Page 104 of PS: I Hate You
Dom:Sour Patch Kids, Cheez-Its, and all the lavender lattes your heart desires.
Damn him.
Maddie:You know how to woo a lady. I’m in
Chapter
Thirty
Dom pulls his car up to the arrivals pickup at the Philadelphia airport and immediately jumps out of his SUV to help me with a bag I’m perfectly able to lift on my own. Which I tell him as I shoulder check him away from my suitcase.
He doesn’t fight me over loading it into the trunk, but when he closes the door, Dom immediately crowds me against the bumper. His hands cup my face, fingers digging into my lopsided I-just-spent-hours-on-an-airplane messy bun, and he tilts my chin up only to press a kiss on my nose rather than my mouth.
“You came,” he mutters, pressing another kiss just below my ear, unleashing a riot of goose bumps to overwhelm my body.
I cross my arms over my chest so he won’t see how hard my nipples are through my bralette. Dom’s eyes flick down to the defensive pose, then back up to meet my eyes. He frowns but doesn’t let me go.
“Something change?” he asks.
Oh. He thinks I’m not horny for his handsome jelly-tattooed ass?
“You want to have your snack, then you better take me back to your place.”
His eyes darken, his mouth curls, and a pleased rumble sounds in the back of his throat, which doesn’t help the nipple situation.
“You’re the boss.”
Then Dom steps back from me, and I straighten my glasses while pretending I don’t feel the loss of his looming presence. On the drive from the airport to Dom’s town house, he holds my hand and tells me about the schedule for the next day, which involves an earlier departure time to hopefully beat some of the commencement ceremony traffic. His parents are going to be there, and the twins, too, obviously.
I know we need to talk about how we’ll act around each other when we’re with the group, but I’d rather do that when I don’t smell like airplane food.
“I’m showering first thing when I get to your place,” I tell him.
Dom nods as he flicks on the turn signal. “I put extra towels in the master bathroom for you.”
That sounds like the bathroom connected to his room.
“You know you don’t have to share your bed with me. If you’ve got an extra room, I can stay there.”
The half of Dom’s face I can see frowns. “No.”
“No, you don’t have an extra room?” A “town house” sounds like it would have at least one guest bedroom.
“There’s an extra room,” he admits, voice full of reluctance. “But…it’s broken.”
“The room is broken?”
He nods. I fight a smile and manage a serious tone.
“An entire room in your house just…broke?”
He nods again as his thumb rubs my knuckles.
“Ah. Hate when that happens.”
Dom grunts as he parallel parks on a residential street, maneuvering the wheel one-handed, his forearm flexing in a visual display that I would label as porn. Dirty, lick-able, X-rated arm pornography.
A half hour later, after I’ve gotten the quick tour of the two-story home—which isn’t as minimalist as I expected, with its dark wood bookshelves and cushy sectional—I pop my contacts in and enjoy ashower in Dom’s massive bathroom. Clean and wrapped in a too-large robe he left me, I wander back into the bedroom to grab an outfit from my bag. While I have my suitcase open, I pull out the dress I plan to wear tomorrow and open Dom’s closet, hoping that hanging the fabric overnight will get rid of some of the travel wrinkles. When I have it situated on a hanger next to all of Dom’s crisp dress shirts, I notice something I should have expected to find here.