? I have some ideas.”
“I’m in the shower.”
“I don’t mind.”
My lips twitched. “Oh, then, by all means.”
The door swung open.
And my jaw hit the floor.
I blinked, half-convinced I was hallucinating.
Dominic Crawford, the bane of my childhood existence, my teenage crush and former nemesis, was looming in the doorway of my bathroom, wearing a pair of black fitted dress pants, a black bow tie, and nothing else.
He was shirtless. Sporting a bow tie.
Like a stripper.
“What,” I gasped, so confused but somehow also smiling, “are you wearing?”
“It’s my butler’s uniform,” he announced with a cocky smirk.
“You and I struck a deal under false pretenses, and I don’t think we’ll be able to move on completely until we even out the score.
You spent around two weeks as my housekeeper, wearing an assigned uniform and doing everything you were told, so now it’s my turn. Tit for tat.”
I’d barely heard what he said. “Dominic, you look like you could literally tear off your pants.”
I shrieked with a sparkling mixture of bafflement and delight when he grabbed the fabric near his crotch and yanked. The whole thing came right off. Buttons snapped open, fabric went flying, and then he was standing there, looking deliciously ridiculous in his straining briefs.
What about this specific scenario was turning him on, I’d never know.
“What is even happening?” I muttered under my breath, wide eyes scanning his half-naked body.
He grinned, arms crossing as he basked in my ogling, proud of both himself and the abundance of muscles he’d accumulated over the years. The guy was ripped.
And mind-meltingly attractive. The most attractive, I’d argue. As would the cavewoman trying to beat her way out of my head with a club, frothing at the mouth with the desire to climb him.
I cleared my throat and glanced away before I started drooling.
“I had a feeling you’d like it,” he boasted.
My eyes were meandering over the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing I’d seen all week. “Obviously, I do. It’s hilarious. And as much as I appreciate the gesture, I’m not going to force you to be my butler.”
“You’re not forcing me to do anything. I’m offering.”
“Still.” I needed to turn down the water temperature before my skin melted off. The steam was fogging up my thoughts, making them harder to decipher. “It wouldn’t feel right.”
He’d suffered enough for one lifetime so far, as I was concerned.
He tilted his head, that all-too-familiar competitive edge dripping from his tone. “Are you sure?”
“Pretty positive, yeah.”
“Wanna bet?”
It was instinct, sharpened by a lifetime of competing with him, that made my eyes narrow and slide back to him.
His widening, predatory smile made my hackles rise.
Hot irritation arrowed through me, hitting me right between the thighs.
I squeezed my legs together. It did nothing to fend off the liquid ache building there.
“Give me the rest of today,” he said, stalking forward. “Let me make my case by showing you what the next two weeks could entail, and if you’re still not convinced, I’ll drop it. The timer stops at midnight.” He stopped just outside the semi-open shower door, leering down at me. “Please.”
My fingers tightened over the handle, my neck straining as I raised my chin high enough to maintain eye contact. “Are you going to let this go if I don’t agree?”
“Doubtful.”
I eyed him. “What time is it now?”
“One thirty.”
So he had, what, ten hours to make me change my mind? That wasn’t too bad. “Fine, but whatever I say at midnight goes. No arguing.”
His grin was wolfish, glinting like he’d already won. “Deal.”
“Deal.”
We shook on it. Right before he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his briefs and pulled them off. They were tossed aside with one hand while the other gripped the edge of the glass door, pushing it aside.
He walked right in.
I crossed my arms, not to hide my breasts, but to emphasize the judgmental look I was fixing him as my feet backed up to accommodate his massive frame. “What are you doing?”
“What good is a butler if they don’t even help condition your hair?”
“Do you actually know what a butler is?” I jested as he shook his head like a wet dog, pushing his hair away from his forehead.
“This is a nice shower, lots of room,” he noted as we got rained on. He gestured toward the built-in stone bench to his right. “That’s going to come in handy, I bet.”
“Super quick, define ‘butler’ for me,” I pushed.
He ignored me, turning products so he could scan their labels. “You have whatever body soufflé is but no shampoo?”
“I dropped it. Here.”
He grabbed me by the waist before I could bend down to retrieve it. “Allow me.”
Crouching down, he snatched the bottle off the floor and clicked the plastic lid open.
“You forgot to take off your bow tie.” I flicked at the soaked, drooping fabric.
He chuckled. “You did always hate them.”
“I truly can’t think of a stupider men’s accessory. Except fedoras, obviously.” I snapped my fingers and pointed one at him the second I saw inspiration hit. “Do not wear a fedora.”
That cheeky grin told me everything I needed to know.
“Dominic, I will put on a metal chastity belt with multiple locks and flush each key down a different toilet.” And I was only half-bluffing.
Another deep, warm laugh drifted out of him. He squeezed a generous amount of white goo into the center of his palm, then rubbed his hands together. “I’d still make you come.”
I snorted, which he, of course, took as yet another challenge. “Wanna bet?”
The rain ceased, replaced by a comfortable mist, and then his fingers were in my hair, coating the soaked strands with perfumed goo. “Yes, Dominic. I do want to bet that you can’t make me orgasm if you don’t have access to my literal vagina.”
He wasn’t deterred. I could tell by the cocky tilt to his lingering smirk. But he’d started massaging my scalp, and it felt so good that it was melting away the ragged edges of my apprehension. This I could get used to.
My eyes had shut by the time he moved on to the conditioner, and before I knew it, I was leaning into him, my cheek resting on his chest as he gently stroked my hair.
“I might fall asleep. For real,” I mumbled while he rinsed the conditioner off with one of the detached showerheads.
“Told you the bench would come in handy. C’mere.”
I was lifted off my feet and settled on his lap, my back pressed to his chest. He adjusted himself before pulling my hips back. “Comfortable?”
“Very.”
I snuggled closer when the loofah he’d lathered dragged over my arm. I’d never been pampered like this before. It was pure heaven. He maneuvered me this way and that as he attended to every inch of my body, until my bones no longer felt like creaking wood, weighed down by yesterday’s events.
“Thank you,” I eventually muttered, turning my head so I could place a warm kiss on his cheek. “This is really nice.”
“Does that mean I win?”