Chapter Six
Dominic
When I open my eyes in the morning, Liza’s still deep in sleep. I gently push away some strands of hair that have fallen over her lovely face. She looks so peaceful, her relaxed mouth closed, the slanting morning sunlight on her eyelashes forming shadows in the shape of crescent moons on her cheeks. She breathes so softly, it seems like she’s holding her breath.
She was totally sexual every time we woke up during the night and reached for each other. I didn’t want to push into her again since it was her first time, so she suggested we try “other things.”
When I asked her where she learned all those other things, she primly said, “Just because I was a virgin until tonight doesn’t mean I’m ignorant. I’ve seen porn.”
A corner of my lips lifts at the memory. As much as I hate to leave, I climb out of bed and get dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. I need to feed her, and I only have a couple of eggs, ketchup, mustard and mayo in the fridge. She deserves more than that.
The grocery run doesn’t take long. I bring home two dozen eggs, cheese, berries, bacon, whipped cream cheese and assorted bagels and croissants. Fancier than what I normally eat, but Liza’s worth the splurge.
When I get home, Liza’s up. Her hair’s damp, and her face is scrubbed clean from a recent shower. Instead of the clothes from the night before, she’s put on one of my shirts. It hangs like a dress, and I like the way it looks on her way too much.
Mine.
She said she wants to call me that, and I want to reciprocate. It isn’t like me to be so possessive, but Liza’s showing me maybe I’ve been wrong about myself in more ways than one.
“Hope you don’t mind,” she says, gesturing at the shirt.
“Nope.”
“I put my dirty stuff in there.”
So that explains the glossy Gap bag on the counter.
“What did you get?” she says, pouring two glasses of OJ and eyeing the brown paper bag I’m holding.
“Some breakfast.” I rattle off what’s inside.
At the mention of bagel and cream cheese, her eyes sparkle. “Whipped?”
“Yup.”
“You’re my hero.” She takes a big sip of her juice.
I have some with her. “Need any aspirin or anything?”
“For what?”
“Post-coital soreness? A hangover?”
She shakes her head. “Nope. I feel fine.” Her grin widens. “Better than fine.”
After placing a kiss on her forehead—if I kiss her lips, we’ll never get to breakfast—I pull out a pan to fry the bacon, but she puts a hand on my forearm. “I’m not in the mood for it.”
“Not in the mood for bacon?” I raise both of my eyebrows. Any other girl, I might’ve thought diet, but not Liza. Girls on diets don’t drink the way she did. “What are you? An alien?”
She chuckles. “Is this going to be a problem?” She swings her hand back and forth between us.
I frown in feigned consideration. “I don’t know… Bacon rejection is pretty serious. You aren’t the woman I thought you were.”
Something crosses her eyes, but then she looks away. “You’re welcome to my bacon,” she says. “I just want a bagel.”
I let her pick her bagel first. I grabbed a bunch of different types since I don’t know what she likes—something I want to rectify. She takes an egg bagel, and I get a plain one.
I cut and toast them, hers first. After spreading a generous amount of cream cheese, she takes a big bite, then moans around the food.
The satisfied sound causes my dick to swell as though we didn’t roll around in bed for hours last night.
Five orgasms—a new record.
Right now, my half-hard cock says we should go for six.
She swallows. “I haven’t had a good bagel since I came home.”
“How come?” I want her fed before seducing her again.
“Mom’s not a fan of carbs.” Exasperation crosses her face. “She thinks they’ll make me blow up.”
“Pssh.” Liza is model slim with curves in all the right places. Her mother’s gotta be crazy to think she needs to watch her diet. “Eat what you like.”
Liza polishes off the last bite. “Seriously? You aren’t going to scream and run the other way if I blow up like…” She spreads her arms, elbows straight.
“More of you to kiss and lick.”
Her eyes sparkle. “That’s nice. And such a smooth line.”
“It’s not a line.”
And it’s actually not. I mean it. I’ve had beautiful girls, awkward girls, confident girls, bratty girls, sweet girls, but none of them measure up to Liza. She has the power to make all other women fade away, and it has nothing to do with her weight or appearance. It’s something as fundamental and innate as the air we share.
If I were the woo-woo type, I would say it’s her soul.
Liza looks away for a moment, biting into her lip. There’s a fleeting sadness in her that comes and goes, and I don’t like it. I raise a hand, trace the curve of her cheekbone with my thumb and then, very carefully, cradle her face. She places a hand over mine, her eyes fluttering closed. She looks so vulnerable, so lovely.
Before I can pull her in for a kiss, she takes a deep breath and gives me a smile brilliant enough to make the gears my head stutter. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Her phone rings, and she glances at it. A frown creases her brow. “I have to go. My ride’s here.”
Slight panic and denial mix together. I don’t want her to go.
If she leaves now, this is the end.
She bites her lower lip again, then hesitates for maybe a fifth of a second—the amount of time it takes to fall for someone.
She takes a napkin and jots down ten digits in neat handwriting. “Call me.”
After placing a kiss on my cheek, she walks out, leaving only the scent of my soap behind.