Make Me Yours (Bayshore Book 3)

by Ember Leigh

My gut clenches. “What time are you planning on leaving?”

  She shrugs, looking back at Grayson. “Around seven thirty?”

  My heart is thumping in my chest, and all I can hear in my head is this is your chance, this is your chance. “How about this? I’ll help out Mom until then, and then I’ll head out with you guys for a little bit.”

  Grayson sighs, but at least he’s not fighting it. Hazel claps her hands together.

  “Great! We’ll have so much fun. There’s so much to catch up on.”

  She’s got that right. Like the fact that I’ve fingerfucked said best friend into a messy-haired sex coma on more than one occasion, the memory of which I literally cannot move past.

  Mom is grinning mischievously as we say our goodbyes and head back out into the cool November air.

  “There’s something different about you, Dominic,” she muses as we return to the boardwalk and stroll our way back to the neighborhood.

  I say nothing. Because she’s right. I’m not sure what’s different…but I am sure of one thing.

  It has something to do with London.

  Chapter 26

  LONDON

  I’m not gonna lie. If Henry Cavill showed up tonight, I might be the first woman he noticed.

  I went all out. And no, not a turkey onesie in sight. I got my roots done. My lipstick be poppin’. This dress? Don’t even get me started on this dress. It’s made of gold shimmer and sequins exclusively and has been hanging in my closest practically since the start of the year. Just waiting to be flaunted at some unnecessarily fancy event featuring olives as the main dinner course.

  And here I am. Popping olives and sipping the driest martini a girl ever did taste. I’m tucked into a lushly curtained corner of the reception hall of the Bayshore Theatre, where this string quartet is playing what I’m pretty sure is a rousing, classical rendition of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.” Gorgeous, truly, but unexpected.

  Hazel and Gray are supposed to be here around 7:30, but because I was eager to get a head start on my seductress strut, I got here at 7:20. Not that I plan to seduce anyone. The only man I want to seduce doesn’t believe in romance, and he’s safely tucked into his scrubs in the hospital, or beneath his scrubs-lined sheets in his doctor-prison penthouse, back in Cleveland.

  I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want. And god, I want a romance. A man who is ready to sweep me off my feet, and who sweeps his own damn self off his feet in the process. I want to create a magical life with this man.

  And the part that frustrates me most?

  Dominic was almost him. It’s like I could peer into a crystal ball and see our combined future with startling clarity. That future could be…if only. If only any number of things that just aren’t.

  And if I’m being honest with myself, that was the same with Stop-With-The-Fucking-Emails-Already Carl. I could see our happily-ever-after in so many ways. But it just wasn’t that way. And there’s a fine line between hopefulness and delusion.

  I’m not going to be deluded anymore. I want the man who shows up for me, for himself, and for us.

  Okay, maybe I’m being too pensive with my cocktail. I’ve only been thinking about Dom nonstop for a couple months now, why not a little longer? The intensity of my attraction to him—on all levels—is either a signifier of a soulmate or insanity. I’m tending toward the latter.

  “London!”

  Hazel’s voice rings clear over the hullabaloo of voices and violin chords. I seek her out, and there she is, my gorgeous best friend, her mahogany hair swept into retro waves off to one side and falling to a bright red A-line dress, matching red nails, and a red clutch.

  “Hey, girl!” The smile leaps naturally to my lips, but as she glides closer, my gaze falls over her shoulder. There’s someone tall, dark, and handsome across the room, half-turned away from me as he chats with someone. Broad shoulders strain a slate-gray dress shirt paired with dark slacks. Tightly trimmed dark hair gives way to delectable finger waves at the top of his head. Grayson stands at his side, an eerily similar build and height.

  When the two of them turn our way, the icy-hot realization shivers through me.

  I am looking at Dom.

  Dominic freaking Daly.

  His ice blue eyes find mine, and I am paralyzed, staring at him like a gopher trapped in fear as a…whatever hunts gophers descends on it. A hawk? Dominic is definitely a hawk, with the way he’s looking at me. Hazel approaches me and wraps me in a hug, jostling me out of my stupor.

