Chapter 17 Dominic
Dominic
Now
Sloane turns around slowly, her face stricken with something between panic and guilt. Seeing that expression on her face when I’m practically naked in her bed has me feeling panicked, but understanding washes over me as my eyes settle on what she’s holding in her hands.
A senior shirt from Lakewood High.
It’s faded and threadbare from years of being worn, but I can still make out the emblem.
There are only two places she could have gotten that shirt, and since I know her and Mal aren’t in the habit of exchanging clothes, it has to be Eric’s.
I don’t know what I expect to feel at the sight of his shirt in her hand, but all I do feel is understanding tinged with sadness.
For Eric. For me. For Sloane.
It’s evident to anyone looking at her that she still loves him.
That she still hasn’t quite recovered from losing him and probably never will.
And as much as I want to own every part of her, every moment and memory, I’ve always known that wasn’t realistic, because pursuing anything with her means accepting the time she spent loving someone who wasn’t me.
Which is why I don’t have to think twice about going to her and taking the shirt from her hands.
Her eyes go wide, the golden flecks shimmering with fear and a hint of anger.
“Arms up, angel.”
She lifts her arms, obeying my command without hesitation, and my dick twitches.
Seeing her follow my orders without a contrary word from her pretty mouth turns me on, but now isn’t the time for worrying about my lengthening dick.
Now is the time for comforting my angel and letting her know I don’t give a fuck about what she sleeps in, as long as she sleeps in it next to me.
I slip the soft cotton down her arms and then over her head. It ghosts over the curves of her breasts before settling around the tops of her thighs. Eric was taller and bigger than her, so it’s a loose fit. I rub the hem of the shirt between my fingertips while tears brim in Sloane’s eyes.
I press a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s go to bed.”
She scrambles up onto the mattress without a word.
I turn off the lights and try to slow the pounding in my chest. The last thing I want is to die before I get a chance to hold this woman in my arms. When I slide into bed, Sloane gives me a second to settle before laying her head on my chest. I curve an arm around her waist, pulling her body closer to me until there’s no space between us.
She plants a kiss on my chest, and I don’t need to see her to know she’s looking at me.
“How did you do it?”
“Do what?” I rub her back, loving the small sigh of contentment that falls from her lips.
My heart does a flip in my chest at the sound.
For years, I’ve fallen asleep dreaming of having nights like tonight with her.
Kissing her, holding her, burying my face in her sweet pussy, and tonguing her until she couldn’t see straight. Now it’s my reality.
“Stop hating me.”
Her words make my chest tighten, but they shouldn’t. After all, I’m the person who made sure she believed I hated her for all these years. The asshole who would rather go to war with her than find a way to live with his own fucked-up feelings. Of course she thought I hated her.
Rubbing tiny circles on her back, I search for the right words to say. A way to explain that I never hated her without revealing a truth she’s not ready to hear. I turn on my side, so I can face her.
“I didn’t.” Her body goes stiff. “I never hated you, Sloane.”
“What? But you—”
She tries to sit up, but I tighten my grip, anchoring her to me. I can’t have this conversation with her. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. She won’t believe me about everything that happened on the night we met, or what didn’t happen the next morning.
“I know.” My fingers slip under her shirt, coasting up her side until I find her breast, kneading at the soft flesh until a moan escapes her throat. “But that doesn’t matter now, does it, angel?”
I pinch her nipple and smile when the bite of pain forces her to arch her back.
Sloane’s nails dig into my forearm. Moonlight filters through the blinds, turning her face into a luminescent silhouette.
So damn beautiful it makes my heart hurt.
She lifts her chin, offering her lips to me in sweet supplication.
I swallow her next moan with my mouth, licking into her with a hungry determination that has Sloane tossing her leg over my hip and grinding against my dick.
I can feel the soft heat of her right on my tip.
It would be nothing to move her panties to the side and slide into her welcoming pussy.
