I tilt my head in an attempt to see her face, but she turns away.
“Have you never seen a naked man before?” I wrap myself in the towel and cross the floor to get dressed.
“Of course I have,” she snaps, turning back to me.
I don’t think she is expecting me to be standing so close because her body slams against mine. She lets out a small gasp and looks up at me slowly. Her lip’s part, and my heart thrums against my ribcage.
I don’t even know her, but I want to kiss her.
I am going to kiss her.
But as my lips slowly close in on hers, she pulls back. “You’re bleeding.”
Fuck.
Chapter 4
Dominic
“What?”I ask as I am jarred from the moment.
“Your eye. You’re bleeding, Dominic,” she says again.
“Probably,” I say, wiping my brow again. “I just got clocked in the face because I was distracted by a clumsy girl who dropped a drink in the lap of the Cockpit’s biggest asshole.” Then I stop. “Wait. You know my name?”
Her eyes flash to mine. “Sure. Niko told me everyone’s name,” she says, looking back to the cut. I wish she’d go back to the kiss…
“You need stitches,” she says, almost like it’s a personal inconvenience.
“It’ll be fine.” As I bend to pull my pants on, blood drips onto the floor from my head. It hurts like hell.
“We at least need to stop the bleeding,” she says before grabbing me and pulling me out the door and into the public bar area. A neon sign that reads Cockpit is the only light in the whole place. After all, it’s almost 4am.
“I thought you were leaving?” I muse.
She ignores me. Stubborn little thing.
I watch as the girl grabs some ice and wraps it in a fresh bar towel. She walks over to me and presses it to my forehead.
I wince.
“Sorry,” she says. “It’s a nasty cut. It’s going to burn.”
Despite the pain, my eyes trace her heart-shaped face.
Starting from her arched black eyebrows to her deep brown doe eyes, perfectly turned-up nose and stopping at her dark pink lips. Blonde is not her natural hair color; that much is obvious. I find myself wanting to pull the stupid wig off.
To see her, the real her.
I feel like I’ve seen her before.
Like I know her.
“Have I met you before?” I ask, and her eyes stay locked on my injury.
“I doubt it,” she says.
“Why do you doubt it?” I ask.
