“Shit,” he says finally, still fighting for breath. “That was so—you’re so damn incredible, Sloane. I ruined these fucking sheets. I need to clean up.”
I can hear the sheets rustling as he starts to move, but I have one request before he gets rid of the evidence. “Wait! Send me a picture.” And then because I know he won’t be able to resist me if I beg a little. “Please, Dom.”
Both ends of the line are quiet as he considers my request. Finally, he answers. “I suppose you do deserve a reward for being such a good girl tonight.”
“I do,” I murmur, mouth already watering at the thought of a picture of his dick, still hard but well spent, pressed against abs that are slick with cum. “It wasn’t easy, Dom. You know how much I love to come for you.”
The last part elicits a soft growl from him, and I fight back a laugh as I hear shuffling and the telltale clicking of the camera. Seconds later, my phone dings with a text notification, and my heart is in my throat as I open the picture.
“Oh my God,” I moan. “How did you manage to make a dick pic sexy?”
It’s even better than I expected. His dick is still hard, his long fingerswrapped roughly around his shaft like he was stroking it when he took the shot. Cum is everywhere, spilling from the flared tip, smeared on his fingers, and in the fabric of the sheets wrapped around his powerful hips.
Dom laughs quietly. “I need to clean myself up and change my sheets, angel.”
“I know.” I pout, remembering the pressing loneliness that’s waiting for me when we hang up the phone. It was what prompted me to call him in the first place, but I forgot it completely while we were talking. I sigh heavily, wondering if he’ll think I’m weird if I ask him to stay on the phone with me tonight.
“When I get done, I’ll call you back. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without your snoring rattling my bones.”
My mouth falls open in outrage even as my heart soars with a joy that can only come from being known and understood by someone. From never having to ask for what you want or need but being given it anyway.
Of course he knew I missed him.
Of course he understood that I wanted to find a way to be with him even if it couldn’t happen physically.
And of course he knew I needed all of those things before I knew it myself.
Careful, Sloane. You almost sound like you’re in love.I push the thought aside, refusing to give any credence to the ramblings of my tired brain.
“I do not snore!”
Chapter 25
Sloane
Now
On Thursday evening, I find myself home alone, wrapped up in a rare group FaceTime call with both of my parents. My dad is still at work and my mom is going through a large selection of evening gowns, looking for the one most likely to make her look like she has a heart.
“Sloane, darling. I happen to know that Ash is one of the bachelors being auctioned off at the Rockwell Foundation’s annual charity event this year. Please tell me you’ll be there to save him from the swarm of ladies who’ll be bidding on him. Half of them are old enough to be his mother.”
“Lauren,” my dad says sternly.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and tell my father that even his best lawyer voice won’t stop his wife from trying to force me to talk to her about my nonexistent relationship with New Haven’s most eligible bachelor. Once again, that’s not me talking. Ash was literally on the cover ofHarem, an exclusive print magazine with a cult following, this week with those exact words in sharp, red letters above his head.
“No, Mom,” I say instead. “Ash and I have decided we’re better suited to be friends, so he’ll have to fend for himself at the auction.”
Or be rescued by whatever mystery woman he was meeting at Roku yesterday. Either way, his fate at the charity event doesn’t have anything to do with me, and I refuse to act like it does. My mother gives a disapproving tut, but it’s Dad who speaks.
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out, Bean.” His chestnut eyes shine with sincerity. “I hope my relationship with him didn’t have any bearing on the decision.”
I shake my head. “Of course not, Daddy. We’re just looking for two different things.”
Ash is looking for someone emotionally available, and I, apparently, am only looking for Dominic Alexander. The one man I shouldn’t want but have given up on resisting.
“What a shame,” my mother mutters. “You two made a beautiful couple.”
“Uh—thanks?”
