Luis was talking about his last roommate, an actress who’d brought home “dates” at all hours of the night. “She was running a red-light district out of my apartment. Why can’t I find anyone sane to rent my spare room?”
“Maybe the problem is you?” Ethan said. “There’s a reason I can’t live with you. Aside from the fact that you insist on living near the 405.”
“I like things clean, dishes put away, and no illegal activities. That’s so demanding?”
Dominic wondered how much Luis was charging for rent. The photographer’s apartment sounded much nicer than Dominic’s studio, assuming the man didn’t run a background check. Or maybe he’d be okay with ex-mobsters, as long as they were tidy.
Finally, the others were all otherwise occupied. Dominic’s gaze met Sylvie’s across the room. Sylvie set down her drink, rushed over to grab his hand, and pulled him downstairs.
He’d been hoping to see her bedroom, but she stopped in the living area. “Hi,” she said, looking down like she was nervous. “Are you having fun?”
“Yeah. Your friends are great.” But I’m here for you. She had to know that.
“Now you’ve met all my people. You already knew the Bennett Security contingent, and this is the rest of them. Pretty much.”
“You’ve definitely met mine—all two of them, Raymond and Maureen. There’s Warren, but he’s not out for another year or two.”
Sylvie twisted her hands together. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say. I loved that text you sent, the first one after we’d been apart? I took so long to write back because I didn’t know anything that good to say. But you’ve made me see the world differently, too. You matter so much to me.”
Dominic couldn’t describe the feeling in his chest. It was like riding a roller coaster as it zoomed into a loop. He pulled her closer. She brushed her thumb down his cheek.
“You have a scar.”
“My poor face.”
“Yep, you’re ugly now.” She smiled, and her blue eyes danced. So beautiful. His heart almost couldn’t take it.
His hands moved to her hips, enjoying the scratch of the lace against his palms, then traveled to the notches of her waist. Over four months—nearly five now—was a really long time.
God, he wanted her.
He brushed his nose against her temple, just above the frames of her glasses. She smelled like vanilla and roses. He wondered if it was perfume. His eyes closed as he breathed her in. “Since we last saw each other, I’ve only thought of you. I haven’t been with anyone else.”
“Neither have I,” she whispered. “But I made myself come. Twice. I was thinking about you.”
His head rushed with desire. He’d jerked off every day, but not to porn. Only to her.
Dominic brought his lips to her forehead, her cheek, moving toward her mouth. But before their lips could touch, she pulled back slightly.
“I need to take things slow. I don’t want to. But I need to.”
“Okay. That’s fine.” His dick was protesting that it really wasn’t fine. But that would just have to wait. He rested his forehead against hers. “I can go slow. Any particular reason?”
“You said you’re working on things about yourself.”
“Yeah.” He didn’t want to admit just how uncertain he still felt about the future.
“So am I. There are things I need to do before I can be with anyone. I’m still holding onto so much anger at my family. I want to let go of that. But I don’t know how.”
“If anybody can figure it out, it’s you.” He held her against his chest.
“But I do want to be with you. You have no idea how difficult it is not to drag you into my bedroom right now.”
“I can guess.” Five. Freaking. Months.
“But I don’t want to mess this up. It’s not just sex.”
“No. Not at all.”
“So we’ll be patient a little longer.”
“Yes?” His voice went high at the end, making it a question.
“Yes.” She kissed his jaw. “But I’m imagining all the things I want to do to you later.”
He made a small, needy noise that sounded distinctly like a whimper.
Ethan called from upstairs. “Everyone, cake!”