Crystal smirked. “Honey, where was your head at? You just moaned and your eyes went crossed.”
“And you have some drool on your chin,” Mia pointed out helpfully.
Gwen felt her face flush as she quickly ran a hand across her mouth. Darn it, there was drool there. Freaking Dominic Brady! “I . . . er . . . was just thinking about dinner.”
“Yeah, sure.” Crystal grinned. “Whatever you say. So anyway, how about drinks at Hawks tonight?”
Mia rubbed her hands together. “Ohhh, going the sports bar route, I like it. Seth would hate it, so it sounds perfect to me.”
Gwen found herself agreeing. Surely an evening out with her friends was better than sulking at home. After all, her ass was big enough and adding another pint of ice cream to it wasn’t going to help things any. Tonight she would have fun and forget all about Mac—and Dominic. How hard could that be?
* * *
Dominic Brady sprawled back on his sofa with a big sigh of contentment. Jet lag was a real kick in the ass. Maybe he was just getting old, but flying to Vegas and back in less than forty-eight hours was not something that he cared to do often. When he was in the Marines, he and his friends had lived for quick trips like that. They’d get a few days off and make the most of it. Sin City was a frequent destination back then. Now, just being home in his apartment in Myrtle Beach was much closer to heaven than the bright lights and the scantily clad women on the strip. Yeah, hell, only thirty-three and he officially sounded old.
The trip this weekend had been for a good cause, though. One of his best friends had gotten married to the woman he’d loved all of his life. It had been a long, rocky, and uncertain road for them, but Mac and Ava had finally worked it out and Dominic couldn’t have been any happier for them. He and Mac, along with Gage Hyatt, owned a company together called East Coast Security. They monitored and provided security for many high-end companies, including Danvers International, which housed their headquarters.
For Dominic, the job and the location fit him perfectly. His family lived in Georgia, so he was close enough to visit when he wanted and far enough away to keep his nosy mother and sister out of his business. He loved them dearly, but they had been trying to find him the “right woman,” since he was potty trained. If he still lived closer to home, they’d be herding single women past him like an assembly line. The fact that his sister had married her high school sweetheart and promptly popped out two kids put only that much more pressure on him.
He had just started on his second Corona and was watching SportsCenter when he heard a sound at his door. It was more like someone moving against the frame than knocking. Biting off a curse, he reluctantly put his beer down on the coffee table and went to check. It was likely no one coming to visit him. His neighbor at the end of the hall liked to party, and even though he always tried to keep the noise down, occasionally there were a few lost strays in the hallway.
Dominic checked the peephole, then pulled back in surprise. This was a new one. He could make out the crown of someone’s head and that was about it. He stood there for a few moments, hoping that the person would just move on. When he heard nothing but silence, he came to the resigned conclusion that he was either going to have to leave them there all night or open the door and encourage them to move on.
Swinging the door open suddenly might not have been the best idea, Dominic concluded, when a soft body landed against his. He heard a feminine giggle, then a “whoops!” He froze in place when hands started roaming his chest and then his torso. “Mmmm, you are sooo hard. . . . I knew you would be.”
What the hell? Just as he registered that what he thought was brown hair through the peephole was actually dark red, his interloper looked up, and he gasped in shock. “Gwen?”
“Dominic,” she purred back, blinking at him with wide eyes like an owl. Her hands continued to roam and he didn’t know whether to be thrilled or sorry that he was wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts. Her hands on his bare skin were having a direct effect on his cock and the silky material wasn’t doing much to contain it. On the other hand . . . it felt good . . . no, amazing.
Maybe he was asleep and this was a dream. There was no way Gwen Day, the woman he’d wanted from the first moment he saw her, was here now, touching him . . . damn near everywhere. “Er . . . Gwen . . . babe, did you need something?” He almost groaned aloud when her hand dropped to cover the bulge in his shorts.
“You could say that,” she moaned as she pushed him back a few steps before shutting the door behind her. Just when he thought this encounter couldn’t get much weirder—or hotter—she leaned down, grabbed the hem of the slinky black dress she was wearing and pulled it over her head in a move that would make a stripper proud. Then she stood before him in nothing but a black lace bra, tiny matching panties, and black strappy sandals. He was completely and totally screwed.
Still trying to be the voice of reason for some crazy reason, Dominic held out a calming hand, saying, “Babe, what’re we doing here? I mean . . . God, you’re gorgeous!” All right, maybe that last line had slipped out before he could stop himself, but holy hell, how was he supposed to stay calm when Gwen was standing in front of him, practically naked, with a come-hither look in her eyes that was making him pant like a dog in heat?
She began to prowl forward and he walked uncertainly backward—which he figured out was a big mistake when he tripped over his coffee table and landed in a heap on the sofa. “Oh goody,” she rubbed her hands together as she stopped a few inches from where he had landed. “It looks like we’re both on the same page.” Then . . . she dropped down to straddle his waist, and it was all over for him. When she grinned before pulling a strip of condoms out of her bra, he almost professed his love on the spot. Who was this woman? She certainly looked like his beautiful neighbor, but that was where the similarities ended.