I was in deep trouble. The desire to rub one out in the shower was so tempting, but the lock on the bathroom was broken and I wouldn’t put it past Dom to barge in here and finish the job for me. My imagination was running amok. But it was because he was unpredictable.
He was incorrigible.
Nothing fazed him.
At all.
Dom propositioning me was absurd. It was probably a side effect of blood loss or adrenaline and I was a convenient warm body. I shouldn’t read too much into it. Besides, I couldn’t afford to get entangled with him. We were not the same.
You are just trash who cleans my toilet.
A voice from my past reverberated inside my head.
I had to make him leave. It was too early to call Bianca to come and get her cousin. Of course I could just send him home in a ride service like I had planned to, but he had minions at his beck and call and he didn’t need one. He could wear his trousers and jacket. His shirt and briefs were in the washing machine. I doubted he would miss them.
But he had to want to leave. I just had to be more decisive.
With renewed resolve, I exited the bathroom. Dom was lounging in the living room, flipping through channels.
He was still naked, thankfully, with a towel draped on his lap. I wasn’t joking when I said I’d become acquainted with every part of the human anatomy, that it had become routine. Sometimes I didn’t register that a patient was naked. I could attest that it was the reason my libido had been nonexistent. Nothing turned me on because I saw naked people frequently, so my attraction to Dom was troubling.
“I’ll call you a ride.”
His gaze flicked to me and he gave me a lazy head-to-toe appraisal. My hair was wet, and I’d twisted it up with a claw clip and all I had were scrubs in the bathroom.
“No need.”
“Someone’s coming to get you?”
“Your fridge is empty. I’m starving.”
“Dom!”
“What?”
“You can’t just bulldoze your way into my life and disrupt my plans.”
He raised the remote and flipped through the channels. “What are your plans for later?”
“I have to pick up a cat and I’ve got errands to run.” And I had no idea why I told him.
“Hmm…not too fond of cats. They shed.”
“Well, luckily, it’s not your problem.” I crossed my arms. Exasperation with this man was zooming to a whole new level. It would be another three hours before I could whine to Bianca. Seven a.m. sounded reasonable enough, right? Except I had to remember I was the person who made shit happen.
Dom was a mere aberration.
“Look. I’m all out of juice. My clinical rotation lasted ten hours, and I had to do Grigori’s job. Can you please have someone pick you up?”
His face changed, softening, and that sent a different kind of fluttering in my stomach. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.”
He was apologizing? I should be suspicious, but there was a thoughtful and sincere expression on his face. Up to this point in our interactions, Dom always put me on the defensive. Our first encounter was him waving a copy of my pitiful finances in front of my face. I held that grudge and still despised him for it.
“Go on and sleep,” he said. “I got this.”
“Dom…”
“I’ll call someone.”
Thank God.
“There’s water in the fridge,” I offered.
“Thank you.”
And I considered that a win and retreated into my bedroom, closed the door, and locked it.
An alarm blasted me awake.
It wasn’t my phone, but my smoke detector. An odor of something burnt invaded my nostrils. Panicked, I jumped out of bed and raced out of the room.
Smoke billowing out of the kitchen catapulted my heart into my throat, but when I stepped into the kitchen, confusion hit me.
A man in gray sweatpants and a white tee was fumbling through the drawers while a roaring fire burned in a pan. His broad back was to me and he was barefoot.
“Dom?” The events of the night came crashing back.
He turned and shot me a grin. “Hang on a sec, baby.”
Hang on… What the hell is baby?
“You’ve got exactly two seconds to explain—”
He found a lid and, cool as you please, dropped it on the angry flame, effectively killing it.
“Make that smoke detector stop screaming.” He handed me a kitchen towel.
Infuriated, I grabbed the towel and marched to the alarm that screeched me awake. I also opened a window before stomping back into the kitchen.
“You gotta have better pans,” he muttered as he scraped what looked like charred bacon into the trash.
“I don’t cook.”
“Obviously.”
“What are you still doing here?”
“Let me get breakfast ready.”
He opened my fridge to get more bacon out. My mouth gaped. Eggs, yogurt, milk, and other groceries filled its depth. I was living in an alternate universe. My usually empty fridge was filled to the brim with food. When did he do this?
