Page 60 of The Fate Philosophy

Dom’s beautiful brown eyes narrowed. His face twisted in disgust. Disgust at Jeremy, or disgust at the visual image I just crafted, I wasn’t sure.

“I think I mostly just kept it to piss him off. To not allow him to get to me. But now it just reminds me of him. Of how he made me feel about myself.” I chewed on my lip and glanced at Dom. “I should probably get it removed.”

Dom’s face was solemn for a moment. Then suddenly, he launched up from his seated position against my headboard and tore the sheets off my body entirely. He shrugged down the bed, flipping over onto his hands and knees. I turned my head and watched him with a bemused expression.

As he reached my now exposed backside, he placed a hand on either side of my hips, bringing his mouth to my lower back. To that tattoo. “I like it,” he rasped, pressing his lips to the skin around it. Lower. He playfully swatted my ass before sliding back up my body and flipping me over so that I laid on my back, staring up at him. He brushed a rogue hair away from my face and brought his lips to my collar bone. “So, how about from now on, we make sure that tattoo only makes you think of me? And everytimeIfuck you from behind, you’ll be reminded of the wayImake you feel.”

He kissed my skin softly, before rising up to look at me. All I could do was nod.

He lifted off me once more and climbed out of my bed. “Eggs?” he asked.

I groaned. “We have sex far too often for you to expect me to eat eggs every time we do it. You’re going to need to start cooking something else.”

I felt his laugh inside my stomach. “Fine. What would you like, baby girl?”

I felt those words in my stomach too. He was so casual about his affection with me, that it was an effort to remind myself that this—us—wascasual. This was just the way he acted, probably around most people he cared for. Friends. I forced myself not to overthink it, not to show the effect it had on me.

“Cereal?”

He balked. “You’d rather eatcerealthan my eggs?”

I gave him a coy smile and a nod.

He only fluttered his lashes, something like adoration on his face, as he clicked his tongue at me and sauntered out of my bedroom.

That’s what the last week had been for us. Waking up together, either in my bed or his. Breakfast. Then, going about our days. Sometimes together, other times on our own. I went with him to another open house. He came with me to restock on school supplies for my classroom for the coming term. He brought me to his house, let me watch him work on the renovations he’d been making. We went to the clinic and got tested together so that we could stop worrying about always having condoms on hand since I was on birth control, anyway. He taught me—well, tried to teach me—how to cook. At night, we’d end up back at one of our apartments, we'd have dinner. Watch movies. Talk about ourselves. Ultimately falling asleep in each other’s arms. Sated and satisfied. And most of all, happy.

I felt happy with Dom.

I still felt like I was existing in a bubble. That holiday haze between Christmas and the New Year where you’re not working and the world feels peaceful. You hardly know what day it is, and best of all, you don’t need to.

I had no idea where this thing between us would go once I returned to work next week, once Penelope and Carter returned home in two days. I was sure we’d still hook up, when we could. But the spending of every day together, the bubble we’d sealed ourselves inside, it would burst. In some way or another, it would burst, and I wasn’t yet sure if it’d be good or bad.

So, we didn’t talk about it. We were content to enjoy the next two days we had together, and cross all other bridges when we reached them.

I lazily pulled myself out of bed, unwrapping my hair from Dom’s t-shirt, and then throwing one of his massive sweatshirts over my body before padding into the kitchen.

I couldn’t stop stealing his clothes, but he didn’t seem to mind.

His back was to me as he rinsed out dishes in the sink, but in front of my favorite stool was a bowl of cereal waiting for me. As he heard me slide into the seat, he turned around.

“Do you want to go to a New Years Eve party with me tonight?”

Right. It’s December thirty-first. I hadn’t even realized it. Which was so unlike me. I normally always found myself at some kind of New Year’s Eve party. But this year was different. I didn’t know anyone here, my only friend outside my roommates (and, well, I guess Dom now too) was Juan. He didn’t come off as the type of person who would enjoy New Year’s Eve, and even if he was, he wouldn’t invite me out with him anyway after what happened a few weeks ago.

Dom braced his arms on the counter. I realized I hadn’t answered. “It’s a work thing. They throw one every year. It’s black tie. Mostly wealthy old people. So, boring. But we invite a lot of clients and it’s a good way to make connections for the firm. I kind of have to go, but I have a feeling I’d have a much better time with you on my arm.” He flashed me that perfect grin again.

“I assume you’ll be paying for food, drinks, and transportation?”

He casually picked at his fingernails. “That’s a tall order, Mace. I normally don’t go that far unless a woman is willing to put out.”

“And what would you call the things I was doing to you last night? I didn’t put out enough then?”

He looked at me, his eyes glistening playfully. He didn’t respond as he prowled around the far side of the counter. He placed both arms on the back of my chair and leaned in until he took up the entirety of the space around me. He lowered his face into my neck and whispered against my ear. “There is only one word for the things you did to me last night, baby girl: filthy.” An involuntary whimper escaped my lips, and he chuckled against my skin. “Are you going to be my date tonight or not?”

“What do I get out of it?” I whispered, hardly able to form words.

“My friend, the event planner. She’ll be there. I still want to introduce you two.”

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