shuhaige
28
His fingers landed on my chin, his stare moving through me, each of his exhales sending me more hints of last night’s cologne and this morning’s toothpaste. “The screen is going to be kind to you. You’re going to mesmerize the viewers, and they’ll want more of your life, your face, your personality. That’s what social media will give them-a glimpse at what makes Kendall Roy so fascinating. You’ve witnessed the rise and success of your sister, but I assure you, she’s plateaued. Her fame is going to be short-lived. Not you. They’re going to be captivated by your gorgeousness, which stretches far beyond your looks and body.”
With the compliments pouring out of him, words were once again failing me. “Dominick …” I started, but his eyes were making it hard for me to even breathe. “Thank you.”
“No thanks needed. I’m just speaking the truth.”
“I feel your sincerity.” I swallowed, the emotion there-I just didn’t want him to see it. “And I appreciate it.”
His hand dropped, now resting on the table several inches from mine. He extended his fingers, gently grazing across my knuckles, the sensation lighting sparks through my body.
So many unanswered questions simmered in the silence between us.
How could he have this endless faith in me but so easily let me go?
How could he hold my face and hand, moments that weren’t sexual at all, but only want to fuck me?
How did he not yearn for more time, smiles, laughter, mornings where I woke up in his arms?
“Breakfast is served,” the waitress said, tearing me from my thoughts as she set our plates in front of us, the stack of pancakes so large that I’d never finish them. “Let me grab the coffee, and I’ll top off your mugs. Can I get you anything else?”
I didn’t want to release Dominick’s stare, but I forced myself to take a quick scan of the table, noticing the extra napkins she had brought and the full carafe of creamer and that we had plenty of butter and syrup.
“I think we’re good,” I told her.
“Great. Enjoy.”
I rested my fork on the side of my plate, watching Dominick cut into his first bite. “I have to witness this. My heart is telling me those pancakes are about to blow your mind.”
He chuckled. “Don’t get your hopes up. Like I told you, I wasn’t born with a sweet tooth.”
Underneath that armor of his, I was positive I could find something sweet that he would love even if it wasn’t pancakes. Just like I could show him what a relationship would look like, one that wouldn’t obliterate his heart, one that wouldn’t be anything like the marriages his parents had described over dinner.
A smile began to beat its way through me, eventually tugging at my lips. “I think I’m about to change that, Dominick.”
SIXTEEN
DOMINICK
M
y fork dived into the edge of the pancake stack, drips of butter and syrup falling down the side, a round chunk of banana mashing as I cut through it.
I was more of an egg person.
A breakfast that I could pop into my mouth on the way to the gym or work. I wasn’t looking for flavor; I was after the protein, needing all the energy I could get to make it through the day.
That was why I didn’t normally eat brunch. Unless I was on vacation with the guys and there had been a night of heavy drinking before, I was usually moving so fast that I didn’t have time for this meal.
But it was actually nice to slow down and take a moment to appreciate this.
And the beautiful girl sitting across from me.
The girl I kept tasting again and again, one lick never enough. The same one who had me reaching across the goddamn table, unable to keep my fucking hands off her. The one whose stare told me she was listening and holding on to every word and could probably recite everything I’d ever said to her. The one who subtly glanced at my mouth, licking her own at the same time, wiggling in her seat whenever she laughed or got excited.
Like she was right now, her eyes fixed on my lips as they parted to take in my first bite.Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.
The second the brown sugar hit my tongue, my cheeks almost puckered, but that didn’t last as the savory butter kicked in, cutting the sweetness of the banana and syrup.
“Wow.” I spoke from behind my hand, taking my time to chew and swallow. “Not at all what I expected.”
“Better or worse?”
“Far better.” I took another bite, dipping it into the pool of syrup, the cinnamon from the butter still coating my mouth. “I honestly can’t tell you the last time I had a pancake, but I can tell you, it didn’t taste anything like this.”
“Most of them don’t. Not even the ones I make.” She finally dug into her stack. “They cook the fruit on top of the pancake rather than inside, so it adds a whole different flavor. Then, you add in whipped butter instead of a cold, hard pat, and it’s a mouth explosion.”
I laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.” I drank several sips of coffee. “The women I’m around don’t talk about food, and they don’t eat very much of it.”
She shook her head. “Now, that’s just a tragedy. Find yourself new women to hang out with, Dominick. There’s nothing sexy or fun about what you just described.” She wiped a glob of butter off the corner of her lip. “Life is far too short to only eat lettuce.”
“That should be your slogan.”
She poured more syrup on top of her stack. “Well, unless that lettuce is grilled with pine nuts and feta cheese and a tangy balsamic glaze on top.” Our eyes locked, the most enticing charm moving across hers. “And no, that should be your slogan. The next time there’s a girl sitting with you, nibbling on a leaf, looking all kinds of miserable, please tell her to order a pancake. Or two.”
“You’re adorable.”