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Dominic
Dom walked into room 842 later that night as nervous as he was for his first middle school dance. But the smile that lit up Lula’s face alone was enough to make the trip worth it. She was so fucking beautiful.
To his surprise, she had changed into jeans and a pretty top and her hair hung in sexy curls around her shoulders. He had never seen her in anything other than her mismatched sweaters, skirts, and topknot. Except for that damn satin dress at Mo’s. He still blamed that fucking thing for starting all of this.
He swallowed hard when she stood up to greet him; her jeans were cut perfectly—almost painted on. They made her legs look miles long. He was desperate to see her ass in them though he wasn’t sure he’d survive the fallout.
“Hi,” she breathed, cheeks pink, those curls bouncing around her shoulders.
“Hey there,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets before he took her over his shoulder. “How is she doing?”
“Stable,” she answered easily, he could see from the lightness in her eyes that the prognosis had improved. “The doctors say if she wakes up tomorrow and remains that way, there’s a good chance she’ll recover about ninety percent.”
He beamed at her. “Lula, that’s amazing news.”
“I know, right?” She returned his smile and they settled into the chairs next to her grandmother. The machines beeped and hissed around them.
“How was your day?” she asked after a moment of silence passed between them. She played nervously with a small silver bracelet on her wrist. He longed to take her hands in his.
Instead he cleared his throat and said, “Pretty good. It definitely started out in the most mind-blowing way.”
She flushed bright red and squeezed her thighs together. “Funny,” she answered with a pretty smile, her eyes danced, maybe even dared, “mine did too.”
Dom grinned and had to shift to cover his growing excitement. He briefly wondered if there was a utility closet nearby he could take her to. “Imagine that.”
“I have,” she admitted and leaned closer, her voice dropped, “about a thousand times today.”
Jesus. “Lula,” he warned, she was not helping him keep his hands to himself. Fuck, he wanted this woman.
“You want to go to dinner now?” she asked suddenly, her breath was shallow.
Yes. God yes. “If it’s okay with you.” He wanted to be respectful.
“Um, yes. It’s more than okay,” she said and grabbed his hand. “Come on.”
Like he wouldn’t follow her anywhere. Especially once he got a good look of her ass in those jeans. He groaned aloud and she threw an inquisitive look over her shoulder as she grabbed her coat.
“I like your jeans,” he explained.
“Is that so?” she asked and wiggled her rear-end at him just because she could.
He growled again. “You are killing me, Miss Stanley.”
She stopped at the door and gave him a pert look. “That’s the idea, Mr. Adams.”
Fuck.
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Lula
Lula was still blushing when he opened the door to his car. He liked her ass. He came to visit her grandmother. He was taking her to dinner. She was losing the battle with her heart.
His car was a cocoon of smooth black leather and had a faintly new smell. She smiled at him when he slid into the driver’s seat. His smell was something else entirely—manly, erotic, all the things that made her panties useless.
He grinned back and started the car. “Comfortable?”
She simply nodded.
“I’ve been listening to some new music,” he told her and adjusted the volume. She tried not to imagine his strong fingers working across her bare skin, but failed.
As Ella’s voice filled the space, her eyes flew open and she looked at the side of his head. He was listening to Ella? Her heart thudded. “Ella?” she asked.
“Someone inspired me,” he said with a grin.
She melted into the seat as the sound washed over her, and just listened for a few bars. “There’s no one like her, she sings and I just feel every vibration.”
He guided the car out of the hospital parking lot. “I think I know what you mean.”
“You do?”
“Yeah,” he answered, masterfully pulling into the busy Chicago traffic. “I went to this jazz club with my annoying-and not-at-all-good-looking brother and there was this singer there.” He smiled at her. “She completely blew my mind ... never heard anything like it before.”
Her breath caught when her eyes met his. He was dead serious.
“You were incredible,” he added, making her heart pound so heavily she thought they might need to go back to the hospital.
It took a few moments for her to recover enough to speak. “That’s very sweet of you, Dom, but I think you might be talking about the dress.” She knew she was being flippant but couldn’t help herself; she had always been bad at receiving compliments. Besides, reminding him of that dress had its upside.
He growled and she reveled in the sound.
“The dress was really quite nice, Lula” he agreed, “but it didn’t sing. You did.”
Flushing furiously, she looked out the window for a moment. Her heart was fluttering. “I ... thank you.”
“You know you could make a career of it if you wanted.”
His compliment thrilled her, to be even an ounce as talented as her mother and grandmother meant the world to her. “Thank you,” she said again, turning back to him. “But teaching is all I’ve ever really wanted to do. Don’t get me wrong, I love to sing, I’m just not cut out for a career that would have me moving around all the time. I love my kiddos and I don’t think I could ever leave them.”
“I know you do,” he answered with a smile. “It shows.”
“What about you?” she asked, realizing that for all the time they had spent together recently, not much of it had been in conversation. “Grapevine says you’re working on a manuscript.”
He chuckled. “The East High grapevine is correct for once. I’m writing a book about the Menotti family.”
“The crime family?”
“That’s the one.” He flipped a blinker on. “I suppose writing is to me what singing is to you.”
“You love it.”
“I do.” At this he looked at her as if to emphasize his point. “But not just the writing; it’s the research, the discovery. I love taking little scraps of information and pushing them around until they’re in the right order, until they tell the story they were meant to tell.” After a beat he added, “I suppose that sounds silly.”
