Undeniable: Dom & Gigi (Beg For It 5) - Page 32

Finally he dropped down, sweaty, panting, hands to his thighs. Then he turned around, not surprised to see me. He must have known I was standing there staring at him. I blushed and looked down, caught.

“What are you wearing now?” he growled, not sounding any happier.

“You don’t like this, either?” I pulled at the tank top. It was fitted, but nothing I hadn’t seen women of every age dashing around Manhattan in as they flitted from yoga class to coffee shop.

“It’s better,” he grumbled, grabbing a towel to wipe himself off. “If you want to work out, I’ll be done in 45 minutes. Then you can have the room to yourself.”

OK, so he didn’t even want to exercise with me in the same room.

“We have cable, but not internet,” he informed me, like a tour guide as he made his way over to the free weights. “There’s a library. And a pool.” Then he looked at me as if to say, “So what’s keeping you here?”

I got his message loud and clear. He wanted me out of his hair. Fine. My feelings were hurt, but I’d show him I didn’t need to hang out with him anyway. In the library I found a John le Carré spy novel. Channeling all my nervous, jittery energy, I curled up on a sofa to read it cover to cover. It had car chases and hideouts, just like my real life.

I took a shower, ate dinner alone and headed up to bed without seeing Dom again. For two people stuck in the same house, we had sure done a good job of avoiding each other all day.

That night, it took me a while to settle down. Three nights ago I’d watched Dom shoot a man in the hallway outside my apartment. I’d been in a car chase through Manhattan. Now I was trapped in a house in Arizona with a man who wouldn’t talk to me and it was so quiet I could hear a pin drop.

I was still awake when I finally heard him head into his room. I listened to him rustle around, and then the door connecting our rooms cracked open an inch. Was he coming in? I must have gasped, because then I heard his rumbling, deep voice from the next room.

“Don’t worry, princess, I’m not coming in there. I’m just keeping the door open a crack.”

Then it took me even longer to fall asleep. I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable, and it made it worse that I could hear him doing the same, shifting in his bed. It was like we were sharing the same room.

I didn’t know how I’d fallen asleep so fast the night before. Now I felt so agitated, too hot for my covers. Maybe tomorrow I’d look for a fan.

I kept thinking about him in the exercise room. How relentlessly he’d pumped on that pull-up bar, pushing himself, drenched in sweat. It had been a long time since I’d touched myself. Sometimes months passed without that side of me awakening, almost as if it lay dormant, turned off. But it was awake now. It would feel so good to slip a finger down. I bet I’d be wet. I could keep quiet, just pleasure myself a little bit, maybe not even orgasm. It had been a while since I’d given myself one.

But I heard Dom shift in his bed in the next room. He was too close. The door between our rooms was open. If he caught me touching myself it would be so embarrassing. I kept my hands away from where I ached and finally, finally drifted to sleep.

* * *

§

* * *

Most of the next day passed in the same way. Dom did three workouts that I knew about. I saw him briefly, passing me in the hallway, sweaty after his morning exercise. Then I glanced out and saw him doing laps in the backyard pool around lunchtime. Later in the afternoon I headed down to do a workout of my own and I found him there in the exercise room again, doing push-ups like he had a drill sergeant driving him to do it. Maybe he was a drill sergeant, himself? He was in such badass shape. If he was he was probably brutally punishing to his group. Squad? I didn’t know many military terms.

He practically leapt up when he saw me come in. “I’ll leave you to it.” He headed out.

I could have let him go, but it was only our second full day in the house and I was already getting bored out of my mind. “I’m going to cook some dinner tonight.” I decided on the spot. “Why don’t you eat with me? Six o’clock?” He started to decline, saying what I didn’t know. “Do you have other plans?” I asked, eyebrow arched. “Are you heading out?”

“Fine,” he agreed, not sounding thrilled at the prospect.

I exercised with about 10 percent of his intensity, but still felt pretty proud of myself for doing it. I showered and changed back into the newly-laundered sweater and jeans I’d brought from home. In the fridge I found eggs, ham and parmesan cheese so I decided to make spaghetti carbonara and a simple salad. On impulse, I opened a bottle of red wine.

Dom came down at six o’clock, freshly showered and looking good enough to eat himself. He hadn’t dressed up, just wearing jeans and an old T-shirt, but oh the way that shirt clung to his broad, powerful chest and revealed the tattoos twining down his biceps and forearms. I had to look away so I wouldn’t drool on the floor. Dom had rejected me more than any other man, and yet still turned me on more than any other, either. That just didn’t seem fair.

We sat down at the kitchen island to eat. The dinner came out pretty tasty, but I didn’t have much appetite. That was all right, though. Dom ate enough for both of us, even as he held himself to only one glass of wine.

“This is really good.” He served himself a third helping of spaghetti.

Taking a deep breath to bolster my courage, I launched in to try to start some conversation with the brick wall. “So, have you been overseas with the army?”

“Yes.” He took another bite.

“Are you done now, or just on leave?”

“On leave.”

“So, you’ll go back overseas again?”

“Yes.” Munch, munch, sip. Conversation was not flowing

“Are you limited to one word answers only?” I tried to lighten the mood.

“On leave is two words.” At least he looked up as he said it, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Did we get this house through the military?”

“No.”

“Who then?”

He exhaled and pushed his

plate away, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “The less you know the better, Gigi.” I kept looking at him expectantly, and to my surprise he relented a bit. “I know some guys from back where I grew up. Connections through my father.”

I nodded, remembering he’d made a few, brief references to a rough childhood. He didn’t volunteer any more, so I asked, “How long do you think we’ll be in this house?”

“Not sure.”

“Are you going to work out three times a day every day we’re here?” I tried to tease him.

“If that’s what it takes.” He sounded serious. Then he rose and took his plates to the sink. “You can leave yours. I’ll clean them. Thanks for making dinner.”

His tone couldn’t be more clear. He was telling me to get lost. I stared at his back. Why was he being so dismissive? We were trapped in the house together, only each other for company. Didn’t he realize it would be a lot more pleasant if he were at least nice?

His back muscles rippled as he soaped up a plate. Wow. What were those muscles called that wrapped from the back of his shoulder down his arm? Deltoids? He had really great deltoids. He could give anatomy lessons. I’d be his star student, as long as I got to touch in addition to look.

“Why don’t you head up to bed?” he said without turning around.

Fine. I stood up and did just that. I read for a while, then decided to take a bath. It felt so good, soaking in that warm water, but it didn’t exactly relax me. If anything, by the time I climbed back into bed all rosy pink and warm I was even more agitated, my body hyper-aware and awake.

Dom was so crazy sexy, with such raw male power. I hadn’t seen a single man who could hold a candle to him in the past four years. All those college boys down at my fancy private university, they’d had the preppy look down and some of them were so handsome they could model in a catalogue. But none of them looked like they could pin your wrists to the bed and make you like it. The way Dom had done years ago. The way I still fantasized about late at night.

Tags: Callie Harper Beg For It Erotic
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