Page 77 of The Summer We Lie

"Yes, and..." she says, going to bounce on my bed, nearly toppling my carefully arranged pencils that I'd organized by hardness and shade for the detailed work on the dragon's expressions.

I put my sketchbook on the nightstand and give her my full attention. Her excitement is contagious, her green eyes sparkling with mischief in that way that always means I'm about to be dragged into something.

"Dad gave me his credit card and said for us both to go wild," she says with a triumphant grin, waving the black card between her fingers like it's a magic wand.

"Oh," I say, "are you sure?" The thought of spending someone else's money makes my stomach twist uncomfortably. I've gotten so used to counting every dollar, making sure there's enough to help mom with the bills.

"I'm sure! Come on, get dressed. We've got a lot of shopping to do." She springs up from the bed, already heading for the door. "I'm going to get ready," she says and runs out. "Hurry up!" she yells while running down the hall, her footsteps echoing against the hardwood.

I get up and go out in search for Dom. I walk out into the living room and kitchen not seeing him, and then I check his office before I go back to my room to text him. When I peek my head inside, I find him at his drafting table, his broad shoulders hunched in concentration.

I watch him work for a minute, thinking about all the nights we've spent together since he took my virginity last Sunday. The day after I was still so sore, but he still came to my room, and we showered together since all three of us had been in the pool all day. The memory of warm water cascading down our bodies makes my skin tingle. He got on his knees and worshiped my pussy, his tongue exploring every inch until I was trembling against the shower wall, and then I returned the favor, the taste of him still vivid in my memory. He showed me a rougher side of him that night when he fucked my face, his hands tangled in my wet hair, but I loved every damn second of it, the way he lost control because of me. The next two nights after that, we had sex, and he pushes me further each time, adding something new, something rougher, more demanding, and I find myself craving more, my body awakening to desires I never knew existed.

"Skye," he says, pulling me out of my head, his voice low and knowing.

"What?" I ask automatically, blinking away the heated memories.

"You tell me. You were just staring," he says, a knowing half-smile on his lips that tells me he knows exactly what I was thinking about.

"Oh, sorry," I say and look around outside his office to make sure Harper's not around. I walk over to him when the coast is clear, my heart racing at the prospect of even these few stolen seconds together.

"What is it?" he asks, wrapping his arms around me, the scent of his cologne mixing with the faint smell of pencil lead and coffee.

I love feeling his arms around me, so strong. He makes me feel safe like I haven't felt since I was little. The solid warmth of him grounds me in a way nothing else does.

"Harper said we're shopping and we can go wild," I say. "What does that even mean—go wild?" The concept is so foreign to me—shopping without checking price tags first, without mental calculations of what we can afford to eat for the next week.

"It means buy whatever the fuck you want," he says, pressing a kiss to my head, his lips lingering against my hair.

"I don't want to spend all of your money," I say, feeling my cheeks warm. The thought of such extravagance makes me dizzy.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest against my cheek. "Baby, you could go shopping every day and not spend all of my money," he says. "You get anything you want while you guys are out. Money is no object."

I can't wrap my head around that, but he leans down and kisses me so deep I forget what we're even talking about, and when he pulls back, I'm breathless, my lips tingling from the intensity.

"Now go get ready. Harper is going to put you through it today," he says, his eyes darkening with something that makes my stomach flip.

I laugh. "Okay, I'll see you later then."

I turn to walk away, and he slaps my ass, the sharp sting sending a jolt of electricity up my spine.

"Shit!" I squeak, and he laughs, the sound warm and rich, filling the space between us with promise.

Back in my room, I rush to get dressed before Harper comes down. I pull on a pair of my wide-legged jeans and a cropped tank top, slipping into my most comfortable chucks for what I suspect will be a marathon shopping session. I add a touch of lip gloss and a little plumeria body spray—the scent that makes Dom's eyes darken whenever he gets close.

My phone buzzes with a text from Mom asking how everything's going. I send her a quick reply saying everything's great and I'm headed out shopping with Harper. I don't mention Dom. I can't even begin to imagine how to explain what's happening between us—I barely understand it myself. All I know is that for the first time in my life, I feel seen. Really seen, not just as the responsible daughter or Justin's protective sister, but as a woman with desires and dreams of her own.

I grab my small crossbody bag just as Harper yells from down the hall that she’s ready. I take one last look in the mirror, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and adjusting my nose ring, and head out to face the day, still feeling the ghost of Dom's touch on my skin.

Five hours later, I'm completely exhausted as we plop into the car to head home. My feet are throbbing, and I'm pretty sure I've hit my yearly quota for trying on clothes in a single afternoon. Every muscle in my body is screaming for a hot shower and my comfortable bed.

"Oh my god, I'm so sore and starving," Harper groans, sliding into the driver's seat and kicking off her heels with a dramatic sigh of relief.

"Me too," I say, trying to sound normal despite the growing ache that has nothing to do with shopping and everything to do with thoughts of Dom that have been distracting me all day.

We started at the salon where we both got waxed—an experience that left me tingling with thoughts of Dom's hands exploring newly sensitive skin. Then came haircuts—nothing dramatic, just a trim and some soft layers that frame my face for me, while Harper went for something more styled with face-framing pieces that highlight the gold flecks in her eyes. After that, we hit the lingerie store where Harper insisted on picking out things for herself for Obsidian, and I got things that I think Dom will like.

During lunch in the crowded food court, Harper pushed her salad around nervously, lowering her voice. "I'm kind of freaking out about Obsidian," she admitted, glancing around to make sure no one could hear. "It's my first time there, and I've heard so many stories about what goes on behind those doors."