Page 33 of Restore Me

A jolt of electricity passes between us. Satisfaction swells in my chest, spurred by her repeating the nickname I gave her. “True, and I probably still will after you tell me what everyone else calls you.”

She leans back and extends her hand. “Sloane.”

Shaking her hand while the heat of her body is pressed against my erection is almost laughable, but the serious look on her face demands I do it anyway. Her hand is small and fits perfectly inside of my palm.

“I’m Dominic, but all of my friends call me Nic.”

Her head tilts to the side, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Does anyone ever call you Dom?”

I can’t stop looking at her mouth. “Nope, not until now.”

The statement wins me another brilliant smile that hits me right in the chest and makes me wonder how I went through my entire life without this impossibly perfect girl looking at me like her shadows were made for mine.

“Good.” She slurs, leaning in closer until her lips are hovering over mine and her breasts are grazing my chest. “Do you want to know what’s on my list, Dom?”

“Yes.”

“Number One: Get drunk for the first time. Check. Number Two: Wear a dress short enough to make a stripper blush and go to a party. Check. Number Three: Shake my ass for the sexiest guy at the party.” An adorable, but undeniably drunken, hiccup escapes her as she wiggles her brows at me. “Number four: Go home with that guy and spend the night in his bed doing everything but sleeping.”

“Sloane—”

“Do you want to dance with me?”

Everything in me is telling me to walk away right now, to run from her like I did earlier because her drunken recitation of the running list in her head proves that my instincts about her being a source of disruption in my life were spot on. Still, I can’t bring myself to move. I’m too intrigued by her and the tangle of emotions swelling in my chest just from being close to her.

“Tell me one thing first.”

Sloane blinks several times to focus. Her eyes have that glassy look to them that indicates major alcohol consumption, and I wonder exactly how much she’s had to drink.

“What do you want to know?”

“Can’t you just tell whoever pissed you off to go screw themselves?”

Her brows dip together. “What do you mean?”

“This list isn’t about you. It’s about proving something to someone else, so why don’t you just tell them to go screw themselves and move on with your life?”

“She’d just see it as confirmation that she’s been right about me all along. Her twisted mind will find a way to make her the victim even though she called her own daughter an ungrateful little bitch and a constant source of disappointment.”

She says the last bit with practiced indifference, trying to make it seem like she doesn’t care, but I see it for what it is: the source of her shadows, the reason for the restless flame that called to me before. And it sends anger slicing through me on her behalf. The idea that anyone could treat her that way makes me want to rip the world apart with my bare hands. My body tenses. Not just at the thought, but at the realization, I would do that for her.

“Your mom said that?”

“Among other things, but please don’t feel bad for me. I should have given up trying to please her a long time ago. Now, are you going to dance with me or should I find someone else to help me check off the last two items on my list for tonight?”

I lift an un-amused brow at her, and she blushes as I stand with her in my arms. “Don’t tease me, Sloane.”

Both of her legs wrap around my waist, nestling the heat of her right along my abs. We stare at each other for a beat, and then our lips crash together in a fierce entanglement that’s all lips, tongues, and teeth and punctuated by a feral groan that takes my brain a full second to realize belongs to me. Sloane giggles against my lips, and the sound of her laughter being swallowed by my mouth is so intimate, so exquisite my heart starts trying to beat itself right out of my chest.

“More, Dom.” Sloane moans into my mouth. “I need more.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

I want more too. I want to peel this dress off of her body with my teeth. I want to kiss every inch of her bare skin and mark her with my scent. I want to taste her and tease her while she moans my name and leaves welts in my back because it all just feels so fucking good. But I can’t give her more. Not while we’re standing on the back porch of a frat house where anyone can see us.

And not while she’s drunk.

The image of Sloane tossing back drinks is like a bucket of ice water being poured down my back, sobering me up even though I haven’t had a drop of alcohol tonight. I pull back and look at her. She looks even more beautiful now with her lips swollen from my kisses and her eyes half-hooded with lust for me, but I can’t keep going. I shouldn’t have taken it this far when I knew she was drinking.

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