The Pack Rule Number 1 No Mates novel Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve 

DRAVEN 

It was already time to close up and I still hadn’t seen Domonic. Not that I was really expecting to. I may have wanted to, but of course, that’s not the same thing. I mean, I had said maybe I would see him at the bar. I was hoping he’d catch my meaning, but it wasn’t a clear invitation, so I wasn’t going to pout about it. 

“He’ll be here,” Bart chuckles, wiping down the counter for the final time. 

I pretend not to know what he was talk? 

“Ha! You’ve had stars in your eyes sin 

about. “Who’ll be here?” 

you got here. Every time that door has opened you’ve been on high alert.” 

I snicker as I count up my tips. “I had stars in my eyes because last night I made over six hundred dollars, and I was excited about making more. That – and this is the prettiest city I’ve ever seen, plus I got to walk down the most amazing hillside to get here.” The people out here certainly tipped well, that was for sure. 

He laughed, tossing his washcloth at my face. “I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid.” 

I stick my tongue out at him. “Maybe you’re both. 

Just as Bart pushes the last of the late–night patrons out the door, Domonic walks in. 

“Dom, Bart greets him, giving him a quick hug. 

Domonic looks freshly showered, with his red–brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail that is still slightly wet. My eyes fall over him, from the dark black jacket he wears, to the front of his faded blue jeans. But what really draws my attention, is the thick bulge behind his zipper bringing back memories of that afternoon and causing a sizzle in my panties. 

His dark gray eyes sparkle when he notices where I am looking. “You ready?” 

I nod, not really knowing what else to say. Bart casts me a knowing smile and I flip him off when Domonic has his back turned. 

“Don’t forget about the meeting tomorrow night,” Domonic tells him. 

Bart’s eyes catch mine for a moment, “I won’t forget.” 

I roll my eyes. “You already told me, the bar’s closed tomorrow. I know. I have a date anyway.” 

Bart squints his eyes, “Really? With-” 

“Paul,” Domonic answers. A look passes between the two of them and I pretend not to notice it. 

“Shit,” Bart says. 

“Yeah, Domonic whispers. 

“What?” I ask, stepping between the two. “What’s wrong with Paul, besides that he’s a player?” 

Bart laughs, “He’s not a player. Who told you-” 

“Goodnight Bartlett,” Domonic interrupts, shoving him to hold the door open and push me outside. 

1/3 

14:00 Wed, Nov 

Chapter Twelve 

The ride up the hill is quiet. I didn’t know what Bart was about to say, but I had a pretty good idea. Domonic probably lied about Paul being a player, which could only mean one thing. He was jealous. Maybe, just maybe, he likes me after all. 

But why not admit it? Especially after I practically melted on his lap this afternoon. I shivered at the memory of it. The way his tongue felt on my shoulder, how his hands felt on my skin. I’d never been that aroused before. 

When I jumped off his lap, it had been with a purpose. Maybe not a noble one, but a necessary one. I didn’t want to be a Margo. 

Almost as if he was thinking of the same things, he asks, “How’s your neck.” 

“Surprisingly, fine. You have magical hands.” 

He smirks, turning his attention to me as we pull in the driveway. “Are you tired?” 

“Of course, I’m tired. It was busier tonight than it was yesterday.” 

He sighs, shutting off the engine and glancing out into the trees. “I left your dinner in the fridge.” 

I’d already had dinner at the bar, but I wasn’t going to say so. “Thank you. You really don’t have to do that you know. Bart said I can have whatever is on the menu whenever I want.” 

“Right,” he nods. “How many numbers did you get this time?” 

I lie. “None.” 

“Bullshit.” 

I shrug, “Okay, five. But I threw them all away. Not that it would matter if I kept them, because I don’t have a phone.” 

“Yes, you do,” he says. 

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he side–eyes me, then pulls out a small box with the picture of a phone on the front. 

“What’s this?” I ask when he hands it to me. 

“It’s brand new and already connected. You shouldn’t be without a phone.” 

“Whose name is it under?” I gulp, knowing that if it is under my name that he may have fucked everything up for me. 

“Mine,” he says, reaching across me to place his hand on my seatbelt. His body presses me back into the seat. As luck would have it, this puts the side of his neck right at my lips. I inhale deeply, the pine lemon scent of him invading my nostrils and causing me to tremble. Just an inch forward and I would be kissing that neck. 

“Domonic,” I whisper. 

He freezes for a moment before unbuckling the strap, as if my saying his name prevented him from completing the small task. His face falls forward into the cascade of my hair and I hear him intake a deep breath, his lips cresting my shoulder just barely, I want to pull him in deeper. Want to busy his mouth on the flesh of my neck or force my lips onto his and beg him to fuck me. 

Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me? Am I panting?