Awfully bossy for a man on his knees.
“Isn’t the person on their knees usually the onetakingorders?”
“Is that something you want, angel?” He cocks a brow at me while his hands are busy unhooking the straps of my garter belt. “Me on my knees, taking orders from you?”
The idea of bossing this impossible man around brings a smile to my face, but I don’t know how satisfying it would be in the moment. I would probably spend the whole time in my head, worrying about looking and sounding silly, instead of enjoying having him at my beck and call. I run my hand over his hair just because I can.
“One day, maybe. Right now, the only thing Itrulywant is for you to take your clothes off. You’ve seen every inch of me, and all I’ve seen of you are your forearms.”
My statement is punctuated by the removal of the last lace cuff around my thigh. Standing there fully naked, I arch a brow and Dominic smirks at me before standing up. He’s so tall. Without my heels, I feel small and feminine beside him. Without my clothes on, I feel exposed and vulnerable, especially when my nakedness forces me to acknowledge that he’s remained fully dressed.
Again.
Each time we’ve been together, I’ve been the one putting it all out there: losing it on his leg, baring myself to him as soon as he crossed my threshold, and dissolving into a puddle of mush every time he put hishands on me. All while he’s held it together. Managing to walk away with nothing besides the few changes only I notice on his person, indicating his world has just been turned upside down by my existence. And it’s disconcerting.
Dominic lifts my chin, and I know from the moment our eyes meet that he sees it. All of my thoughts are on display for him. “Every time I touch you is a gift, Sloane. One I don’t know if I’m going to get to keep, which means I want to rush this more than anything. I want to dive headfirst into your eyes and never come up for air. I want to use every part of my body to bring pleasure to yours, but—” His eyes fall shut, a pained expression crossing his features before he schools them into something less devastating. “Last time I pushed you too far and scared you. Hell, I scaredmyself, and that can’t happen again. You need to be able to trust me, and if we do anything else tonight, I’m not going to be able to control myself. You deserve more than that, especially if this is the first time since…”
My head bobs up and down, letting him know I understand exactly what he means.
“It is. I haven’t wanted this with anyone else, although, a part of me wishes I could. That’s why I went out with Ash tonight, but I just…can’t.”
I finish lamely, ignoring the way Dominic’s eyes darken when I say Ash’s name. His hand goes to my nape, pulling me forward to meet his ardent mouth. He kisses me with a tenderness that’s the perfect answer to my confession. I wrap my arms around his neck, sliding my naked body against him and wishing his clothes would just disappear. Dominic palms both of my ass cheeks in his large hands and squeezes before breaking the kiss with a reluctant growl.
“Is that what you call slow?”
I just stare at him and lick my lips. I love that my taste is still on his tongue. He takes a step back, eyeing me like a wild animal who might attack at any moment, which, in all honesty, is exactly what I am.
“Shower.” He points a commanding finger at me and then at the walk-in behind me, and I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of him giving me directions to my shower. “I’m going to wait in the bedroom.” He hooks a thumb toward the door that he’s currently edging toward, and I’m hit with a sudden and strong sense of déjà vu. Just like when he first called me angel.
The feeling Dominic and I have lived through a very similar scene sticks with me as I wash my face and shower. I towel off, lotion up, and throw my hair in a loose pineapple before slipping on a robe. All while trying to call up the full image that doesn’t seem to want to come. I’m mildly irritated by my brain’s inability to fully form the image, but it disappears the moment I walk out of my bathroom and find a man—naked except for a pair of black boxer briefs that were made for the sole purpose of accentuating the curve of his ass—pulling back the duvet on my bed.
The sight stops me in my tracks, and I don’t know if I’m more shocked that there’s a man in my room or that the man is Dominic, but I can’t stop staring at him. Hungry eyes roving over smooth bronze skin, unblemished save for the small numerical tattoo on his ribs that I can’t make out from where I’m standing, with muscles I’ve grown used to feeling pressed against my body rippling underneath.
Swollen pectorals with a light dusting of dark curls, abs that would make any woman in her right mind drool, especially because the indentations on either side of his waist are like an arrow, directing you to the bulge hidden inside his underwear. I lick my lips and wonder if it’s normal to feel jealous of cotton. Dominic catches me staring and a playful smile curves his lips as he takes in my stunned face.
“Which side do you sleep on?”
His question gets the wheels of my brain turning again. “I like the right side, but I’m happy to take the left if you’ll be more comfortable there.”
He shakes his head. “No need. I prefer the left side.”
I smile at him then resume my trek to my dresser, slipping on a pair of boy shorts before opening the top drawer in search of a shirt to wear to bed. My fingers freeze as they brush over the familiar fabric of Eric’s shirt, the one I sleep in every night, and I want to kick myself. In all my obsessing over getting a man in my bed, I hadn’t stopped to consider what would happen when he got there.
Most men probably wouldn’t notice if I chose to sleep in a threadbare T-shirt, and they wouldn’t automatically assume it belonged to my late husband, but this is Dominic, and it’s a shirt Eric got as a part of his graduation kit when he was a senior at Lakewood High—the school they attended together. He’ll recognize it right away and probably think I’m a crazy widow who can’t let her dead husband go even when she’s got someone else’s arms wrapped around her.
I could just get another shirt to sleep in or wear one of the many silly pajama sets Mama has gotten me for Christmas over the years, but that doesn’t sit right with me. It feels too much like kicking Eric out of my bed because I’ve invited someone else into it.
“I can hear the wheels in your mind spinning. What’s going on?”
Chapter 17
Dominic
Now
Sloane turns around slowly, her face stricken with something between panic and guilt. Seeing that expression on her face when I’m practically naked in her bed hasmefeeling panicked, but understanding washes over me as my eyes settle on what she’s holding in her hands.
A senior shirt from Lakewood High.
