Page 64 of Swept for Forever
That worked. It even earned me some sympathy.
Besides, I reassured her that I was doing light training here.God, when did I become such a good liar?
On the bright side, my calf wound had healed enough to set me loose again, confirmed by the doctor at yesterday’s check-up.
But I still hadn’t packed up. And Dom hadn’t exactly been shoving me toward the exit either. Though technically, we still slept in separate rooms.
While I was enjoying a little freedom with my own rental car, thanks to Mom’s surprise funds, Dom had finally sealed the deal on his house. This afternoon, he dragged me into helping him with the most important decision of all. Paint colors.
The place was still pretty bare, just a few pieces of furniture he’d had time to pick out. But somehow, I found myself sitting cross-legged on his living room floor, surrounded by color swatches, as if I had any real say in it.
“Green,” I declared, tapping my finger on the sample. “Not a dirty green. A bold, mossy color.”
Dom huffed a laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. I think cream or ivory would be better.”
I scoffed. “Dom, we’re not in California.”
He smirked. “No?”
“No,” I said firmly. “But here’s an idea. A compromise, maybe. Moss green goes well with ivory.Warmivory.”
“Not sure about that.”
“Wanna bet?”
His gaze flickered before he moved—fast. One second, I was sitting there, and the next, he had me pinned beneath him on the floor, his hands finding my sides in a ruthless, tickling attack.
I shrieked. “Dom, stop! I take it back!”
“Say it,” he teased, his fingers relentless. “Say cream is the superior color.”
“Never,” I gasped between laughter, writhing to escape.
His grin turned wicked. “Then I guess we settle this the old-fashioned way.”
With that, he peeled off his T-shirt and tossed it aside.
I froze.
We had been cozying up plenty and kissing enough that it didn’t feel casual anymore, but I hadn’t actually seen him like this.
Holy hell.
Montana wasn’t Florida or California. Montanan men didn’t just walk around topless. At least, I assumed they didn’t. Same with Idaho men. But Dom?
Dom was something else entirely.
I’d grown up around pool boys—lean, all smooth skin and polished muscle, and built to sell sunscreen. But Dom? He belonged in another category entirely. His was a body earned, not sculpted. No wonder he’d carried me and his pack without breaking stride.
And the hair—God, the hair. On his chest and just enough below. It shouldn’t have done things to me, but it did. Something no one had ever told me I was allowed to want.
It definitely highlighted my lack of variety.
I swallowed, suddenly parched.
He arched a brow. “What’s wrong? You look a little…distracted.”
“Distracted?” I croaked. “Pfft. No. I’m just—” My voice cracked as I gestured vaguely at his torso. “Why are you built like that?”
