Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“No,” I said immediately, then I frowned. Technically I was still a virgin, but hadn’t I had sex? Where was the line exactly? His fingers and his tongue had been inside me. I’d seen stars.
“Oh my God,” Christi moaned again. “I wish we could sue our parents. You don’t even know if you had sex or not. It’s okay. Tell me everything, and I’ll decide.”
I tried to dodge past her into my room, but she blocked my way. “I didn’t have sex,” I said more definitively this time. “And I’m not giving you details.” I managed to slip past her into my room, but she followed me in.
“Do you want to?” Christi danced from foot to foot, too excited to stand still when I gave a small nod.
Christi felt the shift in my mood. Her bouncing slowed to a stop. Her eager smile faded. “Hey, are you okay? Was it–do you regret it?”
“We didn’t have sex.” I busied myself with changing. Anything to keep from meeting her eye. “He wouldn’t.”
“Something happened though. I can tell.” Christi waited until I’d pulled my sleep shirt over my head, then came over and hugged me from behind. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I didn’t, but somehow we ended up back out on the couch, the popcorn bag between us. I didn’t tell my sister what had happened, but I did tell her what hadn’t and why.
“Of course he’s going slow. If he didn’t, he’d be a dick,” she said when I was done. “Being someone’s first is a big deal.”
“Yeah, for me. I don’t see why it’s such a big deal for him.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not asking him for a commitment of any kind. I just…I want him.”
Christi’s expression was soft and a little sad. “Selena, you know that’s not true. Listen to your wording. You want him, and you’re not the kind of girl to have no-strings-attached sex.”
I shook my head stubbornly. “Maybe some strings would be nice, but even without them, I want him. No one has ever made me feel like this. Maybe no one ever will again. I want to feel everything before he’s gone.”
Christi reached over to squeeze my hand. Her expression was soft and wise. “Do what feels right, Selena, just be careful.”
My eyes dropped to her still-flat belly. “I will.”
“I meant with your heart.”
I didn’t know if I’d see Dominic again until we went to Jake’s mom’s house for Thanksgiving, but to my surprise, I saw him nearly every day. He showed up at Mrs. Kloss’s house over the weekend while Christi and I were over, planning the layout of the party.
“Hi,” I said, startled, when the doorman led him into the smaller breakfast room off the kitchen where we were working on the arrangements. “What are you doing here?”
Mrs. Kloss had a sudden urge to get Christi’s opinion on the centerpiece Christmas tree in the great room, and the two of them slipped out of the room, leaving us alone.
Dominic nodded at them absently, but his gaze stayed fixed on mine. “Maybe I wanted to see you.”
His words made me feel hot and breathless and giddy all at once. “You came to the right place,” I whispered.
He glanced around as if he disagreed. “Mine would be better, but I figured I could do some budget mitigation while I was here.”
A lethal dose of irritation killed off the fluttering butterflies in my stomach. I grabbed for the notebook I was working from, but Dominic was too fast. He had it in his hands before I could get it away from him. He pulled a chair close to mine and sat down, careful to keep it out of reach even as his thigh met mine.
Gooey warmth threatened to suffocate the irritation. He was here, like Christmas come early. He was touching me. If he’d put down that stupid notebook, he could kiss me until Mrs. Kloss and Christi came back. We’d hear them talking a mile a minute long before they got to the kitchen.
Then he said, “A live act? Selena, she doesn’t have a million dollars for Mariah fucking Carey.”
And just like that, thoughts of kissing him were replaced with thoughts of strangling him. “We couldn’t get Mariah fucking Carey on Christmas Eve for less than ten million,” I said, trying to snatch the notebook from his hands. “The live act is band that specializes in Christmas music. Not an A-lister.”
“Good.” Dominic continued to hold it out of my reach easily with one hand, but the other crept around my waist and pulled me against him. He looked down at me, seemingly amused by the war of want and frustration I was losing on all fronts. “You’re still in budget?”
“Yes, we’re still in budget,” I hissed, annoyed. “Is that really what you came here for?”