Chapter 12 Sloane
Sloane
Now
“What the hell is that?”
Mal eyes the contents of the plate in my hand like it’s a grenade with a pulled pin. I glance down at the offending plate, examining it closely to see what the problem is, but all I see is the red velvet cake Mama made for dessert.
I turn to her. “Uh, a piece of red velvet cake?”
“No shit, Sloane. I was right here when Nic handed it to you.”
“Then why are you acting confused?”
She slides to the edge of the sofa where we’ve been sitting since Mama shoved us out of the kitchen and angles her body toward me. “Nic brought it to you, and the bastard didn’t even bring me one.”
“Oh my God.” I laugh. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to bring you a slice if you ask him.”
Like clockwork, Dominic appears with another slice of cake in his hand.
He hands Mal the plate and plops down on the sofa beside her, stretching one of his long arms over the back of the chair and stretching his legs wide, like a king holding court.
I don’t realize I’m staring at him until he winks at me with a wolfish grin curving his lips.
Shit. How many times is the man going to catch me staring at him?
Mal looks between the two of us suspiciously, catching his smile and my blush but nothing else. “Are you two getting along?” Dominic stares at her but says nothing. The grin is gone now, replaced by an I-know-something-you-don’t-know smirk that has Mal focusing her attention on me.
I wrinkle my nose at her. “I wouldn’t go that far. He’s just moved down a space or two on my murder list.”
That’s a lie. I’m not entirely sure Dominic is even on my list anymore.
It pains me to admit it, but I’m finding it hard to hate him.
He still manages to annoy me sometimes, like right now, when he’s leaving me to answer all of Mal’s questions about the sudden shift in our dynamic, but things aren’t like they were before.
My heart doesn’t sink when I see him coming.
My hackles don’t raise with the inherent need to defend myself whenever he’s around.
Hell, I even sought him out just to say hello when I got here today.
I found him in the kitchen, posted up against the refrigerator, giving Mama a rundown on the repairs he was planning on making to her house.
Like always, I was hit with a rush of appreciation for him and the way he cares for her in all the ways that Mal and I can’t, but instead of biting back the compliment, I said it out loud.
The words rushed out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop them, and I don’t know who was more surprised by the outburst: me, Dominic, or Mama.
Her face broke into a megawatt smile, pulling her soft features into an expression that was a mix of happiness and relief.
Dominic laughed it off. His chiseled features schooled into the picture of nonchalance while his eyes burned holes into my face.
I couldn’t pinpoint the emotions that played across his face as he assessed me, but I think I saw surprise and maybe a little amusement when I was finally brave enough to meet his midnight gaze.
Honestly, I feel like I’m starting to see him as something other than an enemy, and it’s kind of nice.
Especially when the benefits of getting along with him include comforting hugs where I can rest my head against the hard planes of his chest and listen to the deep rumbles of his voice when he’s saying something that’s not meant to insult me.
I want more of it. Especially if it means getting first dibs on a piece of Mama’s red velvet cake without having to move a muscle.
Mal takes a bite of her cake. “Well, I guess that’s nice.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Dominic says. “Considering it’s exactly what you asked for.”
“I know I asked for it, but I never expected it to happen. And I didn’t expect it to mean you’d bring Sloane cake before you brought me some.”
She pouts at Dominic, who rolls his eyes with all of the annoyance of a big brother who has made the grave mistake of spending years spoiling his little sister. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? You got your cake less than five seconds after she did. Now shut up and eat it.”
“Don’t tell me to shut up, Dominic.”
“Stop whining like a child, Mallory Pearl.”
“You’re such an ass. Bringing my middle name into this is such a low blow.”
She sticks her tongue out at him, and he rolls his eyes.
I watch the whole exchange in silence, knowing from years of watching Mal, Eric, and Dominic bickering that there’s no real heat or hurt in their words.
This is just something that they do. An added benefit to growing up with siblings—or in Dominic’s case, people who treated you like one.
“You started it. We both know how I feel about people calling me by my full name.”
