by Emma Hart
To make sure that my memory of the first one was real and not something I’d accidentally cooked up when I should have been working.
“Well?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “Are you gonna? Either kiss me or get the hell out of my house.”
He stalked toward me, expression unreadable, muscles visibly tensed. The veins in his forearms stood out, snaking down the insides of his arms, and one fist was clenched tight if the whiteness of his knuckles was anything to go by.
“Fine. Don’t. Then you can leave. I’m not going to stand here and be confused by you. If I want to be confused, I’ll reminisce about high school!” I snapped.
“I’m not hesitating because I don’t want to,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m hesitating because I want you so much that if I kiss you, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”
“Did I say I wanted you to?”
“Don’t fuck with me right now, Chlo.”
“Then get the hell out, because you’re fucking with me. Either kiss me or don’t. But if you walk out now and don’t kiss me, you’ll never get another chance; I promise you that.”
As if those words flicked a switch inside him, he reached out, clenched fist slowly moving toward my face. His hand unfurled, the backs of his fingers stroking lightly across my cheek. His eyes followed the slow movement of his hand, and only when the tips of his fingers ghosted along the curve of my jaw, making me shiver, did he lift his gaze to meet mine once again.
This wasn’t heated.
This look, this connection, didn’t feel as though we’d just been screaming at each other. It felt real, like there really was something hiding beneath the anger and frustration we exercised on a daily basis.
This wasn’t how I’d ever planned it to be, but I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t clear the lump in my throat or stop the goosebumps that tickled across my skin as I waited.
For what?
For anything.
For him to move. To touch me again. To say something. To do something.
It felt like…
It felt like he meant it. Like this stupidly long moment where neither of us could move or speak felt like the validation I wanted.
That he wanted me.
It was the confirmation that he wasn’t lying. That he meant it when he said that if he kissed me right now, he was afraid he couldn’t stop. That I meant it; that I didn’t want him to stop.
If that was what it took, if losing myself to him one time meant that I got to feel his lips on mine one more time, I’d do it.
I’d do it a thousand times, over and over, pressing rewind each and every single time.
I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to run my fingertips over the dark stubble that lined his jaw and chin, the very same stubble that made every curve of his lips ten times sexier than it ever had any right to be.
I wanted to close my eyes and breathe him in. Slide my fingers through his hair. Grab his t-shirt. Tear it off. Ease my hands over his body.
I wanted him.
And knowing he wanted me?
It made me do stupid things. Made me want to do stupid things.
His hand, now cupping my jaw, was hot. His fingers burned my skin, and his palm emanated warmth that I felt everywhere. I covered his hand with mine, gingerly moving to link my fingers through his.
Dom dropped his eyes to our hands for a brief second, but they met mine again when I touched my other hand to the side of his face. His stubble was short and rough, scratching against my palm in a way that was almost weirdly satisfying.
If I were a cat, I’d spend all day rubbing my palm against his jaw.
And that was the weirdest part.
“Chlo…”
I cut him off with a shake of my head. I didn’t want him to speak. I wanted him to act. I wanted to know that he wanted me. I wanted to feel it deep down inside my bones. I wanted to know, unconditionally and irrevocably, that he wasn’t here bullshitting me into next week.
So, I leaned forward, closing my eyes, and kissed him.
He didn’t hesitate. His hands snaked around my body, pulling me close to him, and he kissed me back.
It was hot and heavy, deep and desperate. His tongue found mine within seconds, and I held nothing back. I wrapped my arms tight around his neck and pressed my body completely against his.
It was hard and hot, a lot like the grip he had on me. Tingles ran across my skin, causing all the hairs on my arms to stand on end, and I gasped into his mouth. I’d wanted him to kiss me, but I didn’t think he’d kiss me like this.
I thought it’d be slow and tender, his lips testing mine to see how far he could go.
But this?
This was everything but. I clenched my legs together as I felt his cock harden inside his pants. It pressed against me, practically screaming out with how he wanted me.
I felt the same. My clit ached between my legs, and right now, I wished he’d let me go so I could climb him like a koala climbed a damn tree.
Dom pulled back. I peered up at him through my lashes. His eyes were dark and hooded, his jaw tight, as if he were conflicted, like he was trying to figure out how to make sense of what was happening.
“Did you mean it?” he asked, slowly bringing his eyes to mine. “If I walk out, I’ll never have another chance?”
I swallowed. I did—I mean, I had meant it. But now he’d kissed me like that, did I still?
“What if I do mean it?” I asked softly. “I’m not going to sit around and wait for you to make your choice. You either want me now, or you don’t want me at all.”
“Chlo…” He took a deep breath, lowering his forehead to mine. “I’m not leaving. Whether you mean it or not. I don’t think I can leave.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not leaving here until I know what it’s like to have you be mine.”
I didn’t have a chance to say anything. He dipped his face so his lips sealed over mine, rendering my words useless. All I wanted was him. His kiss, his touch, his everything.
I surrendered myself to him, completely. I didn’t care. I could barely think straight, but I knew I wanted this. Whatever it took to be his for one night, I wanted it. I’d do it.
