The Dating Experiment (The Experiment, #2)(6)

His eyes pierced mine. Strong. Sturdy. Intense. That was his gaze, pinning me in place despite the fact there were a good ten feet between us.

“I genuinely don’t know how I haven’t killed you yet,” he said in a low voice. “But fuck me, I know why you’re single.”

No. You don’t. You have no idea.

“Enlighten me, then.” I folded my arms over my chest and held the eye contact.

His eyebrows shot up as if he wasn’t expecting me to say it, but it didn’t last long. “Enlighten you? You’re prickly. You’re snappy and short-tempered. You’re incorrigibly frustrating, and you have the demeanor of a desert full of cactuses.”

“Cacti,” I corrected him. “And that’s a repeat of prickly.”

He jabbed his finger at me. “You’re picky and can’t help but point things out to people when they get it wrong.”

“It’s called education. You should try it sometime.”

“I have a degree.”

“Yeah, but a Masters in assholery doesn’t count.”

“I might have a degree in assholery, but you’re teaching the damn class.”

“And everything I’m teaching I learned from the textbook you’ve written over the last twenty-five years.”

Dom choked in something that sounded a little too much like a laugh, but he brushed it off before I could take even a second to revel in that. “This is why you’re single. Seriously. You’re so…so…”

I raised my eyebrows. “Quick-witted that mere mortals can’t keep up with me?”

“Full of shit,” he finished. “You’re so full of shit. Nobody, absolutely nobody, could ever hope to keep up with your ability to flip between sweet and innocent angel and intolerably angry devil.”

“Nobody? I doubt that. There’s probably someone out there who won’t piss me off nearly as much as you do.” I picked up my coffee and sipped.

“I doubt he lives on this planet. Maybe not even in this galaxy.”

“The same could be said for the woman who could take your shit. You lose everything, you’re careless, and you’re so insensitive to everybody around you. You’d need a fucking saint to put up with you.”

“You need more than a saint, Chloe. You need a damn God.”

“So find him.”





Chapter Three – Chloe


There was a reason they called it verbal diarrhea.

It was shit.

“What?” Dom froze and stared at me. “Find him? You want me to search the universe for the guy who can put up with you?”

No.

Why did I say that?

I mean, yes.

I did. I wanted him to find me someone to date, but not like this. I wanted it to be a gentle conversation—like those ever happened—and not in the middle of one of our screaming matches.

But, hell. Screw it. I’d said it. I had to follow through with it.

“Yes,” I replied, setting my mug down and pretending I’d totally meant to say it. “You think you can’t, so find him. I bet there’s someone in our database who’d be a good fit for me.”

“I think you’ve lost your mind, Chloe.”

“I dare you.” My lips twitched up into a smirk. “I dare you to find me someone to date.”

His jaw clenched, and the twitch at the corner of his eye gave away his frustration.

Dom was many things, but a chicken was not one of them. As evidenced by the dare he’d had with his sister about falling in love with a hook-up.

I knew he’d accept. There was no way he wouldn’t. He might hate it, but he’d do it.

“Fine.” He scratched the back of his neck, averting his eyes for a brief second. They landed back on me with a hard gaze that was indescribable. Stormy and intense. Dark and reserved, they made a shiver run down my spine. “But, if I’m matching you, you’re finding me a date, too.”

Wait.

No.

I didn’t sign up for that.

“Um…You want me to match you?” I asked warily. “Aren’t you worried I’ll put you with a demon of a woman?”

Dom’s nostrils flared. “Yes. Terrified, actually, but it seems fair. If I’m matching you, you match me. And we both have to stick out three dates.”

“What is your obsession with the number three?”

“It’s the average number of orgasms I give a woman during sex,” he said without batting an eyelid. “It’s the magic number. It’s enough to know if you’re compatible with the person you’re dating, but not so much you want to stab yourself with a fork.”

Well. He had a point, as much as I hated to admit it.

“Fine,” I replied, using the same tone he had. “I’ll find you a date. But, and we both promise on this, we won’t fuck around. We’ll actually find each other someone decent. Compatible. Good people.”

He nodded quickly. “Done. How long do we have?”

“Three is the magic number, according to you, so three days.” I swallowed. “We blind date at the same time on the same day and report back the next morning.”

Something flashed across his features for a moment, but whatever it was disappeared quickly, and he schooled his expression into one of indifference. “Three days including today?”