9. Chapter 9 #3
“I don’t give a damn what it looked like. I’m telling you what happened.”
“And I should believe you?” I raise both brows.
“Not me.” Another step. “This house has cameras. You can go through the footage.”
My throat closes and tears threaten to spill.
“You expect me to watch a video of you with another woman—”
“I expect,” he says, stepping directly into my space, “that you talk to me before you disappear all day. Before you ignore every call. Before you let some bastard breathe on your neck.”
“What was she here for then?” I snap.
“Business.” That’s all he gives me.
As if I’d believe business is done between a woman dressed in a skintight Tom Ford dress and a man wearing nothing but gym shorts and a tee.
“What business?”
His lips part, then press together again. He breaks eye contact, looking past me as he exhales sharply.
“Confidential,” he says, glancing back with a slight tilt of his head.
“I’m not stupid,” I rage. “I know exactly what you did!”
“Do you now?” he drawls. “Please, do tell. Because I’m dying to hear what kind of fan fiction you’ve come up with.”
“Don’t mock me.” I jab his chest again.
“You’re jealous,” he murmurs.
My face burns. It’s jealousy-soaked, alcohol-fueled anger.
“Why would I be jealous?” I yell, my voice cracking. “Because you can’t keep it in your pants? Because I’m supposed to smile for the cameras while you do whatever the hell you want? I’m angry because you’re making me look like an idiot!”
“So you’re not jealous?”
“Over you?” I gesture to him, pretending to look disgusted. “I couldn’t care less.”
“Mm.” He hums. “So if I did fuck her, you wouldn’t mind hearing about what I did with her?”
I don’t wait for him to finish the sentence. I swing—pure, emotional, humiliated instinct. He catches my wrist midair, like he was expecting it. His hand clamps around my wrist and the room goes silent.
“Admit you’re jealous,” he murmurs, that little flicker of amusement making my rage spike into the stratosphere.
“I’m not!” I grunt in frustration, swinging my free hand in a sloppy, emotional arc meant more to push than to hit.
He grabs that wrist too, pinning both my hands against his chest, against the hard heat of him.
“You’re a liar,” he growls, finally letting the heat bleed into his voice .
His stupidly handsome face is inches away from mine. I’m shaking, furious, and wanting him so badly I could scream.
“And you’re an ass—”
He grabs my jaw, cutting me off. His fingers slide up the side of my face, spreading heat through my skin, and press into the hinges of my jaw, forcing my lips open just a fraction. My mouth parts on instinct. A shocked, involuntary gasp escapes me.
That’s the only warning I get before he crashes his mouth into mine in a violent, consuming collision that rips my lungs open and fills them with fire.
His body slams into mine, my wrists trapped against his chest, his mouth devouring.
There’s nothing soft about Dominic’s kiss. It’s furious and hungry. It tastes like heat and anger, and the entire night exploding at once.
A low growl slips from his throat and into my mouth as his lips move against mine.
His hand on my jaw slides, roughly tilting my face up, angling my mouth against his.
I make a broken, breathless sound I’ve never made before .
Another deep groan rumbles out of him. It vibrates against my lips, down my throat, and deep into my stomach.
My hands, still pinned, twitch uselessly against his chest, holding me still, forcing me to take it. So I do the only thing I can. I bite him, pulling his bottom lip between my teeth hard.
A low, cocky laugh slips out of him before his hips shift forward just enough to make my whole body go warm and unsteady. It feels like my first breath and my last all at once.
He kisses me harder and messier. I feel every ounce of his anger and need.
He parts my legs with his knee, pressing his thigh firmly between them.
My head spins; a whimper slips past my lips as he deepens the kiss, pulling me closer. He uses the opportunity to slide his tongue inside, hungrily gliding over mine. His hands drop from my wrists to my waist, dragging me up on my toes so he can kiss me deeper.
We’re not kissing.
We’re fighting with our mouths .
My hands automatically travel down his obliques, feeling the hard ridges of muscle.
His mouth tears away from mine, and he looks down at me with wild eyes. I stumble back, my heart slamming so hard it hurts. Dom takes a step back, chest rising and falling too fast. His eyes are dark and wild when he looks at me.
He runs a hand through his hair, and his gaze drags down my body. Every inch he looks at feels like it burns.
“Get away from me,” he rasps, voice deeper than I’ve ever heard it. “Unless you want to see that dress in shreds on the fucking floor.”
My thighs clench. I’ve never seen him like this.
Never thought I’d see him panting and barely holding himself back.
My body is shaking on weak legs, and my brain is barely functioning. I take a shaky step toward him. He immediately takes one back.
“Back,” he warns.
I blink at him, confused and aching. “Why? You’re the one who—”
“You’re drunk. ”
“You’re trying to deny it again,” I say quietly. “What you want.”
His eyes flick up to mine, filled with fire. He takes one step toward me now, closing the distance he refused seconds ago.
“When I touch you again,” his voice rough, “I want you sober. Feeling every single fucking thing I do to you.”
My knees nearly give out.
“Go upstairs,” he says, breath still uneven. “Go to bed.”
“I don’t want to,” I whisper.
“And I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and think it was a mistake.”
He looks at me long and hard.
“I didn’t touch that woman, Jessica.” he says quietly, shaking his head.
Then he turns away sharply, running both hands through his hair again.
“Go,” he repeats, voice rough.
I finally tear myself away, stumbling toward the stairs. As I climb, I hear him curse under his breath .
My mouth curves. A tiny, secret smile breaks across my lips.
He finally cracked.
He can pretend tomorrow. He can deny it with his words. But he can’t deny what he did with his hands and mouth.
Dominic Moreal wants me. And he’s running out of ways to hide it.