Page 73 of PS: I Hate You
I should’ve stopped after the first one, but I kept wanting to reach over and touch Dom in some soothing way. I needed to fill my hands and numb this sudden onslaught of affection.
Remember that time when hooking up with you was so bad, Dom proposed to another woman the next day?
But then he offered me his tiny bag of pretzels and my heart insisted that the salty treat solved everything and I should unbuckle, sit in his lap, and wrap my arms around him instead.
So, I drank. And now I’m in no state to make a mad dash dragging a suitcase while trying not to asphyxiate.
“They’re about to.” Dom points out the window and I see the walkway extending toward our plane. “We don’t need to run. The distance is doable. I’ll carry your suitcase. We’ll walk at a quick pace, and you’ll make it. Use your inhaler now.”
Fuck. Why is Dom doling out instructions suddenly so fucking hot? Normally, I want to push back on everything he says to prove he has no control over me. But now I find myself pulling my backpack out from under the seat in front of me, shaking my inhaler, taking a puff, and getting ready to follow him even if he leads me straight off a cliff.
Shit. Reading that file was a mistake.
Now I can’t avoid the knowledge that no matter how domineering Dominic gets, the control is always coming from a place of love. That the compulsion likely started when he was saddled with two baby brothers and given the task of being one of their primary caregivers.
Dom had a lot asked of him too early in life. Now he shows love by taking care of people.
And he’s trying to take care of me.
The man in question stands in the aisle now that the seat belt light is off. He slings the straps of his two bags over his shoulders, then heaves my suitcase out of the overhead. Because we’re in first class, there’s only one row of passengers in front of us.
“We’re catching a connection,” Dom says, meeting the eyes of the four businessmen who by all rights should be allowed to get off before us. They stay seated, cowed by Dom’s unrelenting stare.
This is when those six foot, too many extra inches come in handy.
There’s a pop and slight change in the air pressure. A flight attendant waves us forward, and Dom steps back for me to scramble out in front of him.
“It’s not a big deal,” I say over my shoulder as we hurry off the plane and up the walkway. “I can get a hotel room and fly out tomorrow morning.”
“I’m not leaving you here. Come on.” Once in the airport, Dom maneuvers in front of me to take the lead, his imposing body parting the sea of travelers.
An unexpected comforting sensation radiates up my arm, and I realize that when switching positions, Dom grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together.
The man is carrying both his bags, one of mine, and guiding me forward with an easy yet unrelenting grip. Though his long legs eat up the ground, I can tell he’s keeping to a pace I can manage. Accelerated, but I don’t have to jog.
“The suitcase has wheels,” I call to him over the crowd’s chatter and blare of announcements.
He’s still gripping my bag by the handle instead of dragging it at his side like everyone else around us.
“Wheels slow me down.”
I scoff and try to ignore how that arrogant statement made my lower belly clench. “How do wheels slow you down? Are you a hover car from the future? Or a ghost?”
“Stop using your air for snark,” he commands. “Use it for breathing.”
Has a woman ever wanted to both strangle and fondle a man so much?
As I’m left no other option than to breathe and follow Dom, my eyes have plenty of time to latch on to his backside and stay there.Admiring the accountant’s bubble butt is a surprisingly pleasant way to race through a crowded airport.
And, of course, with exactly two minutes to spare, my gate comes into view.
“Last call for Madeline Sanderson.” The announcement rings out.
“She’s here,” Dom booms, louder than the overhead speaker.
“Stop shouting before you get me arrested.” I swat his back like the ungrateful troll person I am.
But he only tugs me toward the counter, holding up the hand clutching my bag so the attendant will spot us if his thunderous announcement didn’t do the trick. His biceps strain at the move and I drool a little. The airline employee’s eyes go wide at Dom’s approach, and I watch her swallow hard.