Mal opens her mouth to respond, but she’s interrupted by Mama yelling for her from the kitchen.
She floats off in a huff, leaving Dominic and me on the sofa alone.
I look around, noticing that we’re the only ones in the living room.
Everyone else has either gone home or is outside in the backyard for the basketball game that happens every Sunday after dinner.
Eric and Dominic always played, and most weekends Dominic still does.
Weirdly, he’s not out there today.
I flick my gaze over to him only to find he’s already looking at me. I blush and hope he wasn’t watching when I took that last bite of cake, because I’m ninety percent certain I have icing on my face.
“Thanks for the cake,” I say, feeling awkward now with his dark eyes glued to mine.
He shrugs, tapping his fingers rhythmically along the back of the sofa. “Don’t mention it.”
“Oh no.” I sigh dramatically and turn to face him. “Is this the part where you get upset with me for thanking you instead of just saying you’re welcome?”
Dominic winces. The muscle in his jaw starts to do that little tick-tick-tick and panic slices through me as I wonder if maybe it’s too soon in our friendship—using that term very loosely—for me to be making jokes like that. But then a slow, lazy smile pulls at his lips.
“You’re welcome, Sloane.” He says my name slowly, drawing out the one syllable until it sounds like the slow glide of a zipper racing down the back of a woman’s dress at the hand of her lover.
I swallow and drag my gaze away from him. It doesn’t matter though. The image of his mouth curving around my name is seared into my brain. “I’m glad to know you are capable of forming those words with your mouth.”
“I’m capable of doing a lot of things with my mouth.”
What did he just say? Have we made it to the part of our fledgling friendship where we make bad jokes riddled with sexual innuendo already?
I rack my brain to try and find an acceptable response.
One that toes the line, just in case I completely misread his words and the panty-dropping smile was all in my head.
Dominic-based delusions aren’t exactly a rarity for me these days.
The vivid dreams and the very real, but highly inappropriate, responses to his touch are proof of my mind’s ability to impart brow-raising suggestions on just about everything the man does.
“Right.” It’s an effort to push the word past my lips. “I’m sure Kristen is more than satisfied with your…mouth’s capabilities.”
Oh, hell. I send up a silent prayer, hoping for someone to summon me from another part of the house or for the ground to just open up and swallow me whole.
Why the hell did I bring up Kristen? I don’t know anything about his ex-girlfriend besides what Mal told me a few months ago about them ending their relationship just to turn around and become friends with benefits.
Somehow my brain retained the information without me even knowing it, updating the mental files I’ve always kept on Dominic but never had a reason to use.
Up until now. When I am so desperate for a comeback I have no problem sliding into this completely uncharted territory with him.
The only upside to mentioning the woman he’s currently sleeping with is that it’s exactly what I need to stop my brain from ticking off the number of things his mouth has done to me in my dreams.
Dominic slides down the sofa, and the heat of his body envelops mine the instant he closes the distance between us.
Our thighs touch. A muscular, denim-clad leg pressing into the skin bared by my sundress.
Rough fingers grip my chin, turning my head and making me face the amused expression that’s taken over his entire face.
“Probably just as satisfied as James is with yours,” he murmurs, his eyes on my mouth.
I shake my head, ready to rid him of any notions about my relationship with James, but all I get out is a strangled noise before he swipes a thumb over the corner of my mouth and pulls back with a fleck of cream-cheese icing smeared across the pad of his finger.
I watch shamelessly as he brings the digit to his mouth and, with a flick of his tongue that sends an arc of electricity down my spine, sucks it clean.
My mouth hangs open as my brain struggles to process what I’ve just witnessed. Dominic smirks at me, and I don’t know how to stop the heat from creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. He sees the whole thing, because of course he does, and it only makes me blush harder.
“Yo, Dom!” a voice calls out from outside, and I almost jump out of my skin when I turn to see Eric’s younger cousin, Julian, standing on the front porch. He pulls the door open and peeks his head through. “We need another person for this pickup game. You playing?”