She’s already wet. The moisture gathering at her core soaks through her panties as she works herself over me.
Greedy little whimpers fall from her lips when I rock my hips up, angling my thrusts so my dick collides with her swollen clit every time she comes down.
I break the kiss just so I can see her face when the pleasure floods her.
“Oh, Dominic.” Sloane moans into my mouth. “You make me feel so fucking good.”
I have no words for what she’s doing to me, so I just let the satisfied grunt at the back of my throat break free and focus on not coming in my briefs like a fucking teenager.
Beads of precum are already leaking out of my tip, and my skin is stretched tight and flushed with a needy heat.
Why am I pushing the whole waiting thing again?
Right. Because I might fuck this all up if I give Sloane too much too soon. Whether she knows it or not, she needs me to take this slow, because what I didn’t tell her in the bathroom is that the moment I take her, I’m never letting her go. And I don’t think that’s what she needs to hear right now.
“That’s it, baby.” I grab a generous handful of her perfect ass and squeeze, letting the words fall from my lips. “This is exactly what I meant when I told you to use me for your pleasure. Are you going to come again, angel?”
Sloane doesn’t answer. She’s writhing and moaning as she grinds against me, making me wish I was inside of her to feel the constant clenching of her muscles as her orgasm builds. I drop a kiss on her lips.
“Let me hear you.”
A strangled groan escapes her, and my dick twitches in response.
I’ve never been this fucking hard in my life.
I grip her nape and pull her lips down on mine, so I can fuck her mouth with my tongue, timing the strokes to match the thrust of my hips until she’s falling apart around me.
Her back arching and head thrashing against the satin pillowcases that smell just like her as she screams my name.
“Fuck.” I wrap my arms around her, pinning her to my side as I roll onto my back. “I could listen to that sound every day.”
Sloane rests her head over my heart. A hum of acknowledgment is the only thing I hear before her breathing evens out and soft snores fill the room.
I stare up at the ceiling, disbelief mingling with the helpless contentment bubbling in my chest until I can barely stay still.
The only thing holding me in place is the sleeping angel wrapped around my body.
Years of waiting, wanting, and wishing for her, for a moment just like this, couldn’t have prepared me for how this would feel.
Like standing at the gates of heaven and hoping years of being a bastard won’t keep you from being let in.
Like being forgiven for your biggest mistake after a lifetime of paying penance.
Like finally coming home after a journey you didn’t think you were going to make it back from.
I press a light kiss to Sloane’s forehead, and she stirs a bit but doesn’t wake up.
“I could never hate you, angel,” I whisper against her skin. “I’ve always loved you too much for that.”
***
Waking up next to Sloane is the single best thing I’ve ever experienced in my life, or at least I think it might be.
I don’t get the chance to experience it, because when I crack my eyes open the next morning, she’s nowhere to be found.
Only the muted, grayish-blue light of the early morning and the happy chirping of a bird somewhere outside greet me when I sit up and listen for any sign of her in the master suite.
The silence around me would be daunting if I wasn’t certain Sloane wouldn’t flee her own home just to get away from me.
Waking me up in the middle of the night demanding I leave?
Now that was a hell of a lot more likely, but she didn’t do that, which means despite all odds she isn’t losing it over spending the night with me.
When I was on my way over here last night, a trip that took longer than necessary because I had to drop Kristen off and she wanted to fight about why I came back without any drinks demanding we leave, I wondered how smart it was to come here.
Sloane had agreed to have dinner with me and give me an answer to the offer I pulled out of the clear blue sky, but neither of us had discussed me coming over, let alone spending the night.
Making it through her door was a long shot.
Getting the chance to taste her was a dream I was desperate to make a reality, but I didn’t dare hope for it.
And spending the night in her bed—well, that was just an idea I floated out there and prayed she would grab hold of.
Okay, it was more of an order, but Sloane had to know she was well within her rights to show me the door if she wanted to. To my surprise, she didn’t want to.
She wanted everything I did.