Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Skye
I step out of the shower, wrapping a plush towel around my body while steam billows around me like a personal cloud.
The evening replays in my mind on an endless loop—those stolen glances across the dinner table, his dark eyes tracking my every movement when he thought I wasn't looking, the weight of unspoken promises hanging in the air between us like electricity before a storm.
Would he actually come to my room tonight?
The thought sends a shiver cascading down my spine.
I go through my bedtime routine methodically, trying desperately to calm my racing heart that refuses to settle. Moisturizer patted gently into my cheeks, teeth brushed. Every movement feels deliberate, weighted with an anticipation that makes my fingers tremble slightly.
Walking over to my dresser, I pull out an oversized t-shirt and slip it on, the soft, worn cotton falling to mid-thigh against my freshly showered skin.
I crawl into bed with my sketchbook clutched against my chest, tucking my legs beneath the covers.
My pencil moves almost on its own as I work on the sketch of Dom I started days ago, adding depth to the shadows around his eyes, defining the strong, uncompromising line of his jaw, capturing that intensity that seems to radiate from him even when he's perfectly still.
There's something undeniably intimate about recreating him this way, my fingers tracing his features on paper the way I long to trace them in person, memorizing every plane and angle of his face.
Nearly an hour passes in this artistic trance before I reluctantly set the sketchbook on my nightstand, admiring my work one last time.
I switch off the light and slip under the plush comforter, wishing I could somehow roll it up and take it home with me when this summer ends.
It feels like a cloud against my skin, nothing like the thin, threadbare blanket on my bed in my apartment.
I try desperately to stay awake, ears straining for any sound of footsteps in the hallway outside my door, but my eyes grow heavier with each passing minute.
The exhaustion of the day catches up with me—swimming in the crystal-clear water, soaking up the warm California sun, that heart-stopping moment pressed against him in the pantry—and I drift between sleep and wakefulness like a boat without an anchor.
The covers slip off me in my restless state, and I reach for them, tugging them back under my chin.
They slip again moments later. I reach once more, but can't quite grab them through my sleepy haze.
There's a cool breeze against my exposed skin, and I instinctively want to shield myself from it. Then I feel strong hands on my legs, working their way deliberately up my thighs, warm and sure against my cool skin.
"Mmm," I moan because it feels impossibly good, so good that my dream-fogged brain can't distinguish reality from fantasy, floating in that delicious space between consciousness and dreams.
I'm being rolled gently onto my back, my shirt pushed up to expose my stomach.
A deep, masculine groan pulls me the rest of the way out of sleep, and when I finally open my eyes, I'm looking directly into Dom's dark, intense gaze hovering above me.
My breathing grows heavy and uneven as his hand traces patterns on my sensitive skin.
I look down to see his magnificent chest and defined abs on display again, wearing just low-hanging sweatpants like the night in the kitchen, the V-line of his hips disappearing beneath the fabric in a way that makes my mouth go dry.
"I've been thinking," he says, his voice low and rough like gravel, vibrating through the quiet darkness of the room.
"About?" I ask, my throat suddenly parched, heart hammering against my ribs.
"How I want to take your virginity." His eyes don't leave mine for even a second, carefully gauging my reaction to his blunt words.
I remember how he told me earlier that he likes sex a certain way, that he can't be gentle. In this moment, with desire coursing through my veins like liquid fire, I don't care. I just want him, however he wants to give himself to me.
"It's okay," I say, my voice hardly more than a breathless whisper in the darkness between us.
"What's okay?" His hand slides torturously along my inner thigh, so close to where I desperately want him that I have to fight not to arch into his touch.
"If it's rough," I manage to say, breathless from his overwhelming proximity and the heat radiating from his body.
"I changed my mind," he says unexpectedly, and I look at him, confusion and a flash of hurt crossing my face. Have I completely misunderstood everything between us?
"You deserve gentle, Skye." His voice softens, taking on a quality I haven't heard from him before.
I shake my head decisively and get up on my knees to face him properly, our faces now level with each other. "I just want you," I say with newfound courage, placing my trembling hand against the rough stubble on his cheek.
