37. His Sinner
Chapter thirty-seven
His Sinner
The dream starts like a memory, but it’s warped, too vivid in some places and blurred in others.
I’m back in that cell, but this time, there are no bars separating us. Dominic is sitting next to me, close enough that I can feel the heat of him, his shoulder brushing mine every time he shifts.
The walls are just as cold, the air just as damp, but somehow, it doesn’t feel as suffocating as it did back then.
We’re sitting on the floor, our knees bent, and I’m talking, my words spilling out faster than I can think. I don’t know why I’m telling him this, but I can’t stop.
Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me, his dark green eyes steady, sharp, like they’re cutting through all the bullshit I usually hide behind.
“It was my senior prom,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “Everyone was there—my friends, my classmates, my parents, even. And my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend now—thought it’d be the perfect time to… you know. Humiliate me.”
Dominic’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything, waiting for me to continue.
“He showed up late, made this big entrance like he was some kind of prince,” I say, my voice trembling. “And then, in front of everyone, he broke up with me. Said he couldn’t stand to be seen with me anymore. That I was—” My throat closes up, but I force the words out. “That I was a disgusting pig.”
There’s a long pause, the silence stretching out between us, and I glance at Dominic, expecting him to look uncomfortable or disinterested. But his eyes are burning, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, like he’s barely holding himself back.
“He said that to you?” he asks, his eyes dark, his tone laced with something deadly.
I nod, my cheeks burning with shame. “In front of everyone. I left the gym in tears. I didn’t even grab my stuff. I just… ran.”
Dominic exhales sharply, his fists clenching tighter. “What’s his name?” Dominic demands, his tone sharp enough to make me flinch.
“What?” I ask, confused, glancing at him.
“His name,” he says again, his teeth clenched. “Because if I ever see that piece of shit, I’ll make him regret the day he was born.”
“Dominic, it was forever ago,” I say, shaking my head, though a small part of me feels oddly comforted by his reaction. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“The hell it doesn’t,” he snaps, his eyes blazing. “You don’t do that to someone. You don’t tear them down like that, especially not someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” I echo, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, you,” he says, his voice softening slightly, though the anger is still there, simmering just under the surface. “You’re smart, funny, stubborn as fuck, and yeah, you’re soft. So what? That’s not a bad thing, Aria. It’s a fucking gift.”
I blink, caught off guard by his words. “A gift?”
“Yeah,” he says, leaning in slightly, his eyes locked on mine. “You think I don’t notice? The way your curves fit against me, the way your body feels under my hands? It drives me insane, in the best way.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I look away, trying to process what he’s saying. “You’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m not,” he says firmly, his hand brushing against mine. “I don’t lie to you, Aria. Not about this.”
I swallow hard, my chest tight, and for a moment, I can’t bring myself to look at him. But then he speaks again, his voice is softer this time, almost hesitant.
“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” he murmurs, his gaze fixed on the floor now. “But I feel like… I don’t know. Like I’m falling for you.”
I freeze, my breath catching in my throat, and when I finally manage to look at him, his expression is raw, unguarded in a way I’ve never seen before. He looks vulnerable, and it terrifies me almost as much as it comforts me.
“Dominic…” I whisper, but he cuts me off, leaning in closer, his hand reaching up to cup my cheek.
“I know it’s insane,” he says, his voice rough, his thumb brushing against my skin. “I know we’re in the middle of hell, and this shouldn’t make sense. But it does. You make sense to me, Aria. You’re the only fucking thing that does.”
Before I can respond, his lips are on mine and I melt into him without thinking. His hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and for a moment, everything else fades away.
The cold walls, the damp air, the fear—all of it disappears, leaving just him.
When I wake up, my heart is pounding, and it takes a moment for reality to settle in. I’m not in the cell. I’m in Dominic’s bed, my head resting on his chest, his arm draped possessively around me.
His heartbeat is steady under my ear, his warmth wrapping around me like a cocoon. I lay there, frozen, the dream still vivid in my mind, his words echoing in my ears: I feel like, I don’t know… like I’m falling for you.
I stiffen slightly, trying to pull away, but his arm tightens around me, his voice rough with sleep.
“Where do you think you’re going, Little Sinner?” I freeze, my breath hitching, and he chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Thought you’d run off in your dreams too?”
I don’t respond, my cheeks burning as the memory of the dream lingers; his words, his touch, too vivid to ignore. He shifts slightly, his hand brushing against my back, and I hate the way it makes my heart race.
“Dominic,” I murmur, my voice shaky, but he just hums, his eyes still closed. I hesitate, my chest tight, before finally whispering, “Do you think… do you think we could’ve had something? Back then?”
His eyes open slowly, his gaze locking on mine, and for a moment, he just looks at me. Then he smirks, his hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck. “We already did,” he says simply. “You just forgot.”
Dominic’s words hang in the air like a storm cloud, dark and heavy. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to block them out, but they sink in, wrapping around my chest and pulling tight.
You just forgot.
The worst part is, I can feel the truth in them, like an itch at the back of my mind that I can’t quite reach.
His hand stays on my neck, his thumb brushing small circles against my skin, a movement so casual it’s like he doesn’t realize what it’s doing to me.
My heart pounds, and I’m acutely aware of every inch of him—his warmth, the weight of his arm holding me in place, the faint scent of pine and something darker, something that’s undeniably him.
“You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs, his voice rough but quieter now, like he’s reading my mind. “I can see it. Feel it.”
I let out a shaky breath, my eyes still closed. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“Don’t I?” he asks, his tone low, teasing, but there’s an edge to it, sharp and knowing. “You’re wondering if I’m right. If you forgot because it was too much, too real, and you couldn’t handle it.”
