Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
“Lock the door,” I commanded, my voice already husky as a wave of heat coursed through me.
Dominic’s response was a rumbling sound from deep in his chest as he fumbled with the lock. The silver ring around his pupils had all but disappeared, consumed by desire. “Christ, Leo—you smell so fucking good.”
The moment he clicked the lock into place, I pressed against him, my fingers making quick work of his tie while my mouth found the pulse point below his jaw. I dragged my tongue over his scent gland, savoring the taste that was uniquely his—earthy and sharp, like forest after a thunderstorm.
“Touch me, Dom,” I breathed against his skin, feeling a delicious emptiness building inside me, my body preparing itself for what was to come.
Something primitive flashed in his eyes. With a fluid movement that stole my breath, he spun me around, pinning me against the door. The hard ridge of his arousal pressed against me through our clothes as I arched back instinctively.
“I can smell how ready you are for me,” he murmured, voice dropping to that resonant alpha register that vibrated through my bones. “Already slick and ready for me.”
“Only for you,” I confessed, the truth spilling out unbidden as another pulse of warmth spread through my lower body, slick gathering between my thighs.
A string of appreciative curses fell from his lips as his hands curved possessively around my hips. “Time to get you upstairs.”
I moved to turn, but Dominic had other ideas.
In a display of strength that made desire pool low in my belly, he lifted me effortlessly, cradling me against his chest before adjusting his grip.
My hardness strained uncomfortably against the fabric of my pants, the friction both maddening and delicious.
“I can walk,” I said with no real protest in my tone, secretly thrilled by his show of dominance.
“Mine,” was his only response as he carried me through the darkened shop, past the rows of men’s loafers and ladies’ pumps, past the workbench where I’d spent countless hours, never imagining I’d be carried through my own shop like prey claimed by a predator.
He navigated the narrow staircase with surprising grace, one hand steadying himself against the wall, the other securing me against his chest. Each step sent a jolt through my oversensitive body. The wooden stairs creaked beneath our combined weight—a familiar sound now made erotic by context.
At the landing, he paused only long enough to push open my apartment door before carrying me straight to the bedroom.
The silvery glow of moonlight illuminated the simple space—my unmade bed, the worn dresser, the single chair where I’d draped yesterday’s clothes—all witnesses to what was about to unfold.
With deliberate care that belied his obvious urgency, he laid me on the mattress, then straightened to his full height. The moonlight carved shadows across the planes of his face as he stared down at me.
“You’ve haunted my dreams the past two months,” he said, voice pitched low with raw desire.
The intensity of his gaze made my skin prickle with awareness.
I kicked my shoes off and reached for the topmost button on my trousers, suddenly desperate to be free of the clothing that felt abrasive against my fever-sensitive skin.
“I want to feel you,” I said, not hiding the naked want in my voice. “All of you.”
The scent of his arousal thickened as he watched me struggle with the fastening. “Let me,” he said, gently swatting my hands away to undo the buttons himself.
I gasped as a button went flying. “Penny’s gonna kill me! He likes those because of the Cuban waistband.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll find it later so he can sew it back on.” He grasped the fabric at my hips and tugged, pulling my trousers off in one fluid motion.
“But right now, I’m going to give you everything you need,” he promised as he dropped my pants on the floor.
My body responded to his words with a throb of anticipation, internal muscles contracting around emptiness that only he could fill. The promise of his knot—the thought of being tied together as he claimed me—made fresh slick pool beneath me.
His eyes were dark with barely restrained hunger as reached for my tie. “Too many layers,” he growled, loosening the knot with surprising dexterity given his state.
When his fingers moved to the mother-of-pearl buttons of my brocade vest, the memory of the trouser button penetrated the haze of my heat. I caught his wrists.
Penny possessed quite a collection of antique fasteners. He’d collected them the years—so many that I’d joked he was his own notions shop. He could replace a lost trouser button. Vintage iridescent shell fasteners bearing a carved “S-H”?
Those would be decidedly more difficult to replace.
“Careful with that,” I managed, my voice strained. “It was my great-grandfather’s.”
Something shifted in Dominic’s expression—a softening around his eyes even as his pupils remained blown wide with rut. He glanced down at the antique fabric with its worn pearl buttons, then back to my face.