  “What’s wrong, girl?” she asks, gripping me by the arms. “You look like you just saw a ghost. Cute dress, by the way.”

  “Oh, uh—” How do I navigate this ridiculous NDA, on top of not falling at Dom’s feet like a willing, fertile plaything? “I just realized, I might have left my curling iron plugged in.”

  Grayson and Dom approach, two massive walls of gorgeous man. Jesus, maybe it’s better for humanity if Dom and Gray keep fighting. I’m pretty sure I just dropped an egg, along with half the ovulating population of the room. Together, their masculinity and power is somehow quadrupled. God forbid the entire Daly clan get together for a group picture. I’m sure that several women within a five-mile radius would fall dead—or pregnant—immediately, and probably there would be a worldwide extinction of some smaller prairie animal, just because.

  “What up, London!” Grayson pulls me into a friendly side-hug, jostling me a little like he always does. Dom sizes me up from a safe distance away, but no distance is safe. My entire body is on electric pinpricks, wondering where to go from here.

  “Hey, guys,” I say, my voice withering under the intense scrutiny of Dom. Do I pretend I don’t know him? Should I pull the wow, haven’t seen you since you played varsity baseball, not that I attended your games just to watch you, even though I did line? Maybe I should reintroduce myself as if we’re formally reacquainting as the adults we think we are. Instead, all I can come up with is, “Can you believe that quartet is playing Journey?”

  “I thought that sounded really familiar,” Grayson confirms.

  Hazel is unfazed. “We invited Grayson’s brother Dom. Remember him from school?”

  Yes. I remember him from school, and from last month, when his cock was buried so deep in my mouth it touched my brain, Egyptian style. “Yes, of course. Hi, Dom.”

  My heart is racing now. I can barely look at the man, lest my remaining bit of cool evaporate in a defeated puff.

  Dom clears his throat, burying his hands in his pockets. He hasn’t stopped looking at me for even a second. “I’ve run into London a few times in Cleveland.”

  “Oh, you have?” Hazel sounds so delighted by this.

  “We go to the same fancy gym,” I blurt. “It’s actually a little too fancy for me.”

  “Too fancy? What’s the problem, you don’t like imported moist towelettes soaked in the cool glacial waters of the French Alps?” Hazel cracks.

  I snort. “Wow. Honestly, if they had that, I might stay.”

  “It’s a pretentious place,” Dom offers.

  Grayson smirks. “That must be why you like it.”

  Dom’s jaw flexes. Hello, brotherly love. The tension multiplies like dividing cells. Hazel grabs Gray’s hand and gives it a little squeeze.

  “You’d fit right in there,” Dom says, giving his younger brother a friendly clap on the back. Grayson grimaces. “If you ever think about saying hi to me in Cleveland, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  “I don’t know if you have enough space for me in that penthouse,” Gray shoots back.

  “I could clean out a broom closet for you, if needed,” Dom says coolly.

  I bite back a laugh. I shouldn’t be egging this on, much less look like I’m rooting for Dom. I’m not rooting for either of them. I’m rooting for a white flag.

  But I can’t resist joking around a little. “That’s very accommodating,” I say. Hazel snickers.

  “You should go stay in his broom closet,” Hazel says, nudg
ing Grayson. “You’d fit right in at the gym.”

  Grayson narrows his eyes at his girlfriend. “Real funny. I’ll overlook the fact that you’re calling me pretentious. And are you trying to say you want me out of the house?”

  “No, I’ll come with. Because all we need is a broom closet, baby,” Hazel says, her eyes sparkling as Grayson dips down to snag a kiss from her lips.

  “It’s a strictly platonic broom closet,” Dom clarifies, but it doesn’t matter. Hazel and Gray are giggling like schoolkids while making out right in front of us. I shake my head and catch Dom’s gaze over Gray’s shoulder. I look away quickly, ready to move on. Away from the blatant kissing, yes, but also away from the man who makes me quiver at the memory of his kisses.

  “I’m going to get a drink,” I announce to my lip-locked friends, tipping the last of my dry martini into my mouth. It’s my first one, so I’m still good, but I need to be careful. As much for taking care of my blood alcohol content as protecting myself from Dom’s magnetic gaze.