Because I wanted it, too. I wanted to be his. I wanted him to be mine. And if this was it ever was, I’d take it.
I was a fool. I knew that. There was no doubting it, no circling around it. It was sprayed on the side of my house and branded into my forehead.
But fools loved. And when they loved, they loved fully, with all the pureness in their hearts.
So, maybe there were worse things than being a fool in love.
I wound my fingers into Dom’s hair. It was soft and silky and just begged to be run through my fingers.
“Be mine,” Dom whispered against my lips, cupping the back of my head. “Be mine right now.”
“Don’t you think we’ll regret this tomorrow?” I whispered.
“No, I won’t. I can’t regret you.” He kissed me again without giving me a chance to answer.
I didn’t have an answer.
I couldn’t regret him either.
He pulled away once more and grabbed my hand. I followed willingly as he dragged me to the stairs and up them. He paused in the hall, looking left and right.
Grinning, I slipped past him, still holding his hand, and pulled him toward my room. No sooner had I stepped through the door than he yanked me toward him, kissed me, and dove his fingers into my hair.
Together, we staggered back toward the bed, falling when my legs hit the side of the bed. I squealed as we went down, and Dom laughed against my mouth, dipping his head as he used his hands to stop himself falling entirely on top of me.
“Don’t laugh at me,” I murmured, meeting his eyes.
“I’m not laughing,” he said in a voice just as low and soft as mine right before he dropped his lips to mine.
My arms curled around his neck, and my knees bent to wrap my legs around his waist. Our bod
ies couldn’t have been any closer in this moment, and goosebumps dotted my skin, from the base of my neck to the tips of my fingers. A shiver jolted down my spine, making me tremble beneath him.
My heart was thumping. I couldn’t hear a damn thing because my pulse thundered so harshly in my ears. All I could do was feel—feel as Dom’s lips made their way over my jaw to my neck. As he kissed my skin, the pure pleasure of it making me shiver once again.
One of his hands dropped to my thigh, creeping up my leg beneath the loose fabric of the old shirt I was wearing. His fingers probed my skin as he kissed my neck. I never wanted him to stop, but my own hands had other ideas.
I grasped at the top of his t-shirt, yanking the fabric up so he could pull it over his head. He pushed up, kneeling on the edge of the bed, and tugged it over his head. I was no stranger to the sight of Dominic Austin without a shirt on, but this time, it was different.
This time, I didn’t just have to look at the tight packs of muscle on his stomach or the taut muscles on his upper arms. I could touch him—I could grab his arms and run my fingers over his stomach.
Which was what I did. I trailed my fingers over his shoulders, then his chest, then his stomach. My touch faded away the closer I got to his waistband, and he shuddered as I got close to the light ‘v’ that dipped beneath his jeans.
Snatching my wrists up, he pressed them to the bed above my head. He dropped down, kissing me again, his hot body hovering over mine. Red-hot bolts of lust pumped through my body as his mouth danced across my skin, exploring the curve of my neck with his lips.
His hands worked my old shirt up my body higher and higher until it was bunched under my arms. I lifted my shoulders, so he could pull it over and remove it. He tossed it to the side, immediately returning his attention back to me. I was naked except for my panties, and he took full advantage of that.
His hands explored my body, from my hips to my breasts and back down again. His tongue traced a similar path, toying with the curve of my collarbone until he made his way over my chest to my nipple. I gasped as his mouth covered it and his tongue flicked.
A shiver rocketed down my spine, and I squirmed beneath him. My clit ached, and goddamn it, I’d waited too long for this. I didn’t want to wait any longer. I wanted him to get up and get on with it before I went stir crazy with need.
He moved further and further down my body until his head was right between my legs. He dropped kisses to my lower stomach and the inside of my thighs. Tingles covered my skin as his hot mouth slid over my hip, coming closer and closer to the waistband of my last remaining piece of clothing.
Down.
He pulled down my panties, fingers hooked in the waistband. He lifted my legs as he removed them and tossed them to the side. I wriggled as his hands stroked the insides of my legs, parting them.
Kisses to the side of my thighs really had me wiggling. My heart was going crazy, and goddamn it, I could barely breathe as he moved closer and closer to my clit.
Then, he was there. Licking and sucking and toying with it. His hands clamped around my legs, holding me down, holding my hips in place against him as his tongue brought me closer and closer to the edge.
I came with a cry, and Dom’s fingers dug into my thigh as he drew it out for as long as possible. My hips writhed beneath his touch, but he didn’t let up until I’d stilled beneath him.
I threw my arm over my eyes when he moved. I could barely control my breathing as he moved away from me. My whole body was on fire, completely alive, and the next thing I knew, his hands were on my legs again, and he was leaning over me, kissing me.
I wrapped my arm around his neck, kissing him back. His other arm was between our bodies, and I arched my hips up, so he could move inside me.
He did, slow and easy, inch by inch, until he was fully inside. A tiny gasp escaped against his lips, and he smiled, dragging his teeth over my lower lip.
Slowly, he moved, thrusting in and out until I wrapped my legs around his body. As if he took that as his queue, he picked up the pace, moving in and out of me faster.