“Show me,” he said, his voice gentler despite the obvious strain of his restraint.
The tenderness in the request made my chest tighten. Even in the grip of his rut—when alphas were notorious for their single-minded aggression—he was still Dominic. Still the man who had helped expose Holloway’s corruption.
With trembling fingers, I loosened the tie completely and set it aside.
Then I carefully unbuttoned the vest, slipping it from my shoulders before folding it with practiced movements and placing it on the nightstand.
The shirt followed, each button receiving the same attention despite the urgency thrumming through my veins.
His gaze tracked every motion, his respect for something precious to me evident despite the pheromones thick in the air between us. When I stood before him in just my boxers, his fingers twitched at his sides.
“Allow me?” he asked, his fingers brushing my waistband but waiting for permission.
I nodded, oddly moved by his restraint. He tugged my boxers down and helped me step out of them, his touch reverent despite the obvious strain of his control. When I finally stood naked before him, his gaze traveled over me with appreciative heat. “Beautiful,” he murmured.
Then, to my surprise, he attacked his own clothing with none of the care he’d shown mine. The expensive Tom Ford suit jacket was yanked open, buttons flying across the room to bounce against the floorboards.
A startled laugh escaped me. “Your suit!”
“Just clothes,” he growled, literally tearing his shirt open in his haste to be skin-to-skin with me. “You’re what matters.”
I couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up. “That was Tom Ford!”
“Fuck Tom Ford,” he insisted, stepping out of his pants and kicking them aside. His naked body gleamed in the moonlight, all hard muscle and alpha power. He paused, drinking in my amusement with a quirked brow. “Something funny about my priorities, little cobbler?”
“No,” I breathed, laughter giving way to desire as he finally stood bare before me. “They’re perfect. You’re perfect.”
In response, he lowered his head to press his lips to the hollow of my throat, then trailed kisses down my chest. Each touch of his mouth sent sparks across my skin, heightened by the heat hormones coursing through my system.
His hands slid down my sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake as he dropped to his knees before me.
The sight of him—this powerful alpha on his knees, looking up at me with naked hunger—sent another rush of slick through my core.
He pressed his face to my hip, inhaling deeply at the scent gland there before trailing his tongue along the sensitive crease where thigh met torso.
My hands found his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands as my head fell back. “Dom,” I gasped as his breath ghosted over my aching hardness.
“Going to take care of you,” he promised, gripping my thighs. “Going to make you feel so good.”
His mouth closed around me, hot and perfect. A cry escaped me as pleasure shot through my body, my knees threatening to buckle. His hands steadied me, strong and sure, as he worked me with devastating skill.
Through half-lidded eyes, I watched him, struck by the beauty of his submission even as he controlled the pace. This was no mindless rut—this was Dominic, choosing to worship me even as his instincts urged him to claim.
Too soon, I felt myself approaching the edge. “Wait,” I managed, tugging gently at his hair. “Together. I want us together.”
He pulled back, pressing one last kiss to my hip before rising to his full height. “Bed?” he asked, the single word carrying all his intent.
I nodded, moving backward until my legs hit the mattress.
I sank down onto the sheets, then crawled backward, making room for his larger frame.
He followed, his motions reminiscent of a hunter pursuing his quarry—yet his eyes held more than just hunger.
There was tenderness there, and something deeper that made my chest ache.
My hands gripped his thighs as he positioned himself above me, feeling the corded muscle beneath hot skin. Slick pooled beneath me on the sheets as my body prepared itself for mating. The musky scent of alpha arousal filled the room, mixing with the sweet, ripe scent of my heat.
Then, his weight was on me, pressing me into the mattress as he buried his nose against my neck, scenting me. I wiggled beneath him, enjoying the attention but wanting—craving—more. My omega instincts urged me to present, to offer myself to my alpha.
As if sensing my need, Dominic rolled to his side, helping me turn onto my stomach. I pushed up onto my hands and knees, arching my back in an instinctual display that drew a growl of approval from him. His palm smoothed down my spine, the touch both soothing and incendiary.
“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “You’re perfect, Leo.”