Page 61 of Devious Love
Once in my room, I turn off the light and climb under my comforter. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. I’ve kept this to myself for almost an entire year, only for him to recognize my tattoo and put two and two together in the blink of an eye.
The tiniest spark of hope ignites inside me, even while I’m overwhelmed with dread. Because if he recognized it that quickly, I can’t help but wonder if he’s been thinking about that night as much as I have.
I huff out a breath. It’s time to push those thoughts from my mind. I won’t let this make me spiral out of control.
I’ve just plucked my Kindle off my nightstand when a series of sharp knocks startles me.
Heart thudding, I climb out of bed and pad to the door. My hand trembles as I grasp the knob, but I stand tall. In the hallway, Dominic looms, his jaw tight, his chest rising and fallingfast. His focus is fixed on me, the glint in his eyes dark and stormy.
I lick my lips and swallow past the lump in my throat. “Why are you here?”
Without a word, he pushes into my room. When he closes the door, it’s like all the oxygen has been sucked from the space. My heart beats violently against my rib cage, and blood roars in my ears.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, voice low and gruff.
I grip my biceps, tightening my hold on myself. “Would it have changed anything?”
Nostrils flaring, he looks away and stuffs his hands into his pockets. Like this, so tall, his expression dark, he’s intimidating. I take the tiniest step away, my self-preservation instincts kicking in.
It’s a mistake, because his gaze instantly snaps to me. He chews on his cheek, rocking back and forth on his heels.
“How did you even get there? You were in Phoenix. You never visited, never?—”
“Except last Halloween. The day after my eighteenth birthday, I flew home. Wanted to surprise my mom and Matt.” I explain how I ended up at the party, and when I reach the part when he approached me at Romero’s house, I fall silent.
He clenches his jaw, eyeing me from under furrowed brows. “Did you know it was me when we went upstairs?”
I shake my head. “I hadn’t seen you in years. It was dark and loud, and I was drinking. I didn’t recognize you.”
“How did you find out?”
Nerves dance up my spine. “Because of Matt. After…” My eyes dart away, but I force myself to focus on him again. “When we came downstairs, he was waiting for you with his mask off.” I exhale sharply. “So I took off. But even then, I thought it was justa stupid coincidence I’d hooked up with his friend, but then he called you by your last name, and you took off the mask…”
I press my lips together. He doesn’t speak, and he doesn’t look away, clearly waiting for me to finish.
“It was the final nail in my coffin, so I bolted. I found Chiara, went back to the hotel, got online, and changed my departure date. I flew back the next morning. I didn’t tell her why I left, but she promised she wouldn’t tell anyone I was in Monterey. My dad kept it to himself too.”
Dominic paces to the window, roughing a hand over his buzzed head. The air in the room thickens, the tension between us pulling taut.
Without looking away, I shuffle closer to my bed. I remain silent, giving him time to process. It wasn’t easy for me to come to terms with what we’d done, so I can imagine it won’t be easy for him either, but the frantic way he moves is concerning.
Suddenly, he stops and whips around. “Why did you hide it? You could’ve said something when you moved home.”
“Are you for real?” I snort. “Can you imagine that conversation? ‘Hey, Dom, remember the girl dressed as Alice from that Halloween party last year? The one you fucked on the washing machine at Romero’s house? Well, it was me.’” I tilt my head, scoffing. “Yeah, that would’ve gone over so well.”
In two strides, he’s in front of me. I don’t move, and I don’t look away, but my breath hitches. He zeroes in on my parted lips, and instantly, I’m drowning. Being the subject of his attention like this is intoxicating.
“I’ve spent almost a year thinking about that night,” he tells me.
My heart gallops. “Me too.”
He lifts his hand like he’s going to touch my face, but he stops himself an inch from my cheek. His fingers tremble, heatradiating from his palm. The fluttery feeling in my stomach means only one thing: the butterflies are back.
“Almost a year thinking about her…” His voice cracks. “About you…”
“Me too,” I confess in a whisper.
He drops his hand, and my heart sinks with it. Just when I’m certain he’s going to step back and walk away, he shocks the hell out of me by angling in. His lips hover over mine, and on pure instinct, I sway toward him too. I shudder when his hot breath ghosts over my skin. He cups the back of my neck and threads his fingers through my hair, tilting my head up.
