Dominic
I don't remember the last time I enjoyed talking to anyone. I mean, I had business meetings that lasted hours, but I barely had to speak. I would listen and comment here and there, but I didn't talk. I don't even think I enjoyed the whole talking on the phone aspect.
It would be weird when I'd see couples on the phone, talking and laughing, and posting that they'd been talking to each other for hours. Who had the time? Looking over at Sienna that was cuddled up in my arm as we talked, I guess I had the time. I had more than time. We've been talking for hours. It didn't feel like that, though.
It felt like a few minutes like I barely walked into her room. It wasn't eight o clock at night though, it was almost five in the morning, and I swear to you we've been talking like we were long-lost lovers, like friends who had too much to catch up on and hadn't seen each other in months.
We spoke about pointless subjects, topics you don't usually bring up for pillow talk, yet tell me why I knew everything about this woman and yet I fucking wanted more. I was greedy for Sienna. I could close my eyes and tell you every detail of every tattoo on her body and give you the silly and cute and deep meanings.
I could close my eyes and reach for her hands and trace every line up and down her palms. I could close my eyes and tell you her favorite movie, even quote a few lines that could make her laugh or cry.
I could close my eyes and tell you that she wasn't as confident as she seemed to be, that she had pain prickling behind her words and sadness that seeped out of her even when she smiled. I could close my eyes and hear the thump-thumb of her heartbeat and swear to you it matched my very own beating heart that rattled behind its cage every time she got near.
"I've never watched Titanic or The Notebook." She said.
"That's your unpopular opinion," I mumbled, sleepily.
"I can't think of any. I'm tired. I don't like pumpkin flavored anything."
I gasped, placing my hand over my chest. "You don't like pumpkin pie?"
"To be honest, I've never tried it, but it looks weird. It's just orange mush." She spoke, her fingers tracing up and down my bare chest. "Do you like it?"
"Yeah, my mother makes the best fucking pumpkin pie. Makes me miss her."
"Do your parents live far?"
"Arizona, in a city called Glendale. I moved them up there before I came here. How about you? Where do your parents live?"
I felt her tense up on top of me and laugh nervously as she got up. "I have to make Lizzy some breakfast. You wanna stay or head out to freshen up? I have to get ready for work anyways." She asked, changing the subject.
I didn't push, even though I wanted to. I wanted to see what other secrets she had in her eyes, or written on her body, but she was already sitting up and getting dressed. We haven't even signed the contract yet. I've never slept with a woman without signing paperwork and as businesslike as it sounded, that was the only way I could ever be intimate with someone.
With rules, regulations, laws, and a specific time period that let me know it had an endgame. With Sienna, all logic was not tossed out the window but launched on a rocket to the fucking stratosphere. I was breaking my rules, disregarding my sanity, and my rationality, and I knew it wasn't just the sex. It was everything before it.
It was the fact that I wanted her from the nanosecond my eyes fell on her. I wanted her then and I wanted her riotously, wildly, and there was no logic behind my reasoning. I was a businessman at heart. I knew numbers, contracts, legal wordings, and rules.
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Safe Place
RomanceDominic Harrison doesn't believe in love, but contracts. He offers women thirty days, no more, no less. Each women is spoiled, fucked every way you could possibly think of, and after the thirty days are done, he walks away. It does help that he pre...