Page 46 of The Fate Philosophy

I’d asked Jeremy once if he would tie me up, and he blatantly declined. He not only rejected the idea, but he had seemed outright disturbed that I had the gall to ask. I remember feeling thankful that I hadn’t disclosed to him any of my other wants. That I hadn’t explained to him how much I liked that lack of control, how hard it was to give that trust over to another person and how rewarding it felt when they could take that power and create pleasure with it.

My cheeks blazed at the memory of disclosing all of that to Dom. Of actually engaging in those acts with him. I’d wanted it–enjoyed it. So much. Maybe too much.

That’s how we’d gotten here. How I ended up waking next to Dominic-fucking-Evans in my bed.

I wanted him beyond reason. I think a part of me has always known that he’s exactly the type of man who can give me what I crave. After the past few weeks being around him more often than ever before, I think a part of me realized that he might be the kind of man who would actually enjoy the same things I do. And when my desire began to over power my common sense, I became a weak, weak bitch.

I sat up slowly, sighing as my face fell into my hands. I could hear the faint clinking of items in the house, telling me Dom was still here. Something that felt like guilt and fear swirled inside my stomach, halting me from getting out of bed. I was afraid to see him. I was afraid to address what we’d done last night.

My breath got caught in my throat as thoughts tumbled through my head like a rockslide.

I can’t do this again.

Not only did I truly hardly know Dominic, but he was my best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend. There are far too many nouns in that description for any part of us to make sense. There was no way that Dom and I doing whatever it was we did last night wasn’t going to affect the dynamic of our mutual friendships.

More than that, Carter was my roommate, and my landlord. I didn’t want to believe that Carter would hold anything against me, but I couldn’t be sure. If things ended badly between Dom and I, there was no way of knowing which side Carter would choose. Even if Penelope would always choose mine, I could end up homeless. Plus, there was no telling how a blow out between Dom and I would affect Carter and Penelope’s relationship.

The reasons kept coming, pouring through my brain and behind my eyes until it felt like they were flowing out of my ears. I had to go talk to Dom right now.

I had to explain to him why I would never have sex with him again.

Despite it being the most mind-blowing sex of my entire life, a thought I’d have to try and ignore for the rest of time, apparently. Whatever was happening between us wouldn’t last. Feelings like this for me never did. Even when I tried to hold onto a relationship far beyond its expiration date, I couldn’t ignore that there would always be one.

Maybe someday I’d meet someone that wouldn’t grow tired of me. I’d find that something that was endless and infinite. A relationship with no expiration.

But Dominic Evans wasn’t that.

I got out of bed and decided to put on my big girl panties. My literal Big Girl Panties. They had little dragons all over them. I bought Penelope a pair for her birthday because they reminded me of Daenerys Targaryen. The baddest of all bad bitches. I loved them so much that I bought myself a pair, too. Penelope and I tended to wear them for days that made us nervous. Like presentations and job interviews and apparently telling people we really enjoyed having sex with that we could never have sex with them again.

Because that’s what Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons, would do. Well, maybe not. She’s probably not someone I’d take sex advice from, actually.

Regardless, this conversation needed to be had.

I pulled on a pair of cotton shorts over my Big Girl Panties, and threw on a Portland State t-shirt that I found piled on the floor. With a very reluctant sigh, I opened my bedroom door and padded into the kitchen.

Dom had his back turned to me. I came face-to-face with the defined muscles of his shoulders and the way they rippled with the movement of his arms. My mouth dried out at the sight of the dimples on his low back, just above the obscenely low-riding joggers he was wearing. He must’ve stolen them from Carter.

My approaching footsteps gave me away as he turned around. He drank in my disheveled hair, the clothes I was wearing, and I caught his eyes lingering on the faint bite mark at the base of my neck and shoulder, which I thought my sweatshirt would cover. I tossed my hair in front of my shoulders to hide it as a slow smile crept across his face.

“You made eggs,” I observed.

“You know it, baby.” He winked before turning back to the stove. “I didn’t answer your question before,” he said, plating half the eggs he made before turning back around and sliding them across the counter toward me. “The last time I made you eggs you asked if they were a before-sex or after-sex thing.”

I stared blankly at the plate, my ears still ringing on the wordbaby. I couldn’t eat these eggs. It wasn’t right to eat a guy’s eggs and then tell him you’ll never have sex with him again. I also felt like I couldn’t just kick him out, either.

“Mace?”

I blinked up at him, realizing I’d just been staring at my plate. “What?”

“I said, I didn’t answer your question before, a couple weeks ago when you asked.” He flipped off the stove and threw a kitchen towel over his bare shoulder. “Only the really special girls get my eggs after sex, and you’re the only person who's ever gotten them before sex.” His eyelashes fluttered and he lightly bit his lip, looking almost bashful. “You can have my eggs any time you want.”

My heart dropped to the floor, and began to race around like a wind-up toy. I didn’t think it was possible for any person to make another person react this way to a conversation about eggs, but somehow, Dominic-fucking-Evans was doing that to me. He made me want to dissect all of his sentences, his looks, and his mannerisms until I understood what they really meant. But it doesn’t matter, anyway. We’re barely friends, and I’m not in a place to handle anything else. Not when he makes me feel this way.

Suddenly, my lip was beginning to tremble and I couldn’t look at him. I looked down, but didn’t want to see the eggs he made me either. “Dom.” I sighed. I didn’t want to see the frown I knew was on his face. I rested my elbows on the counter and let my head fall between my hands. “Last night…” I inhaled deeply. “Last night cannot happen again.”

My gaze was cast down, but I could’ve sworn I heard him stumble back a step. I glanced up, and briefly saw his eyes wide with shock, and his hands frozen on that towel over his shoulder. Less than a second later, his face relaxed slightly, and he dropped the towel onto the counter. He immediately began putting food away, before standing over the sink and cleaning the dishes he’d used to make breakfast.

“I’m sorry.” His back was turned to me. “I didn’t realize that I had…” He trailed off. “That you were…” He cleared his throat. “Uncomfortable.”

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