Page 77 of Sweet Shots

“Don’t be sorry.” He kisses my head again. “Ask me anything whenever you need to. I’ll always answer you honestly.”

“Thank you,” I mutter, then yawn.

Dominic pulls me to him, and I throw my arm over his torso.

“Go to sleep,” he whispers.

I close my eyes and fall asleep, just like he told me to.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dominic

Whoever thisRyanJack504guy is, he must be a billionaire or something. Only an hour after the video is up, I get the money deposited into my account. A few minutes after that, Mikah texts me that he got his, too. I understand why he stresses about money the way he does, but I can’t empathize with it because I don’t have that problem. To me, it’s just money. You work more, you get more, you spend more. Then you get some more. It’s a never-ending cycle. Even coming from no money, I don’t feel the way he does about it. I guess I have my own trauma stuff, like all the collecting and spending. Always buying things I want because I can—something I couldn’t do when I was a kid—something I wish I could have done for my mother. Something I vowed to do when I was a kid. I wanted to take care of her the way she took care of me. It was the only wish I had when I found out she was sick with cancer.

We knew it would kill her; there was no denying that. I only wished she’d stayed around long enough that I could show her how thankful and grateful I was for everything she’d done for me. I’m sure she knew, she always knew what I was thinking and how I was feeling, but I wish I could have returned it. Instead, I’m giving it to Mikah. He gets the best parts of me. At least, I like to think they’re the best parts. He keeps coming back, and that says a lot.

If for some crazy reason, my mother is floating around as a ghost or a spirit, watching me, I know without a doubt she’d be happy for me. I just really hope she isn’t seeing all the sex, because that would traumatize her.

I get the official invitation to the award ceremony today, fill it out, and put it back in the mail. I spend time browsing my phone for matching outfit ideas for the two of us and send Mikah screenshots when I find one I like. He agrees with none of them. Which means the only way we’re going to fix this is to go shopping together.

Me: Get dressed. We’re going shopping.

Sexy Neighbor: I hate shopping.

Me: Too bad. We’re leaving in twenty.

I can hear the groan from here. I’m just finishing up getting dressed when my phone dings with a text.

Sexy Neighbor: I’m driving.

Me: No.

Sexy Neighbor: Then I’m not going.

Me: Get your ass outside before I drag you out by that sexy hair of yours.

I smirk as I hit send, knowing he’s grumbling about that, too. He likes when I’m flirty, but doesn’t like how it immobilizes him. His brain goes all haywire and he can’t think straight. I fucking love it.

Grabbing my wallet, phone, and keys, I hurry out the door. Mikah is leaving his house at the same time.

“Hey, neighbor!” I call out, waving.

He looks at me, confused, then smiles and shakes his head as he locks his door.

“Let me pick you up!” I call. He frowns, looking at me like I’m an alien.

I hurry to my car, get in and start it up. I back out of my driveway and turn into his, stopping behind his car. I get out and go to the passenger door, opening it for him.

“You’re so ridiculous,” he mutters behind his smile.

“I just want to spoil my baby,” I say, leaning in to kiss him once he’s seated. I close the door and hurry around the other side, and then we’re on our way.

“How is it you’re always so put together?” Mikah asks once he drops his hand from the radio knob, settling on a station that plays classic rock.

I make a show of looking around. We’re in my car, driving to the mall that has one of my favorite men’s stores.

“We’re in a car. What is there to be up in arms about?”

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