Total pages in book: 216
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
Dominick’s eyes light up when I set down two cups of mousse in front of him.
“Little sister, you know the way to my heart.” He grabs a spoon and eagerly starts devouring the first dessert. “Come sit here by me.” He pats the center of the large couch where he’s splayed out, his mouth thick with chocolate.
I roll my eyes at him but drop to sit where he says.
He’s devoured his whole first cup by the time Dad sits down on the other side of me with the remote.
Their bodies are both so warm, I can’t explain the chills that pop up all over my arms.
“Cold?” Dad asks, turning to me. He grabs the soft blanket that’s always draped across the back of the couch and wraps it around me, squeezing me in a quick hug as he does.
He’s so close I can’t help inhaling him. He smells the same as he did that first night at the wedding. My eyelids drop half-closed as I breathe in long and deep.
A secret I would die before admitting to anyone, ever? Sometimes when no one’s home, I sneak into Dad’s bedroom and smell his shirts. And then go in his bathroom and inhale his cologne. It’s not nearly the same thing as being near him like this, so warm and alive and just…him. It’s always missing something—the lived-in quality of his body, of whatever smell that’s just all Dad.
Oh God, it’s creepy, isn’t it? I’m a creepy, creepy girl and seriously, if anyone ever knew—
But it just makes me feel, I don’t know… Safe. Sometimes everything gets so overwhelming. I’ve been carrying everything on my own for so long. And suddenly here are these two guys with me in the house. I’m not alone anymore. But when they’re not home, I get a little freaked out and I just need to prove to myself that they’re actually real.
But tonight, they’re here, choosing to spend their evening in with me instead of out in the hundreds of other places they could be, schmoozing with a thousand people more interesting than me.
“Does that feel better?” Dad asks right after taking a bite of his own mousse. His chocolatey breath is warm on my cheek and I want to lean into him.
I nod and smile what’s probably a dopey smile.
Up close his brilliant green eyes have a thousand hues and facets. Entire galaxies.
Dad grins in return and I feel it all the way down to my stomach where tingly and happy little fireflies dance around before zinging lower all the way to my toes.
“Look, it’s starting,” he nods with his spoon toward the screen. It takes a moment, but I finally break away from his mesmerizing eyes and settle in to watch the movie.
Naturally, Dominick has already finished all his chocolate mousse. He lies back against the cushions, feet propped up on the coffee table, one long arm slung the couch behind me. In repose, his posture is almost feline it’s grace. Like a sated lion in his lair. Perfectly at ease—but with all that muscle, you get the feeling he’s always poised to strike, and strong enough to rip anything apart that stands in his way.
He drops his arm over my shoulders and pulls me into him. “So, sis, do you really have space for dessert after that deliciously filling dinner you made?” He eyes my chocolate cup.
Alright, so the predator doesn’t seem so scary when he’s begging for more dessert. I laugh and push him off me.
“Never get between a woman and her chocolate!” I mock glare him down and raise my spoon like it’s a weapon.
He raises his hands up. “I do apologize, ma’am.”
“Good,” I pretend huff and settle back into the couch. I eat my first spoonful and oh my God, am I glad I defended my dessert. My eyes immediately close as I savor the rich chocolate cream on my tongue. Soooooooooooo good.
A choked cough from beside me makes my eyes pop open.
Only to find both Dominick and Dad staring at me.
“What?” I ask, flipping the spoon over and licking it to get the last bits of cream off.
Dominick sits up a little straighter and grabs one of the side pillows. He lays it across his lap.
I eye him. “Don’t look at me like that. You are so not getting this chocolate cup.”
“Right,” he says, and for some reason his voice sounds a little strangled. “Oh look, the starting credits are done.” He points back at the screen. “Don’t want to miss the beginning.”
I frown at him. He seems a little stiff, but whatever. He’s right, the movie is starting. I turn my attention to it and continue eating my chocolate.
The movie begins normally enough. A middle-aged but still handsome college professor goes about his normal morning routine. His wife harangues him about not having enough money to go on vacation with her friends to the Cape while he shaves. By his expression, you can tell it’s an old argument.