I flinch, the words cutting deeper than I want to admit, but I force myself to stay still, to not let him see how much he’s getting to me.
“Or maybe,” he continues, his voice soft but relentless, “you’re remembering just enough to scare the shit out of you. Because if you remember everything, you’ll have to face the fact that you didn’t just survive in that cell. You found something in there. With me.”
“Stop,” I whisper, my voice trembling, but he doesn’t.
“You felt alive,” he adds, his grip on my neck tightening. “And you hated it, didn’t you? Hated that in the middle of all that chaos, all that fear, I was the only thing that made you feel like you were more than just a victim.”
I open my eyes, glaring up at him. “You’re so fucking arrogant,” I snap, my voice sharper than I mean it to be. “You think you’re the center of everything, don’t you?”
He smirks, completely unfazed. “Only when it comes to you, Little Sinner.”
“Stop calling me that,” I bite out, trying to push his arm away, but he doesn’t budge, his strength a reminder of just how powerless I am against him when he decides he’s not letting me go.
“Why?” he asks, his smirk fading, replaced by something more serious. “Because it reminds you who you are when you’re with me?”
I glare at him, my chest heaving, but I don’t respond. I can’t. Because he’s right again, and I hate it. Hate him for knowing me so well, for breaking down every wall I’ve built like they’re nothing but paper.
He leans in close, his face inches from mine, his eyes boring into me like they’re trying to strip me bare. “You can run from it all you want, Aria,” he says, every word a blade slicing through my defenses. “But you and I both know the truth. You’ve always been mine.”
“That’s not true,” I say, my voice weak, cracking under the weight of everything he’s throwing at me.
“Isn’t it?” he challenges, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Tell me, then. Why are you here? Why didn’t you run when you had the chance? Why do you let me get this close if you hate me so much?”
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to breathe, let alone speak.
“Because you won’t let me leave,” I whisper, even though I know it’s not entirely true.
He chuckles softly and leans back slightly, his hand still brushing against my cheek. “Won’t let you leave?” he repeats, his voice dripping with mockery. “Oh, Little Sinner, you’re giving me too much credit.”
I frown at this, my irritation dimming. “You mean you’re not?”
“The doors aren’t locked,” he says casually, like it’s a throwaway comment. “Your keys are downstairs by the door. And your bike is in the driveway.”
I freeze, my stomach twisting as his words sink in. “What?”
“You heard me,” he says, his smirk widening. “You’re not being kept here, Aria. Not physically, anyway.”
My heart pounds, my breath catching in my throat as I stare at him, trying to figure out if he’s lying. “Why would you—”
“Because I don’t need to lock you in,” he says, cutting me off. “You’re not here because I’m keeping you. You’re here because you haven’t left.”
“That’s not true,” I snap, though the words feel hollow, like they’re crumbling under the weight of his gaze.
“Isn’t it?” he challenges, tilting his head slightly. “Go ahead, then. Get up, walk out that door, grab your keys, and ride off into the sunset. No one’s stopping you.”
I stare at him, my chest tight, my mind racing. He’s lying. He has to be. He’s just messing with me, trying to get into my head again. But the way he’s looking at me, so calm, so sure—I can’t tell.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly. “Why play this game?”
“It’s not a game,” he says, his tone sharper now, his smirk fading. “It’s the truth. You can leave whenever you want. But you won’t. Because no matter how much you fight it, no matter how much you tell yourself you hate me, you don’t want to leave.”
I shake my head, my hands trembling as I grip the edge of the blanket. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“Maybe,” he says, shrugging one shoulder. “Or maybe I just know you better than you know yourself.”
“You don’t know me,” I snap, the words coming out more like a defense than anything else.
“Oh, I know you,” he says, his voice low, dangerous. “I know the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. I know the way your body reacts to my touch, no matter how much you try to fight it. And I know that deep down, you don’t want to leave this bed, this house, me. ”
I swallow hard, my throat tight, and for a moment, I can’t speak. Because I can feel the truth in his words, even as I try to deny it. “You’re wrong,” I say finally, though my voice is shaky, unconvincing.
“Am I?” he asks, leaning in closer, his face inches from mine. “Then prove me wrong, Aria. Get up and walk out. I promise I won’t stop you.”
I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest. I should call his bluff, should get up and leave just to spite him, to prove him wrong. But my body doesn’t move, my legs refusing to cooperate, and the weight of his gaze pins me in place.
“That’s what I thought,” he says softly, his smirk returning. “You can lie to yourself all you want, Little Sinner. But you can’t lie to me.”
I breathe out a sigh, having had enough of this fucking push and pull that seems to harden his fucking cock to no end.
“Goodnight, Dominic,” I mutter, my voice brittle as I turn over, pulling the blanket tight around me and shutting my eyes.
“Goodnight, Little Sinner,” he murmurs back, the nickname sending a shiver down my spine even though I wish it wouldn’t.
I feel him shift beside me, and for a moment, I let myself wonder what it would feel like to trust him, to let go of my apprehension. But that’s not who I am. That’s not who he is.
Minutes drag by, maybe hours, and I don’t move, barely even breathing as I wait for the tension in his body to melt away into sleep. It’s agonizing, every second stretching into an eternity, but eventually, his breathing slows, deep and steady.
His arm, which had been resting just inches from me, goes slack, and I risk opening my eyes, turning my head slightly to look at him.
Even asleep, he’s too much. Too intense, too sharp, too fucking Dominic. His dark hair falls across his forehead, his lips parted slightly, but his face is still hard, like he’s ready to wake up at the slightest noise.
I stare at him for a long moment, my heart twisting in ways I don’t want to understand.
You can leave whenever you want.