  Because the truth is, seeing him tonight has solidified something: I fucking want him. Still. And I’m too chickenshit to hear the truth about his dating status anymore. I don’t want to know that he’s finally engaged or banging Julianne on the daily. I just want that vulnerable man I knew back in the sunshine-filled penthouse, asking me to marry him like he fucking meant it.

  Have I gone crazy?

  “I’ll take another dry martini, please.” I pop the P just as a familiar vetiver tang reaches me. Dom has sidled up beside me, angling himself directly at me. Making it more than clear that he intends to occupy my attention.

  I glance up at his blue gaze only briefly before deciding it’s too hard.

  “London,” he says.

  “What?” I snap, but I can’t turn away from him. A little bit of that radiator-grade heat is reaching me. Sinking into me. Making me feel reckless. “Why’d you follow me?”

  A little smirk toys at his lips. “I wanted a drink.”

  “Oh. Well, go ahead.” I step away, and he watches me for a moment, running his tongue over his top teeth. The bartender takes his order and credit card while we stare awkwardly at each other from opposite ends of the bar. Another person steps up to place an order in the middle of our standoff, giving us both a polite smile and probably wondering why she suddenly feels like wilting.

  Dom’s jaw is flexing nonstop as he watches me. My gaze flits between our slow-as-molasses bartender and Dom, wondering which one will cause my early demise first.

  Dom breaks first. He pushes away from the bar and comes to my side, leaning so close, I can feel his heat again. So close that when I close my eyes, all I can see is that shy smile he gets when he serves me breakfast in the morning.

  “London,” he says again, and this time I catch the urgency in his voice.

  “Why are you here?” I honestly don’t know if I’m disgruntled or overwhelmingly relieved. I fear it’s the latter.

  “I told you,” he says in that infuriatingly sexy baritone. “I wanted a drink.”

  “No. I mean in Bayshore. I thought you were supposed to be doing open heart surgery or saving people’s lives in Cleveland right now.”

  “I cleared my schedule.” He sniffs, scanning the party over my shoulder. “I thought I could use some time off.”

  My brows draw together. Doesn’t sound like the Dom I know. “Well, yeah. I think everyone agrees you could use some time off.”

  “That and…” He pauses, and it’s heavy, like he’s double- and triple-checking whether he should continue. “I thought I should come see my family.”

  My throat clamps at that, and I look away. Do not get emotional right now, London, swear to olives you will not get emotional.

  “Oh,” I manage to say. “That’s nice. How are your brothers?”

  “Connor’s not coming home this year, since he and Kinsley started their business. Maverick’s a little pissed at life, and Weston…I honestly have no idea where he is. Mom’s pretty sure he’s going to show up by lunch tomorrow though.”

  I snicker. “Sounds like a typical Daly brother report. And Grayson?”

  “Well you know how he is,” Dom replies.

  “Yes, but do you?”

  Dom wets his bottom lip, understanding creasing his face. “Not yet. But I’m getting there.”

  Thankfully, the bartender shows up with my drink at the exact moment the tears are threatening at the corners of my eyes. I don’t know where they came from or why this is making me want to weep like a Hallmark movie, but here I am. Maybe I’m actually ovulating. If that’s the case, then I’m fucked. Because there will be no force in the world great enough to keep me from mounting Dominic Daly.

  The bartender hands over a second dry martini then, which Dom scoops up. When my brow arches, he says, “I got whatever you got.” He takes a sip, then nods. “This’ll do.”

  I glance across the room and catch Hazel smiling over at us. Panic slinks through me.

  “Dom, I don’t know how to do this.” I force a bright smile and wave at Hazel across the room, holding up one finger so she knows to wait for me. “We signed a contract, and now they’re here, and…”

  “I know. I don’t care.” He glances over at his brother and Hazel then looks down at me, his serious features making my knees weak. “We don’t have to explain anything we don’t want to. In fact, here’s what we’ll do. You and I will drink these as fast as possible, and then we will quietly disappear and make our way to my car, where we will make out like teenagers until I convince you to come to a hotel room I’m thirty seconds away from booking.”