My nails dug into his skin as heat washed through my body once again. I was borderline delirious—pleasure pumped through my veins as we kissed, and he moved, and I grabbed at his skin. Over and over, I moaned into his mouth. He groaned a few times, too, and all that sound did was send shivers over my skin.
It felt so good. Too good. Too overwhelming and insane and unreal. I arched my back, and Dom pressed his face into my neck, kissing me.
I gripped and gripped and gripped, and then—it happened.
The orgasm washed through me like a bomb exploding. I might have screamed his name. I wasn’t sure. I was barely coherent as it hit. I couldn’t think or breathe or speak, or maybe I could, because who the hell knew what I could or couldn’t do?
Not me.
I came back down to Earth, Dom still inside me, unmoving. His breath was hot as it fluttered against my skin with his labored exhales. His hand gently trailed up and down my side, an easy touch that felt oh-so-good.
Still, the post-orgasmic haze, I had one question.
What did we do now?
Chapter Fourteen – Dom
Emotions.
The greatest enigma of the twenty-first century.
We’d been to the moon, but we still couldn’t control our emotions.
No wonder robots were taking over.
I rubbed my hands down my face. My cock still throbbed with the lingering sensation of being inside her. I had no idea how long I’d been here in the bathroom, sitting on the fucking toilet trying to get my shit together.
What we’d done had changed everything. There was no chance in fucking hell that I was letting her go now. I didn’t give a shit that she still owed what’s-his-face a second date.
I’d wanted her for years, and now I had her, and I wasn’t going to lose her. I knew I faced one hell of an uphill battle because Chloe Collins was anything but easy to understand, and I wasn’t dumb enough to think that just because we’d had sex, that meant something would happen.
She’d once admitted that she’d once crushed on me.
I had a sneaking feeling that the crush wasn’t as far in the past as she’d led me to believe.
I fucking hoped it wasn’t.
I rubbed my hand down my face and stood up from the toilet. My left leg was goddamn dead, and I’d be limping like an idiot pretty soon when the pins and needles kicked in.
I washed my hands, using the bright, polka-dot towel on the rack to dry them, and headed back into the bedroom. What I really wanted was a shower, but I knew Chloe’s temper, and if I stayed in the bathroom much longer, she’d likely accuse me of jumping out of the bathroom window.
I was naked, but that didn’t mean that trail of thought was off-limits to her.
I opened my mouth to ask her what the hell we did now, but the words died on my tongue. She was wrapped around the quilt, blonde hair fanning over the pillows…
Fast asleep.
Either she hadn’t slept last night, or I was better in bed than I thought I was.
And I knew I was damn good, so that was saying something.
I rubbed my hand over my jaw, then grabbed my boxers. There was no use in me trying to wake her up—I’d done that once before, and I’d almost lost my left ball, so I wasn’t going to do that again anytime soon.
I finished getting dressed and headed downstairs. It was completely quiet, meaning the coffee machine seemed stupidly loud as it started up. As the hot liquid sputtered into my cup, I gripped the edge of the countertop and sighed heavily.
Of all the times for Chloe to fall asleep, it was when we needed to talk.
Then again—what the fuck did I plan to say to her anyway? There was no way that what I wanted to say to her would result in anything but an argument. That might have been our M.O., but I preferred to argue before sex rather than after it.
There was a serious lack of make-up options for post-sex arguing.
; No. I wanted to tell her that she was fucking mine. That she had no business going on a date with Warren. That there were no two ways about it. I was in fucking love with her, and now that I knew there was a chance she didn’t completely and utterly hate me, I wasn’t going to let her go easily.
But, if I did, she’d laugh at me. She’d laugh and tell me to get the fuck out of here, because she belonged to nobody but herself, no matter what I thought.
No. If there was a chance for me and her, she had to be the one who raised the green flag. I could only push so far, but for the most part, I would wait.
God only knew I’d waited long enough for her. I could go a little longer.
I pulled my coffee mug from under the machine and finished making it. There was still no movement from upstairs, so I knew she was completely dead to the world.
Which left me with a big-ass problem.
I had a shit ton of work to do, and I didn’t have my laptop with me. If I left, there was every chance she would wake up and be pissed that I wasn’t there.
The last thing I wanted was for her to think I’d fucked her and then ran.
I might have done it in the past, but I’d never do it to her.
Damn it. I was fucked. And not in the way I had been thirty minutes ago.
I much preferred that one.
All right. I could leave her a note. “Gone to the office. Be right back.”
Fuck though, that was lame.
I could text her. But what if she didn’t see it? I didn’t know where her phone was, and knowing Chloe, she’d search the whole house and yell at thin air before she ever considered finding her phone.
I was sure her soul was made of fireworks just waiting to be ignited.
My phone was still in the pocket of my jeans, so I pulled it out and opened my text message chain with my sister.
Did I really want to get her involved in this?
I didn’t have a choice. I knew Chloe would tell her. There wasn’t a damn thing those two hadn’t told each other since the day they met—Mellie, too.
I closed that thread and opened the one with Elliott. He knew I was coming here this morning, and I also knew he wouldn’t tell Peyton unless she forcibly made him.