Page 83 of The Club

“Then let’s move.”

Dominic gets up and grabs the containers of mouse and some spoons. He sets them on the quilted leather coffee table that doubles as a footstool. He plunks down on the black leather couch. Something about the way he opens his body on the side closest to me, his arm on the back of the couch, his eyes expectant, has me lying down instead of sitting. The way he pulls me toward him until my head is in his lap feels so fucking right. I sigh and relax as his hand settles on my chest.

After a while, he asks, “Are you in love with Dante?”

“No.”

He looks down at me, frowning slightly. “But you’ve had sex with him.”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

I sigh and sit up. I draw up one leg and hook my arm around it. Dominic’s frown deepens. He doesn’t like my body language. He doesn’t like that I’m not answering.

But this is hard to talk about. Even Dante and I have never talked about it. I’m not sure we ever will.

“We … started. Once. It didn’t go well.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I ended up crying on the floor and he threw up,” I answer sharply. “But before we got to that point, we almost fucking killed each other.”

Dominic’s frown deepens. “Because you wouldn’t yield to him?”

“Icouldn’t. Shit with Dante didn’t work.Aspectsof it were right.Somethings about us fit. But itdidn’t work. It didn’t feel right because …”

“What?” Dominic prompts. “What are you thinking?”

“I just realized something from talking about this.” I shake my head. The truth feels so weird and surprising but somehow, now, obvious. “I was never myself with him. It didn’t stand out to me because I don’t think I’ve ever been myself, not fully, not deeply, withanyone—until you.”

Dominic’s face shows just how hard that hits him, how much that means to him. He blinks a few times.

“So will you stop being jealous?” I ask. “Because I don’t want to be with anyone but you.Ever.”

“Fuck,” Dominic gasps. He starts pulling at me even as I’m crawling back to where I started with my head in his lap.

I turn onto my side, so I can hang onto his leg. He holds onto me too.

TWENTY-SIX

Dominic

We’re in a strange sort of peace right now. Rafael is stuck here—because I won’t let him leave—and I’m not leaving until we have some indication of where all of this is going to go.

I worked from home today, which meant spending a lot of time on the phone with various project managers, and so did Rafael. His work was simpler and looked like a lot more fun because he was researching prospective future entertainers for Lush.

We haven’t had sex yet, partly because I know he was sore, partly because we both needed a break. But this whole day has been like one long foreplay.

I’ve never been much for touching people, but Ihaveto touch him. Every time he walks by. Every time we take a work break.

He touches me too.

Neck.

Back.

Abdomen.

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