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“You’re Dominic,” I manage to say. “You’re a … regular here. This is what you do to unwind. You don’t have time for anything else.”
He cocks his head at me, and I wonder how much I’ve managed to get right.
Probably not the name, but that’s the whole point.
“The bartender fills my glass without having to ask,” he says, nodding. “He knows what I drink. I’m here often enough to recognize when someone doesn’t fit in.”
He gives me a hard look that does nothing to disguise the fact that he’s slipping into this role. He’s embodying Dominic.
And I’m helplessly swept up into being Sara.
“You most certainly don’t fit in here. I can see it.” ‘Dominic’ smiles, his eyes warming. “But I like that about you. You’re different than anyone else I’ve met.” He lifts one dark brow, his gaze flicking downward. “And I can tell that you’re uncomfortable with your dress. You keep tugging at it.”
My hands have been playing along the hemline of my coat, just to have something to do, and now they still.
He reaches out and pulls at the loose knot keeping my coat—and my relative modesty—intact.
“But you’re fucking gorgeous,” he continues, patient. Relentless. “You don’t even know how gorgeous. Every pair of eyes in this goddamn place is on you, and yet you have no idea what you’re doing to people.” He leans close, his lips brushing my ear. “To me.”
I fight the urge to move, mainly because doing so would risk untying my coat and revealing my outfit to Dominic—and to the rest of the bar.
Keeping very still, I turn slightly so that it’s my lips at his ear this time.
Fuck, he smells so good.
His sheer physicality feels like a promise.
“Nice to meet you, Dominic,” I breathe. “You’re right. I’m new to this, and I’m a little nervous. I didn’t know there would be so many people here. I bet I look like a deer in the headlights.”
“You don’t have to be nervous, baby girl.” His hand leaves the belt of my coat and instead smooths the hem, brushing my fingers. The contact of skin on skin is electric. “I’m here.”
“What are you here for, Dominic?”
“For you, of course. Anything. Everything. Tell me what you need.”
I laugh breathlessly, a shudder of arousal working through me as he briefly touches my knee. I have no idea how I’m being so bold right now. Maybe it truly is the magic of pretending to be someone else. “I think you know what I need.”
“I know exactly what you need,” he agrees, giving my knee a squeeze. “But I want you to tell me. Use your words.”
My pulse is racing so fast that I’m sure he can see the flutter of it in my neck. His command hangs in the air between us, and I feel like I’m standing at the doors of an airplane, about to jump out and free fall through space.
This is crazy. Reckless. Totally out of character.
But for some reason, none of those things seem like reasons why I shouldn’t do it. Instead, they all seem like reasons why I should.
“I need…” My voice is low, meant only for his ears. “I need you.”
A hungry, satisfied smile spreads across his face, making him look impossibly more handsome, and more dangerous too. I gasp softly as his touches become more intentional. A hand at my waist. Fingers tucking my hair behind my ear.
Now everything is in earnest. He’s exploring. Seeing what he can get away with.
Gauging how high my dress is under my coat.
“What do you need from me?” he asks, his voice like gravel.
It’s getting harder to talk, especially as his fingers slip beneath my coat and up my thigh.
“I want—I need—to have…”
