Chapter 29 Autumn
AUTUMN
The day had drained every ounce of energy from me, but none of it mattered when I looked at him.
Dom had stood in front of me. It showed in his face and in every word that losing me wasn’t something he could come back from. It wasn’t something I could take lightly. What he gave me today wasn’t just protection. It was devotion. And I’d carry that feeling in my bones forever.
His place still echoed a little when we stepped inside, like it hadn’t decided whether it was a house or a home yet. But it had Dom written all over it, with clean lines, dark wood, a couch big enough to nap on, and a kitchen that probably saw more takeout than home-cooked meals.
And the rugs. God, the rugs.
There were at least four, and all of them looked expensive in that I-care-about-textures way.
Thick and soft, the kind that begged you to kick your boots off.
It was almost funny. Dom, the no-nonsense, sharp-jawed man who could throw a punch with one eye closed, apparently had a thing for fluffy rugs.
They took up more square footage than most of the furniture.
He didn’t say much as he led me down the short hallway.
The bedroom was just as spare as the rest of the house. There was a low platform bed with dark sheets and yet another plush rug underfoot. Dom clearly had a personal vendetta against cold floors.
“You and these rugs,” I commented, curling my toes into the plush pile. “Seriously, Dom. You decorating for luxury ski lodge vibes?”
He gave a quiet laugh. “I just like things soft underfoot. That’s all.”
Then he crossed to the closet and pulled the sliding door aside. “I cleared a few shelves and made some hanging space. Figured you might want somewhere to put your stuff.”
I didn’t answer right away. My throat did that annoying, full thing again.
It wasn’t just a closet. It was space for me, thought of in advance.
Then he tapped the wall beside it. “Thinking of knocking this down and making it a walk-in. You know…for all your shoes.”
I laughed. “All three of them?”
He arched a brow. “Three?”
“Sneakers, boots, and one pair of heels that are more decoration than footwear.”
“Let me guess. The red ones you wore to dinner?”
“One of my rare attempts at being a lady.”
“Worked on me,” he said, then shrugged. “I mean, I’m just saying. If you suddenly wanted to stockpile heels, I wouldn’t stand in your way.”
“What, you planning to take me dancing every night?”
“Damn,” he said, grinning. “Why haven’t I thought of that?”
I stared at him. All six-foot-something of casually sexy, furniture-minimalist, dance-plotting man.
I’d take him to every dinner I could find. Breakfast too. Hell, I’d invent meals just to show him off.
“You can use the ensuite. I’ll take the guest shower,” Dom offered.
“Oh, you go first. I’ll, um, invade your space and put my things out first.”
“Then invade away.” He swept an arm out in exaggerated welcome as he went into the bathroom.
I had a small suitcase filled with my own things this time.
Actual clothes. Sure, the souvenir T-shirts were still a staple, but now I had more than just that one pair of hiking pants I kept pretending were versatile.
I rolled out my tops, hung up what could be hung, and folded my jeans onto the shelf Dom had cleared.
But that wasn’t the only reason I had asked Dom to take a shower first.
I paused, one hand still resting on a folded tee.
The decision had settled into me on the way back to Buffaloberry Hill. No fireworks. No dramatic epiphany.
I’d been close to him before. Close enough to feel his restraint, and to know he would never push or take more than I offered.
That’s what made me want to give him everything.
When I’d said I’d come prepared, I meant it.
And like any girl balancing on the edge of inexperience and curiosity, I’d done the responsible thing.
I opened a hundred tabs about how to take a man with, well, generous proportions.
Some tips were helpful, while some sounded like I’d need holy water and a chiropractor.
But Dom was the kind of man who would make it good. He would kiss your thigh and ask if you were okay, even when you were already moaning yes. I trusted he wouldn’t do anything that’d leave me bedridden and bow-legged for days.
Still, my stomach fluttered. I was about to dive with no net.
I kept unpacking, my fingers brushing over the black lace lingerie set he’d seen me in.
I’d bought it on impulse after an episode of Emily in Paris.
Or maybe it was a moment of hope. It was not lace, since that was too itchy.
And not satin either. Too slippery. It was something in between.
It had worked on him once, and I was counting on it again tonight.
I stared at it for a beat before staring at my reflection in the mirror.
“Do it now,” I whispered. “Don’t do it.” I tossed a sock on the bed. “Do it now.” Another sock.
Screw it.
I took a quick shower in the guest bathroom, my heart pounding so hard that it could’ve rattled the pipes. After drying off, I slipped into the lingerie and brushed my hair until it gave the illusion of effortless, like I hadn’t just spent ten minutes trying way too hard for this.
Then I stepped back into Dom’s room and sank onto the plush rug.
I didn’t lie down right away. I tested the spot first. Then I stretched out face down, my cheek pressed against softness, my legs curled just enough to hint at the show I was putting on. My body was humming. A little scared. A little high. And a lot ready.
The shower water cut off.
I smiled to myself.
This was it.
Let the man come out and find me.