Chapter 30
Dom
Imoved through the foyer of my building and climbed the stairs towards my flat, my heart heavy, dreading returning to the dark place I called home.
It was more like a transitory space, where I was either eating or fucking.
Until I stole Molly’s phone. Then it was just a place for me to sleep and wank. Now it wasn’t even that.
Christian had vanished, though Grace said he was safe. Cat’s schedule was filled with being pregnant, and the only social life in my future was the one I made for myself with no Fischers at all.
I mean, I wasn’t exactly going to go to a club with Grace, or hang out with Jazz when she was halfway across the world working on a film. Even if Harry told me to back off, they were my friends too.
I’d become too dependent on them, trusting that I had home there. I should have remembered the lessons Mum had taught me when I was young: trust no-one, especially yourself.
The automatic lights flickered on as I reached the next flight of stairs. I just had to drag myself up one more and then I’d reach the place I used to call home.
I couldn’t remember if I’d finished the bottle of whisky I had on my shelf, or if I’d have to break into the Aberlour my boss had given me last Christmas.
Either way, my schedule for the evening was to drink it straight out of the bottle until I was too shitfaced to stumble to bed.
Then I’d beat the crap out of myself the next day when I went into work feeling like I'd been getting hot and heavy with some sandpaper.
As I rose to the last step, my brow creased. The light above my flat was on, and I swear I could see another strip of light coming from under the doorway.
I knew I’d switched them off before I left, and the only other person it could have been was the cleaner, and he was usually meticulous.
Padding to the door, I reached out to find it unlocked. I froze with my fingers wrapped around the handle, possibilities whizzing through my already worn-out mind.
I could hear some kind of banging coming from inside. They could be nicking my TV, or just destroying stuff, like Max’s friends had done to Cat all those years ago. I really wasn’t in the mood for a fight, but maybe a good punch up would shift the dark fucking cloud hanging around me.
As gently as I could, I pushed down the handle, and quietly swung open the door.
The first thing that hit me was the scent of pastry. My gaze found the vase of white flowers on the dining room table before I looked up to find the person I had been dying to see, pottering around with his back to me.
I let out a strangled cry, every single feeling that had gathered in me since I started this fucking mess bursting out of me.
My navy apron was tied around his neck, the sky blue oven gloves he’d given me last year hiding his fingers as he lifted a tray from the oven. Harry twisted, his eyes widening briefly before he softened into a smile, his cheeks pink with the heat of the kitchen.
“Oh! You’re back already,” he said.
I stared at him, too shocked to figure out what the hell was going on.
No shouting, no look of betrayal, no sign that I was still in deep shit.
“Do you want a drink?” he asked. “I made a quiche.” He presented the tray as if the whole situation was totally normal.
“A… quiche…” I echoed.
He looked like a housewife, waiting for me to come home after a long day at work.
Harry put the tray on the far edge of the counter before moving towards the sink.
I dropped my bags the moment I stepped inside, striding across the room, unable to hold back. His openness, his relaxed posture, the way he smiled without any hesitation, it all made me snap as soon as the door clicked shut behind me.
“I thought I could set the table.” He turned to face me. “And then maybe we can—”
I was on him the second his gaze clashed with mine. Pressing his body back against the kitchen counter, I buried my fingers in his hair, taking his lips in a furious kiss that poured in everything I felt, needed, and wanted from him.
I pulled back, searching his face for any kind of resistance.
“... talk…” he finished on a gasp.
“What?” I could barely hear what he was saying. The ringing in my ears was so loud that it took over everything else as all my senses focused on him.
“I thought we could,” he stammered, “… I just…” His words were lost as I bent down to kiss him again. It had been three weeks; whatever he needed to say could wait.
I deepened the kiss, his oven-gloved hands pressing into my waist as I slipped a hand to the back of his neck. Nibbling his bottom lip, he moaned, and I nearly fell to my knees and ripped his trousers off of him right there.
Instead, I fed my hand down his back, running my fingers down his spine to find his ass pressing back into my hand as I cupped him, and he sighed happily.
I knew I was rushing, but I thought it was fine to continue because he kissed me back. Until he pushed at my waist, and I stopped.
“Wait…” he gasped, looking down, avoiding my attention.
I bit back my pain, but a shock of fear took me. I was so ready to be rejected that I instantly assumed the worst.
“Please, Harry,” I begged him, wanting to do as he asked, but it was so hard. "Don't stop me. Not this time.”
He leaned away from me, pressing as far back against the counter as he could. Until his hand rose. Clenched between them were the oven gloves, and he chucked them onto the counter beside us.
I was stock-still, wondering what he wanted next. Clutching at him, I dented my fingers into his asscheek, and his eyelids fluttered.
My breath escaped me as Harry’s hands returned to my waist, tugging at me, bringing me back to his lips. Then it was my turn to moan as he hesitantly explored me with tender kisses.
