Page 125 of Restore Me

I finish off the last of my water. “Yes, it was nice to see you too, Chris.”

Dom stands up and lets Mal out of the booth. She gives me a wave and a half-apologetic look before blowing me a kiss and disappearing into the crowd with Chris chasing behind her. I stare after them in disbelief, my sluggish brain having a hard time processing what I’m seeing.

“Grab your stuff, angel.” Dom orders, the inky black depths of his eyes glittering with the promise of trouble if his command isn’t followed immediately. He extends his hand to me. “I’m taking you home.”

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39

Sloane

Now

I ignore his hand as I grab my purse and slide out of the booth, but that doesn’t stop him from placing it on the small of my back and ushering me out of the club like a drunken toddler, which, in all fairness, I kind of am. By the time we hit the parking lot, I’m teetering on my heels, the alcohol in my system making me struggle to stay upright. The fourth time I stumble, Dom swoops down and picks me up, and I immediately start to fight against his hold.

“You don’t need to carry me.”

He scoffs. “I’m not watching you break your neck in these ridiculous shoes.”

“Then look at something else!” I kick my legs, and his fingers dig into my thighs. “You don’t get to swoop in like some knight in shining armor, saving me from myself. I didn’t ask you to come here, and I certainly didn’t ask you to carry me around like a damn caveman, so put me down, Dominic!”

He makes a rough sound in the back of his throat, something like disbelief mixing with obvious frustration, but he keeps walking without saying a word. I fight him every step of the way, thrashing wildly against his body and swatting at his chest until the hem of my dress rides up my thighs. By the time we make it to the car, I’m exhausted and frustrated, but Dom looks no worse for wear. He deposits me in the passenger seat and reaches over me to latch my seat belt.

And I’m either too tired or too caught up in absorbing the strong line of his jaw—and the distracting way the muscle in it is jumping—to fight him off. But as his hands work at securing me in my seat, I don’t breathe a word. I don’t think I’m breathing at all because my lungs feel like they are on fire from the lack of oxygen.

The burn is preferable though. Better than inhaling his scent and letting the smooth, spiciness of his skin flood my altered senses. Dom turns to look at me, and his eyes are dark and full of shadows when they find mine.

“Wherever you are, is where I’ll be.” He says, a deep frown causing his brows to dip inward. “I’ll walk through Hell for you, angel. You should know that by now, but I guess you’re too busy healing from our apparent breakup to acknowledge all the ways I’ve shown you.”

He pulls away from me suddenly, slamming the passenger door so hard I jump. By the time he slides into the driver’s seat, I’ve recovered fully from his little speech and am glaring at him with a steady gaze that’s quite impressive for the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed.

“Are you going to break all of our rules before this is done?”

“What rules have I broken, angel?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not spelling it out for you.”

“You will if you want me to respond.”

“I don’t want anything from you, Dominic.” Except for your heart. I swallow the thought, not wanting him to know I’m desperate enough to take whatever scraps he has left to give, as long as there’s some piece of him that belongs to me. His gaze hardens, and I know it’s because I keep calling him by his whole name.

“Are we doing this again?”

“No, we’re not doing anything anymore.”

I turn to look out of the window, and Dom reverses out of the parking spot with a sigh. Soon we’re sailing down the empty streets of East New Haven towards my house.

“You’re not being fair, angel. I can’t fix this if I don’t know what the problem is.”

“Fine!” I throw my hands up in the air, hating how all of the pain from the last day has managed to bleed into the one word. “I’m upset, Dominic. Is that what you want to hear? I’m hurt because I had to find out, from James of all people, that you’ve had an exit plan in your back pocket this entire time. A one-way ticket out of New Haven and away from—”

“Andre is going to California,” he cuts in, the words balanced on the fine edge of a razor blade. “You would know that if you’d bothered to answer any of my phone calls today.”

“I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Right, because giving me a chance to explain would probably ruin your plan to push me out of your life for no damn reason.”

“Giving you the chance to….” I roll the words around in my mouth, tasting the bitter irony coating them, and laugh. “You don’t explain things, Dominic. You deflect. You distract. You get up and walk away even if it means breaking your promises.”

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