When History Repeats Itself

Chapter Nine

"I didn't know you'd drop your fork like that—and that loudly too," Dom said with a teasing smirk as we slipped into his beach hut. 

The drapes were drawn to shut out the morning sun, but mostly, they offered us the privacy we were both starting to crave too often.

"And what exactly did you think would happen?" I asked, settling into the cane chair. A poor choice—memories of last night's slow, tangled cuddling bloomed in the silence between us.

"I underestimated the effect I have on you."

I rolled my eyes. Of course he did. "Next time, send a warning before you do something like that."

He crossed the space and perched on the arm of the chair.

"Like what? Morse code? A flare gun under the table?" He laughed and then, without warning, attacked my sides with tickles. I squirmed and squealed, laughing so hard tears pricked the corners of my eyes. My legs flailed. He had me trapped and then, mercifully, let go. 

The air between us stilled. He leaned in, his breath brushing my skin like a whisper.

Then came the softest kiss to my forehead and a husky whisper at my ear. "Soon."

God, I hated how hot and bothered he left me. And he knew. Worse, he had restraint. Real restraint. Like his body understood the rules even when mine wanted to throw the rulebook into the sea. I wanted him to kiss me. Just once. A soft, short kiss. Harmless. Or so I kept lying to myself.

I broke free and climbed into his bed, pretending to be above the ache settling in my chest. He followed slowly, grabbing the remote and flipping through channels until he landed on Entertainment News. His arm found its way around me, and though my leg was nestled between his, he didn't lean in. He didn't even look down.

I tilted my head, watching him through the sliver of his profile. He didn't budge.

So I leaned in and brushed a kiss against his neck.

He shifted.

Good.

"Christopher did mention how flirty you are," he said suddenly, voice light but with that annoying undertone that told me he had more to say.

I sat up so quickly I almost headbutted him. "Christopher said what?"

He smiled, smug. "Chris used to tell me about Sumaya's sister and her best friend. The one who flirted with him all the time. Even in front of Almara."

I groaned and covered my face. "Oh my God. Please. Stop."

He chuckled. "This isn't even the most embarrassing part."

I peeked through my fingers. "There's more?"

"Promise you won't freak out."

I lowered my hands slowly. "Just say it. Suspense is worse."

"What if I told you that you didn't just confess your crush on Chris to me—but that you told me about it, thinking you were telling him?"

I blinked. "What?"

"You remember your first sleepover at my place?"

"Yeah..."

"You remember thanking Chris when he got home?"

"Yeah?"

"And after that?"

"I... sat with him at the island for a bit. Then went to bed."

His eyebrows lifted. "Are you sure it was Chris?"

My heart stuttered. I went back to that night. The way Chris had walked in. I'd thanked him. Then... we'd talked. I remembered his face... only it hadn't really been his, had it? There was a shift halfway through, a flicker I'd dismissed. Dom's face.