Dance For Me (Strip in the City, Book 2)

28 • Hot Proposition

Tan

I awoke the next morning to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the scent of something sweet that I couldn't put my finger on.

When I opened my eyes and looked around, wondering if Kennedy had stayed the night, I took in the flannel sheets and the rows of books and realized what had happened.

Shit. I'd fallen asleep at Dominick's.

We'd had sex, and I'd stayed over, and that...wasn't supposed to happen.

I always left.

If I stayed, there was a chance I'd get attached, and if I got attached, I was definitely going to be let down. Right now, Dominick might know more about me than any other man besides my brother, but that didn't mean he wouldn't find other things about me to hate.

I shut my eyes and let my head fall against his pillow, trying and failing to convince myself to get dressed and sneak out his window before he realized I was still here. But I couldn't make myself do it.

Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I was emotionally attached to Dominick. I liked who he was and that I could make him laugh. I also liked the way he made me feel. Laughing and letting him feed me panipuri was more freeing and fulfilling than pirouetting across the stage at the Lincoln Center. And, not to sound shallow, but it didn't hurt that he was also the best sex I'd ever had.

But more than the sex or the way he made me feel, there were the things he said to me that didn't feel fake or forced. Like last night.

I need you, too. Need you bad. Been needing you for weeks. Been needing you my whole fucking life.

He told me he needed me, and the strange thing was, I believed him.

Dominick didn't get attached to people very often, either. Yet, he was letting himself get close to me. I wasn't chasing him away. At every turn, he was getting closer, pulling me into his orbit.

A warm feeling spread from the center of my chest all the way down to my toes. Was this what feeling safe and secure with someone felt like? Maybe it was.

The sound of footsteps on creaky floorboards came, and then the bedroom door opened, revealing Dominick in all his glory. Carelessly mussed dark blond hair. Those dark rimmed glasses that framed green eyes. No shirt. All ink and muscles. And sweet hell, I was hungry again, but not for breakfast.

He lifted a steaming mug of coffee to his lips and took a sip. "Do you have time for breakfast? Or do you need to leave for rehearsal?"

Rehearsal? Oh fuck. I'd forgotten about ballet.

Every warm happy feeling inside me turned to ice as I scrambled around in the sheets for my phone, trying to find where it was hidden.

How could I have forgotten about ballet? It had been a part of my morning routine for years. If I was late, well, I couldn't even imagine being late. I found my stupid phone under the pillow and quickly checked the time. Thankfully, it was only seven-thirty.

I let out a relieved sigh, but it didn't loosen the knot of tension in my chest. I had time to get to rehearsal, but I wasn't sure which trains to take from here or how late they'd be. Sleeping over at someone's house was not a part of my routine.

"I'll take that as a yes," Dominick said, answering the question he'd asked me, "You have time for breakfast."

I pressed my lips together and took the cup of coffee he offered me with an appreciative thanks. Making room for him on the bed as he sat down beside me. "Thanks for the coffee," I said into the mug as I took a sip, "but I don't think I have time to eat. I need to stop by my place and change, and I absolutely cannot be late."