Page 105 of PS: I Hate You

On the floor of his closet, tucked back in the corner, I spy a small safe with a number keypad.

Thesafe.

Dom never sent me a message about changing the combination. I settle cross-legged in front of it, under the cedar-scented shirts, feeling for a moment like I’m about to rifle through his private things. But then I remind myself they’remythings, too.

Reaching out, I type in four numbers.

0-7-1-8

The handle clicks and when I grasp it, I’m able to swing the door open.

My birthday. Why is it my birthday?

Inside there’s Dom’s passport and other documents I don’t care about. My attention is all for a stack of envelopes, most of them with ragged edges from where we tore them to get at Josh’s words.

“Hey, Josh,” I whisper, reaching out to tap the missives as if they were my brother’s shoulder and I only wanted to get his attention.

“You looking to rob me?”

I jump, then glance behind me to find Dom leaning a shoulder against the doorway, wearing a half smile as he watches me snoop.

“Of course.” I swing the safe shut, waiting until I hear the click of the lock before I turn fully around to face him. “But a good cat burglar always seduces her prey first.” I tug on the robe’s belt until it gapes open, then spread my knees in invitation.

Dom’s lids lower as he drags his gaze over my bare body. “Youaregood.” He stalks across the room, switching our roles until I feel like the prey. In a smooth move, Dom lifts me off the floor and drops me on the edge of his bed. A breath later his face finds a home between my thighs, and I focus on my controlled breathing as he eats the snack I promised him while my fingers tangle in his silky dark hair.

For the rest of the night Dom and I reacquaint ourselves with each other’s bodies, only pausing when a pizza delivery arrives, and then again when he announces that we need to get some sleep. I pretend as though I plan to walk down the hall to the “broken” guest room, but only because I love the way Dom growls and hooks me around the hips to tug me back into bed beside him.

When I wake up in the morning to Dom’s irritating alarm, my sleep shirt feels overly tight and I realize it’s because his hand is fisted in the material, the guy maintaining an unrelenting grip even as he sleeps, which is both annoying and endearing.

Dom takes me in the shower with my hands pressed against the slick tiles and his hips pressing against my ass. I keep my breathing steady by inhaling in time with his slow thrusts, and when I come first, he promises to follow me, praising how I take him so well.

Our shower goes longer than planned, which fucks with Dom’s schedule. But he only smiles and continues to touch me after I towel off until I have to laughingly swat his hands away so I can put on my dress without interference.

My outfit is a simple sundress, just some flowy green fabric with burnt orange flowers. But Dom seems fascinated with the bows that hold up the straps, his fingers smoothing over them as I try to wrangle my hair into a braid crown.

Dom looks handsome enough to model whatever his secret cedar cologne is, of course. His gray pants fit him indecently well, and he’s paired them with a short-sleeve white button-up that brings out the subtle tan notes in his skin.

The whole morning and process of getting ready together felt flirty and fun.

The mood changes on our drive to the campus when I ask a simple yet obvious question.

“What should we say to your family?”

Dom’s fingers tighten on my hand that he’s claimed once more.

“What do you want to tell them?” He keeps his eyes on the road.

I smooth my skirt over my legs. “I’m not super interested in explaining the concept of hookup buddies to the rest of the Perrys.”

Dom doesn’t respond, but he’s also switching lanes in heavy traffic, so I don’t blame his divided focus.

I clear my throat and say what I brainstormed on the cross-country flight. “We’ll just say we’re friends. Friendly. That we’ve learned how to get along while traveling together. And you offered me your broken guest room when I said I wanted to come to the graduation.” I throw a teasing smile at Dom, but I can’t read his stoic face.

“If that’s what you want,” Dom says after taking our exit.

I nod. “Less questions and weirdness this way.”

Less of the Perrys wondering why Dom would choose me. Less of me being compared to the date he brought to the twins’ last graduation.