He grabs the hem of my shirt without warning, pulling it over my head in one smooth motion and tossing it carelessly aside, leaving me completely naked and exposed before his hungry gaze.
"Christ," he groans, his eyes darkening even further before he dips his head, taking one sensitive nipple into his hot mouth.
"Holy shit." The sensation is electric, sending sparks shooting through my entire body. I moan uncontrollably and thread my fingers through his thick hair, keeping him exactly where I need him while his large hand snakes around my waist, grabbing a generous handful of my ass.
He gently bites down on my nipple, and I moan even louder, not caring who might hear. Then he pulls back slowly, moving his attention to the neglected one.
"God damn, Skye. I love your nipples," he says with raw appreciation in his voice. "Small, pink, perfect little buds." Then he sucks my other nipple into his mouth with equal enthusiasm.
"Oh fuck," I gasp as he licks, sucks, and gently bites the sensitive peak. My entire body feels overwhelmed with new sensations cascading through me like dominoes, and when he finally pulls back to look at me, I'm panting heavily and embarrassingly wet.
"I need you to lay back, baby," he instructs, his voice commanding yet tender.
Oh god, he just called me baby for the second time tonight.
I love the sound of that endearment coming from his usually controlled mouth.
Before I lay down as instructed, I impulsively pull him closer and press my lips to his neck.
I trail soft, wet kisses up the column of his throat until I reach his ear and boldly suck his earlobe into my mouth.
He groans deeply, the vibration rumbling through his chest against mine, and I keep going while letting my curious hand travel south, feeling the hard planes of his chest, then the ridged abs that I desperately want to trace with my tongue, and then I finally reach the elastic waistband of his sweatpants.
I hesitate for just a moment, gathering my courage, before dipping my hand inside and wrapping my fingers around his rock-hard cock. God, the skin is incredibly silky smooth, such a striking contrast to how rigid and unyielding he feels beneath my exploring touch.
"You're so big," I whisper in genuine awe, my eyes widening.
"Fuck, Skye," he groans, his head falling back slightly.
"What if you don't fit?" I ask with a mixture of nervousness and excitement as I continue stroking him, not completely unfamiliar with this particular act. I've done and received oral before with previous boyfriends, just never ventured much beyond that intimate threshold.
"I'll fit," he says, his voice noticeably strained as he fights for control. "It's going to hurt for a while, though," he adds with unexpected honesty.
"I want you," I whisper with complete certainty as I reach lower to gently massage his balls, reveling in his sharp intake of breath.
"Fuck," he groans again, his composure fracturing visibly, and I love the way his handsome face transforms when I please him this way, the way his iron control slips just a little, knowing that I'm the cause of that momentary surrender.
"Lay down Skye," he says. This time I do exactly what I'm told without hesitation.
His eyes roam over my naked body with such intense appreciation that I can feel the heat of his gaze like a physical touch, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
It's both terrifying and thrilling to be so completely exposed to him, my body bare beneath the harsh bedroom light that hides nothing.
"Fuck, baby, you're dripping down your thighs," he says, his voice thick with desire as he runs his fingers through the slick wetness and rubs it into my skin. The gentle circular motion of his fingertips against my sensitive flesh makes me shiver uncontrollably.
"I told you I want you," I remind him, my voice surprisingly steady despite my racing heart hammering against my ribs.
He chuckles, a deep, sensual sound that vibrates through the quiet room and settles somewhere deep in my belly.
"Yeah, you did," he says, and then he grabs my hips, pulling me to the edge of the bed in one swift, powerful movement that steals my breath.
My legs dangle off the mattress as he positions himself between them.
"I need to see this piercing," he says, spreading my thighs wider with his large hands, his eyes darkening with unmistakable hunger.
I instinctively try to hide, closing my legs with a sudden wave of shyness washing over me. No one has ever looked at me this closely before, this intensely. The vulnerability is overwhelming, like standing naked in a spotlight with nowhere to hide.