“But . . . why?” I can’t shake the feeling I am not what he usually goes for. It’s not that I think little of myself. It’s just that on first glance, we don’t fit.

“Because you’re gorgeous.” He kisses my chin, my neck, the tip of my nose. “And inspiring. And sweet. And caring. That day in my apartment, I didn’t want you to leave. I kept thinking it was a good thing you couldn’t read my mind, because then you would think I was a creeper. Then when we met again, the night I lost my patient . . . sweet Anna . . . it felt like God had sent me a sign. I just knew. Knew our hearts were made out of the same material. Cracked in the same places. That they beat to the same rhythm.”

My forehead falls against his. I close my eyes, trembling. His words are so beautiful. I want to believe each and every one of them. I realize a part of me does. I can’t deny how much my life has changed since Dom entered it. Nora is right. So what if we don’t like the same music or movies, or have the same hobbies? Dom is quickly becoming my best friend. My hot best friend.

“What did you think?” he asks me, his fingers caressing the sensitive spot behind my knee in the water. “The first time we met.”

I decide to tell him the truth. “I felt painfully average looking, you know, in comparison.” That makes him chuckle. “You were hot, put together, and super intimidating. I also thought we had nothing in common.”

He slants his head, studying me. His eyelashes—dark and long and unfairly wasted on a boy—have little drops of water clinging on them, like fallen stars. “I hope that’s changed.”

I kiss him hard in response. We grind against each other in the ocean. The friction and waves lapping on my skin bring me close to the edge. My breasts feel heavy and tender against his body. He lowers his head, takes a nipple between his lips, and sucks on it. His hot tongue is on my ice-cold nipple. I moan, watching my fingers disappear inside his thick hair.

“I need to be inside you.” He drags his teeth along my nipple, making it even more sensitive.

I grab his hand, and we both make our way back to shore. I shimmy out of my soaked underwear and walk backward, hooking a finger and motioning for him to follow. He does, but he no longer looks like Prince Charming. Now he looks like the big bad wolf.

“Lynne.” Dom’s voice has an edge to it now. He is moving toward me, cornering me against a wooden fence. I feel so alive. Oxygen scorches its way to my lungs.

“Yeah?”

“I need a condom.”