Chapter 13 #2
It was almost unbearable. Paisley's heart hammered nonstop, and she could think of nothing but the other man. It was the strangest thing. She'd never been so preoccupied with a man like this. There were plenty of handsome men in English Society, of course, but this was something else.
"Did he hurt ye?" Dominic broke the silence first, making her jump.
"Hm?"
"That man, Tam. Did he hurt ye?"
Paisley rested her broom against the counter, then leaned against it herself. Her back was aching. She pulled back her sleeve to inspect the livid marks on her wrist. Already, the soft underside of her arm bore smudgy purple bruises shaped like fingers. She winced.
"I'm fine. A few bruises, but nothing more. Is that man violent towards his father?"
Dominic was right in front of her then, close enough for her to smell spilled ale and crushed grass coming off his clothes, close enough to take her wrist in his, inspecting the marks.
"Aye, but nae for much longer," Dominic said thoughtfully. "Something needs to be done about Tam. These marks look painful. Shall I summon Emma to make ye up a salve?"
Paisley shook her head. "No, thank you. She's such a skilled healer, and I should hate to take her away from somebody who really needs her services. They're just bruises, and they'll heal on her own."
She should really draw her hand back from Dominic's grip.
Although, grip wasn't the right word. He was holding her hand, palm up, in his, but his hold on her was slack and gentle.
She could move away at any time. The fingers of his other hand were wavering near the marks on her wrist, as if they didn't quite dare touch.
"Ye are always thinkin' of others, arenae ye?" Dominic murmured, almost to himself. "I daenae think I've ever met anyone so kind."
Color rushed to her face, and she shook her head. "I'm not special."
"I think we disagree on that one."
She glanced up sharply, meeting Dominic's iron-gray eyes squarely. He was watching her with a sort of hunger, a strangely intent expression that she'd never seen before.
No, that wasn't true. She had seen it before, right before he kissed her that day in his office. Paisley's lips tingled at the memory, and the ache in her chest intensified. She felt as though she couldn't breathe, as if she was waiting for something to happen, but didn't quite know what.
Dominic's fingertips grazed the marks on the wrist, a feather-light turn that seemed to burn.
"Dae ye know why I threw that man out of me pub?" Dominic murmured.
"Because he was violent towards his father?" Paisley hazarded.
Dominic chuckled. "Nay, that's why I banned him from returning. Nay, I threw him out because he touched ye. I daenae want anybody else touching ye, Paisley. Naybody. Ye are mine."
Paisley could have sworn that somebody had just sucked the air out of her lungs in one gulp.
"Oh," she managed lamely. "Oh."
It was hard to tell which one of them moved first. They were already almost nose-to-nose, so close together that Paisley could feel the heat rolling off Dominic's body.
Then they were kissing, his lips pressed against hers, stubble grazing her skin in a familiar yet unfamiliar way.
Paisley threw her arms around his neck, thrilled that she didn't seem to be frozen in place this time. There was nothing soft or hesitant about the kiss this time. Dominic seemed to be trying to devour her, and Paisley felt equally thrilled to be devoured.
He wrapped his hands around her waist, hauling her up onto the counter with ease. With one careless swipe of his arm, Dominic knocked away a group of glasses, which shattered on the floor behind the counter.
"The glasses!" Paisley cried, despite herself.
"Glasses are easy enough to replace." Dominic said breathlessly.
With her sitting up on the bar, the angle was much better.
Paisley's skirt had ended up rucked up around her knees, which should have been horrifyingly shocking, but somehow didn't bother her in the slightest. Dominic pressed up against her, kissing her everywhere he could reach, his stubble sending sparks of awareness and pleasure running down her body when he kissed her neck.
Paisley flinched involuntarily when she felt Dominic's warm, rough hand on her bare knee, his hand underneath her skirt.
"Are ye all right, lass?" Dominic murmured, his voice warm in her ear. "Dae ye want me to stop?"
"No," Paisley said at once, not entirely sure whether she was able to breathe or not. "Please don't."
Dominic's hand climbed higher up her thigh, where nobody had touched Paisley except possibly a maid by accident while she was dressing.
When his fingers brushed the join between her legs, where nobody had ever touched her, Paisley gave a gasp of shock.
It felt good, in a way she could never have anticipated.
She felt, rather than heard, Dominic chuckle, the sound deep and rumbling against her neck. His hand underneath her skirt moved smoothly and rhythmically, a practiced movement that was making Paisley's legs tremble and her heart beat until it seemed likely to smash through her ribcage.
She found her climax with an undignified squeak, fingers digging into Dominic's shoulders. He nuzzled against her neck, and she felt him smile.
"I thought ye might like that." he murmured.