He ran his tongue across my lips before he lifted himself up on his toes. At my level, he could take what he wanted, and I gave him everything. He could have every piece of me, as long as he kept up those gentle sighs, and the roll of his wide body as I pressed closer into his softness.
I closed my eyes, lost in him. I could vaguely smell the quiche he’d made for me. I was starving, but I didn’t give a flying shit about food when Harry’s lips were on mine. There was only one thing I wanted to eat.
“I missed you,” I groaned as he lowered himself down, pulling away from me, but I wouldn't let him go. I followed him, bending over to stay as close as possible. I wanted him to be sure I was telling the truth. “I knew it would be hard being without you, but I didn’t think it would hurt so fucking much.”
There was a shuddering breath from Harry before he replied in a quiet voice. “Me too… I mean, I missed you too. I thought… I’m just… I’m so—”
“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” I brought my face down, pressing my forehead against his, staring deep into his eyes.
“Every single thing that has happened to us is my fault. It only took me this long to realise how much I love you.” There was the smallest of moans, exactly like the one I had heard on the phone from him.
A smile broke through my desperation.
“I didn’t realise I needed you until you were gone,” he said.
“Oh fuck,” I sighed, pressing down onto his lips again. We were meant to be talking, working out where we stood with each other, but I couldn’t hold back when I’d been waiting for him for so long.
I used the hand on his ass to pull him closer, to deepen the kiss, to show him how much I’d missed him.
“All I could think about when I was away was loving you like this.” I nuzzled him, melting at the way he softened into me. “And I wanted to tell you again how sorry I was that I had ruined us.”
“I haven’t forgiven you.” There was resignation in his voice. Harry pulled back, finally showing me some of his pain.
“Good. I don’t want you to. I want you to spend the rest of my life punishing me for this. Don’t let me forget it, so I remember what a fucking gift you are. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? The flowers, the quiche, even the fucking apron. Are you telling me you want this?”
“This?”
“Yes, this, here. Me and you. I’m not missing out. If this is you saying yes to me, I want all of it. I want you, Harry.”
So many emotions flickered across his face, but the one I needed to see was there, the strongest, undercutting his fear, mistrust, and disappointment.
“What do you say?” I asked.
I held him, right there, wanting to give him everything I had, but knowing there was still so much more of myself I needed to share.
“Dom, I… look, I…” He blew out a heavy breath, his head dipping again, his eyes leaving mine.
And I suddenly realised what I was doing. Because Harry had told me so many times that Molly would talk to him non-stop without considering how he felt, and I was instantly demanding an answer when I should have been grateful he was even there.
“I’m sorry,” I stopped him from replying, feeling like a fucking idiot, “I’ve just got back. I shouldn’t be piling this on you when I’ve walked through the door.”
I dropped my hands, trying not to show how much I was panicking that I had already fucked everything up again.
I didn't even let him fucking speak before I pounced on him.
I needed to give him some space to actually say what he'd come here to say.
That was how we got where we were in the first place.
“Wait,” Harry said as he grabbed my arm. “Dom, I…” I froze, my eyes widened. A tremor ran through him and I quickly took his other hand, wrapping my fingers through his.
“What is it, handsome? Just say it, I'm not going anywhere.”
Harry drew a shuddering breath before meeting my gaze again.
“I just… I can’t be without you.” He grit his jaw, looking back up at me. “And it took you smashing through my whole life for me to see that.” The small smile that followed was too dangerous, and I groaned as I buried my face in his neck.
“I won't expect anything of you,” I murmured against his soft skin. “Take as much time as you need.” Except I still reached around his waist to untie the stupid, sexy apron. And he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, leaning back like he was offering himself to me.
As soon as the apron was over his head, my lips crashed back down onto his. I crushed him against the counter, grinding my cock against him, falling in love with him even more as his hands crept between us and he unbuttoned his shirt.
“So you don't want more time?” I asked.
“I just want you. We can see how much time I need after that.” His voice trembled the same way my heart did as my fingers skimmed past his, and found his cock through his trousers.
Harry let out a cry, shuddering as he thrust into my hand so easily it was clear we were meant for each other.
“Are we doing this here?” He panted, his hips moving, his shirt forgotten as he clung onto me. It was exactly how he’d been last time, and how I’d been dreaming he would every night since I left.
“Well, you fucked my face against my front door.” I grinned. “I don’t think anywhere is off limits now, do you?”
His mouth dropped open, real red blooming on his cheeks as he grew flustered. It was perfect.
I pulled him towards me, the sheer fucking joy of the moment turning me into a romantic.
“I can’t believe how lucky I am to hold you like this.
But, no matter how badly I want to fuck you, handsome, I’m not having the first time I thrust my cock inside you to be while you’re bent over the kitchen sink. ”
I loved the shocked look on his face. He may have known me long enough to see every aspect of my personality, but Harry had no idea how I fucked.
And I was going to show him all the dirty tricks in my book.
Whether it took a night, or a month, by the time I was done, he would be a mess in my arms, telling me over and over again how much he loved me.