Page 56 of The Summer We Lie

Skye

After a few minutes of torturing him—and myself—I pull my hand from Dom's lap, placing it back on mine. I'm not a complete monster, and I figure he might appreciate not having to stand up with an obvious hard-on. I continue savoring each bite of my dessert, relishing in the sweet explosion of flavors that dance across my tongue. The creamy texture melts perfectly, leaving behind traces of rich chocolate and subtle notes of vanilla that make me want to close my eyes and just exist in this moment of pure indulgence.

Dom's hand brushes my thigh, and I give a slight jump, electricity shooting up my spine at the unexpected contact.

"You good?" Harper asks, too engrossed in her own dessert to notice my reaction, her spoon diving back into the decadent creation before her.

"Yeah, the ice cream hit my tooth. It was freezing." I play it off with a casual shrug, hoping the flush creeping up my neck isn't as visible as it feels burning beneath my skin.

"As well it should be," she smirks, her eyes never leaving her plate.

"Smartass," I mutter back, rolling my eyes, trying to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks and the rapid flutter of my pulse that seems determined to betray me.

Dom finds my hand again, and this time, he intertwines our fingers, letting them rest on his thigh. It's a simple gesture, but it sends a thrill through me that makes my breath catch. His thumb gently strokes the back of my hand, creating small circular patterns that hypnotize me. I focus on the sensation, the warmth seeping into my skin, anchoring me to this surreal moment while my mind spins with disbelief that this is actually happening.

When we eventually rise to leave, Dom releases my hand, and I feel the absence acutely, like stepping into a cold breeze after basking in the sun. My fingers tingle with phantom pressure, already missing his touch.

"So, where am I taking you two?" Dom asks as we wait for the valet, the sounds of the city a distant hum around us – car horns, laughter, and music all blending into the soundtrack of Los Angeles nightlife.

"The West Hollywood Edition," Harper answers, excited energy practically radiating from her body. "I booked our room already. We can relax and let our food settle before hitting the clubs." She bounces slightly on her heels, already thinking ahead to the night's adventures.

"Good," I say, stifling a yawn that comes from nowhere. "I just want a nap right now." The combination of rich food, emotional excitement, and the lingering tension between Dom and me has left me surprisingly drained.

"You sound like this guy," Harper teases, nodding in Dom's direction with that familiar mischievous glint in her eye.

"Hey, I don't take naps," he defends, an amused glint in his eyes, the corner of his mouth quirking upward.

"Uh-huh," Harper retorts with playful skepticism, years of father-daughter banter evident in her tone.

"I don't. Not unless I'm sick. I always wake up feeling worse, so I avoid them," Dom explains, holding his ground, his deep voice firm yet somehow still warm.

"That is true. They always make you feel worse," she agrees, nodding in acknowledgment of this long-established fact about her father.

"Well, right now, I just want to crawl into a bed," I admit, the comfortable pull of post-dessert drowsiness setting in, my limbs feeling heavier with each passing moment.

"She can't handle her food," Harper grins at me, a teasing lilt in her voice that makes me want to stick my tongue out at her like we're twelve again.

"I can see that," Dom remarks as his truck rolls up, his eyes lingering on me with an expression I can't quite decipher – something between amusement and something darker, more intense.

During the ride, silence blankets us, a serene bubble that wraps around the three of us. The gentle hum of the engine and the occasional swish of tires against pavement lulls me into a comfortable daze. I almost fall asleep, my head occasionally drooping before I catch myself, until he parks outside the hotel, the bright lights of the entrance breaking through my drowsy state.

"We're here," he announces softly, his voice rumbling through the quiet interior of the truck.

"Thanks, Dad," Harper says, retrieving her small bag from the floor, already reaching for the door handle.

"Hey, wait," he calls, and she pauses, one eyebrow raised in question, hand freezing mid-motion.

"Be careful tonight, alright? If you need anything, call me. I don't care what time it is—that goes for both of you," Dom says, his eyes shifting from Harper to me, sincerity etched in his features, the protective father evident in every line of his face.

"Thanks," I reply, genuinely touched by his concern, warmth blooming in my chest at being included in his protective circle. "Don't worry, I'll keep her out of trouble," I add with confidence, trying to lighten the moment.

His raised eyebrow is skeptical, clearly knowing his daughter too well. "That scares me," he chuckles, the sound rich and warm in the confined space.

Harper and I share a laugh as Dom's eyes linger on us, a silent promise of his support hanging in the air between us, creating an unexpected connection that feels both comforting and thrilling.

"Bye, Dad," Harper waves, her voice warm with affection as she finally pushes the door open.

"Love you," he replies before the door closes, the words floating back to us as we step onto the sidewalk.