His excitement was boyish and catching. If she thought he was sexy before, he was off the charts now. No man had ever been this attractive to her. It was overwhelming in the best possible way. “Not at all,” she told him, she left out the rest. “And how is the research coming along?”
He smiled at her. “Well, that’s a tough one to answer. I thought I had everything, had a good start on the manuscript, and then just this week I was given a massive amount of primary resources that will mean scrapping most of what I’ve already written.”
“Oh no!” she exclaimed. “And also yay? I’m not actually sure what the right reaction is.”
He chuckled. “You and me both. It changes everything though, I’ll have a real chance to write real history. I have a hunch that a lot of what’s been written doesn’t even scratch the surface.”
She curled her fingers around the hand that rested in his lap, surprised at her own boldness. “I’m happy for you, Dom.”
He looked surprised at first and then meshed his own fingers with hers. He smiled. “Thank you, Lu.”
They drove in silence for a few moments, fingers entwined, and she simply felt happy as he guided them carefully through the busy streets.
A few minutes later they pulled into a small steakhouse that she had never been to. “Ooh, I love steak,” she breathed. She sent up a quick prayer, Please, let me not eat like a horse in front of this man.
“Just wait until you see dessert,” he told her and made her wait while he came around to open her door.
She felt stupidly special and took the arm he offered with a giddiness she hadn’t felt since Bobby Schrader asked her to the homecoming dance freshman year.
The restaurant was decorated in typical old-fashioned steakhouse style, resplendent with horseshoes and a giant stuffed bull. She always thought having the head of a cow staring at her while she was eating a steak was a little unsettling but didn’t point it out.
After the very young waitress sat them at their booth, Dom smiled at her. “Order whatever you want.”
“I will have one of everything.” She sighed, looking over the menu. “Food is my favorite.”
He looked at her over his menu. “I thought it was cinnamon rolls.”
“Cinnamon rolls are food. I don’t discriminate.”
He laughed. “Fair enough. Have you checked out the dessert selection yet?”
Her eyes roamed down the menu to the desserts. Chocolate cake, New York cheesecake, tiramisu. She gasped. Grandma Julia’s World Famous Cinnamon Rolls. Her eyes whipped up to Dom.
“I thought you’d like that,” he said, clearly proud of himself.
“Dom,” she said, almost overcome. These last few days had been so terrifying and so unsure and he had made it ... bearable. “That was really sweet of you.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” he teased.
She felt a little childish for a moment but went on anyway. She figured she should just get it out there. “Well, you do have somewhat of a reputation. I’m sure you know.”
He folded his menu and leaned forward conspiratorially. “You know, I have heard a few things. Did you know that I have a harem? And I’ve done all but two positions in the Kama Sutra?”
She felt herself heat and had to squeeze her knees together yet again. He was so adept at taking awkward situations and turning them into perfectly acceptable conversations. “Is that so, Mr. Adams?” she asked, putting her own menu down.
“Apparently.”
She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “And what about those last two positions? Too difficult for you?”
His smile grew dangerous. “Haven’t found the right person to try them with.”
Her entire body thrilled. “Or maybe you’re afraid?” she asked, drawing a deep growl.
“You willing to find out?”
She was about to respond when the waitress appeared. Her heart was pounding, and she was certain her cheeks were apple red.
They both fumbled through their orders like horny teenagers and when the waitress finally disappeared, he looked at her with heavy, heated eyes.
“Lula, do you mind getting the dessert to go?”
“Shall we get dinner to go too?” she asked, frantically trying to reign in her hormones. She was more than a little tempted to just take his hand and make him fuck her behind the restaurant.
His mouth twitched. “Tempting, but I think we’ll need the energy for later.”
“You think?” Her brow climbed. “That’s not terribly reassuring.” She was desperate, vibrating from need. She needed to feel him inside her now. “I mean, if you’re not willing to put in the kind of effort I would expect ...”
His eyes widened. “Are you challenging me, Miss Stanley?”
“No.” She thought carefully about her next words. “I’m daring you.”
Keeping his eyes locked on hers, she felt his desire in every cell of her body. He lowered his voice and spoke dangerously, “Later, when you’re bent over, exhausted from coming, and can’t catch your breath, you just remember that little dare.”
She swallowed. She was so fucking wet. “And if I don’t?”
He shook his head and shifted in his seat with a groan. “You’re making it very hard to sit still, Lu.”
“Good,” she answered, enjoying how the tension wrapped around them. She hadn’t felt this alive with any man, ever. “I’ll make it hard later too.”
“Fuck, Lula,” he growled, dropping his napkin to his lap. “I’m not going to be able to stand up for the rest of the night if you keep talking like that.”
She smiled at him. “I’ll stop if you promise to make it worth the wait.”
“That’s a promise I can keep. I promise you won’t even know what hit you,” he declared, voice low. “I’ll turn you around a hundred different ways and make you scream my name so loud you’ll be hoarse.”
Dear. God. She whimpered quietly. She actually fucking whimpered.
He smiled knowingly at her and settled back into his seat as the waitress brought their drinks.
She drank half her glass of wine in one gulp and prayed that the food would come out quickly because she wasn’t going to make it otherwise.
When the food finally came to the table, he laughed as she shoveled large forkfuls into her mouth.
“Step it up, Adams,” she instructed, “we’ve got places to be.”
He chuckled and obliged.