“Why don’t you pour us coffee?” The only decent appliance in the kitchen was my coffeemaker. The microwave and toaster oven belonged to Mom. Like I told Dom, I rarely cooked. Since I lived alone, I didn’t feel the need to mess up my kitchen since New Jersey had a fantastic street food scene.
“You don’t have to cook me anything. I rarely eat breakfast.” Coffee was needed for this conversation.
“Call it brunch, then.”
I poured us each a mug of brew. “I don’t think…”
He shot me a quick, pointed glance. “I would appreciate it if you threw on a robe or I might…” He cut himself off before adding, “Just…put something on.”
Mortification crept up my neck as I was made aware of my state of undress. I’d just given Dom an eyeful of shadowed nipples.
“Fuck.” I retreated to the bedroom, with the coffee sloshing all over my hand. I went to the dresser and pulled on clean panties and sweatpants. Exhaustion had caught up with me last night. I stripped off the scrubs I had on and threw on a negligee and fell into bed. I didn’t even remember tossing and turning and fell promptly into a deep sleep. Somehow even with Dom in my apartment, I felt safe enough to relax after the night I’d had dealing with the Russians. But this morning, finding out he still hadn’t left, I armored up with a bra and a thick sweatshirt. I took one look at the mirror and was satisfied I was back to my shapeless self.
Squaring my shoulders, I left the room. Dom had set up bacon and eggs and a whole plethora of breakfast breads.
“Not as good as Jabbin’ Java’s.” He nodded to the croissants.
“Are we going to pretend that you being here is normal?”
“At least sit down and eat and we can talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Dom. You filled my fridge with food and cooked me breakfast. You’re thankful I stopped the bleeding and helped you out last night. We’re even, okay?”
Dom narrowed an assessing gaze at me. I could see him contemplating tactics. “Please sit and enjoy breakfast. I’m sure you’re hungry and not thinking clearly.”
“Don’t gaslight me.”
“For fuck’s sake.” His veneer of calm cracked. “I’m losing patience with your denial. We don’t have to be anything, but I acknowledge that I was overbearing yesterday and…” He stopped at my arched brow. “Right, I’ve been more than overbearing, bordering on rude arrogance and cockiness and it’s not the way to…” He let out a deep breath of what sounded like surrender as he sagged into his chair. “Please sit.”
I sat. It was a novelty to see him in full-blown frustration instead of me.
“I’m attracted to you. I admit it was more of a curiosity in the beginning for a woman who seemed to want to hide her looks beneath hideous outfits.”
I was about to object but it was Dom’s turn to raise a brow. There was no use denying it.
“And I get it,” he continued. “We’re a nefarious immoral bunch and not to be trusted, and the only reason no one has snatched you yet is because Sandro declared to us you are a friend of the family. You won’t get trouble from the Italians, but the Russians are a concern.”
“That’s not your concern, is it?”
“It’s my concern if I want to fuck you. In case you missed the part where I’m attracted to you.”
“I can’t afford to get mixed up with you.”
Dom nodded. “I know. I can’t afford it either.”
“So, are you talking about simply hooking up?”
“Something like that.”
His gaze lowered to the breakfast spread. “You’re not eating. You want something else?”
“I’m not picky with food.” I picked up a croissant and bit into it. “I eat when I can and I eat whatever.”
“Say yes, Sloane.”
“To be your fuck buddy?”
He paused, as if testing the words in his head. “That might be jumping ahead. How about we see how the weekend turns out first?”
I had to grin. Typical male with commitment issues.
“So, do we just get naked on this table and go for it?”
His eyes darkened. “If you want.”
“I have standards.”
“I don’t date. I don’t do romance.”
“Wow, you really tell it like it is.”
“I don’t want there to be any misconception or expectations of what I’m capable of giving.”
“Just orgasms, then?”
His eyes gleamed, and he shifted in his chair. “I’ll give you all the orgasms you want,” he said thickly.
I raised my mug and smiled into my coffee. This was proving to be fun.
“Like I said, I have standards.” I cleared my throat.
“Like what?”
“I need to at least like a person I have sex with.”
“I can be likable.”
“And I’ll need you to get along with Ginger.”
“Who the fuck is Ginger?”
