Page 57 of The Summer We Lie

Harper hooks her arm through mine, tugging me into the hotel, a building of sleek glass and modern design that screams luxury from every polished surface. A pang of longing twists through me as I glance back at Dom's truck, wishing to return to that safe cocoon of leather and muted city lights, with his steady presence beside me, his large hands confident on the steering wheel, his scent surrounding me.

Inside the lobby, Harper skips ahead, her excitement infectious, hair bouncing with each step across the gleaming marble floor. "Come on, let's check in, drop our stuff, then you can nap before we have to go." Her voice carries back to me, bright and eager.

I follow her lead, the hum of chatter and soft jazz of the hotel one step removed, my mind lingering on the night shared with Dom. Something about him, the way he handles himself with such control yet shows softness with Harper, tugs at a part of me I don't fully understand. It's a tether I didn't expect and don't know how to loosen – or if I even want to.

"You good?" Harper asks, glancing over her shoulder, her intuition sharp as ever, those green eyes missing nothing.

"Yeah, just thinking," I answer, trying to keep my voice light despite the heaviness of my thoughts.

"About?" She probes, never one to let me off easy, already narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"About that amazing dessert," I deflect, letting the moment dissolve with a lightness I don't quite feel, pushing away the complicated emotions Dom stirs in me.

Harper throws me a knowing look but lets it slide. She has her own excitement buzzing through her, practically vibrating with anticipation for our night out. Once in our room, a chic space with sweeping city views out the massive windows, the lights of Los Angeles spread before us like scattered jewels, I collapse onto the bed, letting the stress, the excitement, the anticipation all flow over me like waves.

"You really are going to nap, aren't you?" Harper observes, hands on her hips, shaking her head at my complete lack of party preparation enthusiasm.

I nod into the pillow, grateful for the solitude, the quiet to sort through my swirling thoughts of strong hands, dark eyes, and forbidden attraction. "Wake me when you're dolled up and ready," I mumble, already half-drifting, my body sinking into the plush mattress.

Her laughter follows me into a dreamless sleep, where the scent of expensive cologne lingers in my memory, and the murmur of the city fades into silence, replaced by the phantom touch of fingers intertwined with mine.

I pull out my phone to snap a sweaty, blissed-out club pic, but a text from an unknown number catches my eye. Opening it, my heart rate spikes higher than it did during the last three songs, threatening to burst right through my chest.

Unknown: Are you being good?

My fingers hover over the screen, heat rising to my cheeks that has nothing to do with dancing. Those words send electricity coursing through my entire body. I quickly type back, trying to keep my hands from shaking.

Me: Always

The response comes almost immediately, as though he was waiting, phone in hand, for my reply.

Unknown: Good

I bite my lip hard enough to hurt, emboldened by the three tequila shots from earlier and the comforting knowledge of the distance between us. The throbbing bass of the club music pulses through my body as I type.

Me: You miss me already?

I quickly save his number under "Cindy" in case Harper gets nosy about the flush spreading across my face or the way I can't seem to tear my eyes from the screen. My heart pounds frantically against my ribs while waiting for his response, which comes faster than I expected, making my stomach flip.

Cindy: What if I do?

A flush spreads through my body, warming me from the inside out like liquid fire. I try to play it cool, though my fingers tremble slightly as I type, delete and retype three times before settling on my response.

Me: It's okay I'm very addicting.

His reply makes my breath catch in my throat, the world around me momentarily fading into background noise.

Cindy: IK I'm already addicted to you.

Holy fuck. Did he actually just say that or am I drunker than I thought? My eyes re-read the words once, twice, three times, making sure I'm not hallucinating what I desperately want to see. Dominic Grayson - successful, powerful, commanding - addicted to me? Plain, ordinary, virgin? The thought alone makes my thighs clench involuntarily.

"Here you go, ladies," the waitress interrupts my spiraling thoughts, setting our drinks down with grace. She's wearing nothing but strategically placed body paint in swirling patterns of gold and black that somehow looks more sophisticated than actual clothes. Her confidence is palpable, radiating from her bare skin.

"Thanks," I manage to say, reluctantly tearing my eyes away from my phone and the life-altering text displayed on it.

"No problem, sweetie. Let me know if you guys need anything else." She saunters away, confidence in every step of her painted body, completely comfortable in her nakedness in a way I can't imagine ever being.

"Shots first," Harper declares, pushing a small glass toward me with a gleam in her light green eyes. She raises hers with a mischievous grin. "To summer time."