  My eyes flutter shut. Not with the sexy talk. Now I’m really doomed. “Dom—”

  “I’ll get us the best suite in Bayshore. Lake view and all. For the morning.” He steps closer, blocking my view of the rest of the room. I tip my head back. Dominic consumes me. He is all I can see. All I can smell. All I can conceive of. In a lower voice, almost a growl, he adds, “Believe me when I say you look fucking gorgeous in this dress. It’s just that I need you naked and laid out so I can give you what we’ve both been dying for, London.”

  I bite my lip. Every inch of my body is screaming yes. “And your status…is…”

  “Single, but not ready to mingle. Just waiting for one woman.”

  A grin tugs at my lips. “Oh yeah? Who is she?”

  “You know her. Her name sounds like a famous city.”

  I fake gasp. “You’re waiting for Paris Hilton? I doubt she even knows where Bayshore is. You’re gonna be waiting for a long time, buddy.”

  He grins, setting his drink down on the bar behind me. Then he cups my face in his hands, bringing his lips dangerously close to mine. “The longer we wait, the more questions they’ll have.”

  “If she’s seen you touching me like this, she already has a hundred of them,” I say.

  He wets his bottom lip again, his gaze dipping to my lips. “I’ve got a hundred of something I want to give to you.”

  I giggle. “Dr. Daly, don’t be so naughty. We’re still in public.”

  “A hundred laughs,” he clarifies with a mischievous grin, just before dipping down to press his impossibly soft lips against mine. When he pulls away, my lipstick is on his mouth. I gasp, hurrying to wipe away the evidence.

  “We can’t kiss,” I whisper. “This is a new lipstick, I didn’t know…”

  “Fine. I’ll contain myself until you give me the word.” He leans forward, bringing his lips to my ear. “Just know that you won’t make it out of the parking lot before I make you come.”

  A shiver races through me. I take a big sip of my martini, the alcohol and lust streaking through my veins like it’s a race. I think it’s time to close my tab. I signal for the bartender’s attention, and when I ask him to close my tab, he shrugs.

  “He already took care of it,” the bartender says, jerking his chin at Dom. Dom watches me with a shit-eating grin on his face.

  I should have known from the second
I laid eyes on him that it would end up like this. Quiet dirty talk at the bar of an unnecessarily fancy gala. Secretly buying my drinks. An attraction that doesn’t just sizzle, it pops out of the frying pan and scalds an eyeball. There’s something too wild and passionate between us to control it. The most I could have hoped for was ignoring it. But now? I’m ready to become its victim again.

  “You know what you did right here?” I ask, nudging Dom with my shoulder. “You just romanced the shit out of me.”

  “I’ll make the reservation,” he says, pulling out his phone.

  “Good.” My gaze swings to find Hazel and Gray across the room, buried in a conversation with one of the city commissioners. “I’ll go start saying bye.”

  Maybe they didn’t see anything. For right now, that’s all I can hope for. I’ll figure out what to tell Hazel later.

  All I know is that something has shifted inside Dom…and I’m powerless to resist the tide.

  Chapter 27

  DOM

  I stay true to my word. London comes before we even leave the parking lot.

  Burying my hand in her panties is all it takes. Massaging that gorgeous, hard clit of hers until she throws herself against my leather seat and moans my name.

  Once clarity returns to her eyes, I bring the back of her hand to my lips, my kiss grazing her knuckles.

  “Dom,” she breathes, her gaze falling to my crotch. I’ve been rock hard since I cornered her at the bar.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll sit on it.” I lean across the console and brush a kiss to her forehead. She laughs throatily.

  “So where’s our home for the night?”

  “Some new boutique hotel downtown.” I adjust my pants before I start the car. It hums to life as London checks herself out in the mirror and replaces her sparkly dress over her legs.

  “Oh! I know what one you’re talking about. They renovated an abandoned factory. Apparently the rooms are really nice.” She leans over to look at me, swiping her thumb over my mouth. “You have lipstick all over your face.”