Page 81 of 4th Degree

A small but pleased smile appears on Dominic’s face. “Okay, then. We’ll start easy: what’s one little thing you’d like to do?”

The usual guilt and vulnerability trickles back. “I feel selfish saying anything because I already get to train at the gym?—”

“And people get to have more than one thing that they love, Skylar,” Dominic interrupts. “So pick something that isn’t getting twisted into a pretzel by people who are trying to kill you.”

A smile comes unbidden to my lips, softening me enough to answer honestly. “Going to the movies. I… I never have enough time to just sit in a theater and waste two hours watching a mindless action movie.”

Dominic lets out an approving hum. “And how hard would it be to catch a matinee and go into work a little bit later than usual?”

“Not that hard, but?—”

“What specifically would happen if you worked two less hours?” His hard look demands a real answer.

Thoughts and figures fly through my head. It would mean less money, obviously, but if I force myself to really think about it, I have to acknowledge that I’ve managed to create a sophisticated enough system that I’m not quite living paycheck to paycheck. Technically, two hours wouldn’t make or break the bank.

He must know I’m not going to tell him out loud that he’s right. “How about this: set a goal to go to the movies once a month. Doesn’t even have to be with someone else, I just want you to put a movie afternoon into that carefully curated schedule of yours. Deal?” I nod my assent, stomach fluttering at his thoughtfulness.

Then his expression sobers. “What about a big goal?” he asks, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my ankle. “I want to know what kinds of hopes and dreams you have, baby.”

Although I suck in a big, stuttering breath before I can speak, this answer comes easier. “I want to be a doctor,” I whisper.

“Not a nurse?” His eyes search mine, head tilting slightly as he listens intently.

“I’d love to be a nurse,” I say. “I’d be happy to be a nurse. But…after everything with my parents…if I could pick, I’d really want to be a neurologist.”

Dominic never looks away from me. I watch him catalogue every reaction that flits over my face, every thought that flashes in my eyes. “Do you ever imagine yourself as a doctor? When you think about the future?” I shake my head. “You should. You work hard and you’re more than smart enough for it. Don’t you think you should visualize the things you truly want?”

“Visualizing isn’t going to change anything,” I mumble. “The bottom line is, it’s completely unattainable. I don’t have the money for medical school.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Skylar.” He crooks a finger at me and leans in as I do. When I’m close enough, he whispers, “No one has the money for medical school. That’s why everyone graduates with a mountain of debt.”

I huff a laugh and lean back. “Okay, touché. Still not a great financial decision, though.”

Dominic shrugs. “Medical school is never a good financial decision. Until you become a successful neurologist and make double that in salary.”

I chew on my lip as I digest what he’s saying. That’s pretty much the norm for a doctorate financial landscape.

He sees the victory in my eyes. “See? You know I’m right. So you shouldn’t feel bad about wanting it.”

I nod, my answer sounding breathless even to my ears. “Okay.”

That smile returns to his face, and with it, I melt all over again. Sitting here with him, his hands on my body, I’m content. I feel like I’m right where I need to be—both physically and emotionally.

“I really did have a nice time today,” I whisper. “Thank you for taking me out.”

“You’re welcome.” He breaks our eye contact, but only because his gaze drops to my lips. And I can tell he doesn’t want to be the one to disrupt this serious moment between us, but all I can think about is how much affection I feel for this man.

Leaning forward, I press my lips to his. “You’re a good man, Dominic,” I whisper against him.

And then there’s no more talking.

29

SKYLAR

He tugs me into his lap, his mouth never leaving mine. It’s like he wants to eliminate every last inch between us. When his tongue slides over the seam of my lips to silently demand entry, he tilts my head to deepen the kiss. I moan at the taste of him and wrap my arms around his neck—it’s like a switch has been flipped, and we suddenly need as much of the other as we can possibly get.

As my hips start to rock against him, I can feel him hardening between my legs, and I can’t stop from pressing against it through our jeans. Ripping his lips from mine with a muttered curse, he stands, with me still in his arms.

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