“But you…” I poke the center of his chest with my forefinger. “You’re a multimillionaire—”
“Billionaire,” he corrects with a sly grin.
I know this, of course, but I enjoy downplaying his wealth. “Whatever. The point is… you thrived. Flourished. It’s frankly… amazing. I mean, think about it. You’re so confident. Where did you get that? What role models provided it to you, because I’m guessing it wasn’t anyone in the foster system, right?”
Something sparkles in Dominik’s eyes. He tucks his chin in, smiling playfully. “I think someone might like me for reasons other than orgasms.”
I scoff, giving him a backhanded slap against his arm before turning my attention to the ocean, trying to act as if he’s not the most interesting man I’ve ever met. “I don’t like you at all.”
“You like me so much it scares the crap out of you,” he teases, though there’s a thread of meaning under it.
I ignore him, gazing at the blue water as I sip my wine.
Dominik pulls my legs onto his lap again, and I settle comfortably into the cushions. We’re silent for a while as we just laze the time away in each other’s company.
He doesn’t press the issue, and I’m glad. Because it wouldn’t take too much goading from him to make me admit I do like him a hell of a lot more than I ever dreamed possible.
And I’m just not ready to do that yet.
At least not out loud, because that makes it far too real. And when it becomes real, I’ll have to buckle down and make some firm choices about how I want to continue to lead my life.
CHAPTER 17
Dominik
My orgasm is so powerful I nearly blackout. It’s always so fucking earth-shattering with Willow. Each one feels like the most powerful earthquake is tearing me apart from the inside out.
That the intensity of our lovemaking hasn’t waned at all over the weeks we’ve been together is amazing.
My body collapses on top of hers, and I vaguely sense her unwinding her legs from my hips where she’d had them locked tight around me. I gather her in my arms, chest heaving from the exertion, and roll to my side, taking her with me.
I consider it a miraculous triumph that she now puts her arms around me in return because the Willow Monahan I first fucked had not been a cuddler by any means. Now she snuggles in close and presses her cheek to my chest, her own lungs still gasping for air after that workout.
The grand plan I’d had to bring her to southern California for a mini-vacation hadn’t panned out like I’d envisioned. I’d visualized dinners in fancy restaurants, meeting some high-profile celebrity friends, or maybe dancing in a few of L.A.’s finest clubs.
Instead, we stayed at my house almost the entire time. We grilled out, walked on the beach, and spent lazy hours on the back patio. While she read books, I worked on my laptop. And because there’s no fighting the physical need we seem to have for each other, we did a whole lot of fucking. It’s been a perfect four days.
“Ready to get back to the stress of the playoffs tomorrow?” she asks me in a voice made husky by all the moaning and crying out she’d just been doing.
We’re flying to Phoenix in the morning and our first game of the conference finals will be that evening against the L.A. Demons. We’ll have home-ice advantage so the first two games are in Phoenix. The winner of this series will move on to the Cup championship.
It’s becoming real now, and I’m loving every fucking minute of it even if it’s beyond stressful.
“Totally ready for tomorrow night’s game,” I reply, grazing my lips over the top of her head. “But bummed to be leaving this little cocoon we’ve had going on for the last few days.”
“It’s been nice,” she replies, her voice getting low and sleepy.
I cock my head at her. “Nice?”
She meets my eyes, a sly smile creeping over her face. “Yeah… nice.”
“Woman, you’ve been screaming the rafters down when I make you come. Nice is an insult. Take it back.”
“I won’t,” she taunts, and it’s on.
I flip her to her back, straddle her, and commence tickling. She squirms her luscious and well-used body underneath me, laughing hysterically as my fingertips work her ribs.
“Stop,” she gasps as she giggles and claws at my hands.
I give her a brief respite, my palms now flat on her ribs. “Take back the ‘nice’ part. Tell me just how fucking fantastic these last four days have been.”
She bites her lower lip, smirking in challenge. When I dig the tip of my index finger against a rib, she jerks with a snort before slapping at my hand. “Fine. If your fragile ego needs to hear it, then the last four days have been stupendous.”
Frowning, I sit back on my haunches. “I’m not sure if stupendous is really the right word.”
Willow cocks an eyebrow. “What would you suggest?”
“Fucking fantastic,” I exclaim. “I already suggested that, as a matter of fact.”
“Fine,” she drawls in exaggeration. “This time with you has been fucking fantastic. You’re fucking fantastic. Your house is fucking fantastic, and your body is fucking fantastic. You make me feel all kinds of fucking fantastic things. Are you happy now?”
I grin before flopping onto the bed beside her. “Immensely so.”
Side by side, we silently stare at the ceiling. With Willow, I don’t feel any pressing need to fill every void with useless conversation. I like her as much in the quiet as I do when she’s screaming at the top of her lungs.
But a thought occurs to me and I roll on my side to face her, putting elbow to mattress and propping my head in the palm of my hand. “I assume your parents are coming in for the first two games?”
Willow nods. “My sister Meredith and her husband, too.”
“Even better,” I reply thoughtfully. “So, I’d love to have them all over to my house for dinner one night. Maybe in between games one and two?”
Willow’s head tilts my way and her brows are furrowed. “You want to invite my family to your house for dinner?”
“Yes,” I drawl.
“Why?”
“Why not?” I toss back.
Her eyes snap back to the ceiling and she worries at her lower lip, frowning in what looks to be consternation.
“Does your family know we’re dating?” I ask cautiously. “I mean, besides Dax, do they know, for example, that you’re here in California with me?”
Willow rises onto her elbows, turning to me. It makes her breasts push out, which is distracting, but I refuse to take the bait.
“They don’t necessarily know we’re dating,” she says hesitantly. “I mean, Dax knows we’re seeing each other. And my parents probably suspect it, given how you were on that call. But we haven’t really talked about it.”
“Well, me inviting them to dinner at my house will put that to rest. Then you won’t have to worry about announcing it to them,” I say.
“I’m not worried about announcing it,” she snaps. “It’s just… I’m not sure we should—”