Chapter 20
20
DOMINIC
My grip on the steering wheel is relaxed as I navigate the streets of Avalon, my mind drifting to last night at the manor. I reminisce about how Shiloh's shoulders gradually relaxed as the evening wore on, her laughter becoming less guarded the longer we spent hanging ridiculous bundles of dried herbs and fake cobwebs.
A smirk tugs at my lips as I consider how much faster she recovered from her shame spiral compared to the first time I sank my cock into her. I can feel her coming round to the idea that we’re not about to be institutionalized for daring to touch each other. Patience is a virtue, after all.
Granted, I was itching to touch her after half a week of no contact, eager to taste her lips again. But I’m giving her space. I did nothing other than hold her hand. Once . She has to see that whatever is growing between us doesn’t disappear whenever we keep our clothes on.
It’s not like I’ve been staying away as I wait for her to beg me again, either. I still sneak into her house every night, and still watch her sleep for an hour or so before slipping away to study her journals back in my own room. I’ve combed those pages so thoroughly anyone would think I was conducting a psychological study on my little Shy Girl.
Knowledge is power. And knowing just how lonely she’s been this past decade–how desperate she is just for someone to stand by her and fucking stay there–it’s all the information I need to be exactly what she’s been yearning for.
Hence, I chose to message her this morning to ask if she wanted to go shopping for costumes. Dressing up for some garish Halloween event is not something I thought I would ever do while I’m still breathing, but I’m certain it’s what Shiloh’s perfect man would do.
And that’s exactly who I intend to be for her. I need her to need me.
Pulling up to her house, I take a deep breath before exiting the car. Each step toward her door is a little heavy as I grudgingly realize I actually have to follow through on my promises. Fuck knows what anyone back in New York would say if they heard exactly how Dominic Blackwood is about to spend his Saturday. I rap my knuckles against the chipped paint, pulse quickening despite my best efforts to remain unbothered.
The door swings open barely a minute later, revealing my Shiloh in all her flustered glory. Her hair is chaotic as always, as if she'd been running her fingers through it waiting for me to show up. A light blush already colors her cheeks when she looks up at me.
“Hey,” she breathes, eyes darting away again with adorable hesitation.
“Hey yourself,” I return, letting my gaze sweep over her simple jeans and T-shirt. I’ll never understand how this woman looks fucking edible in anything. “Ready to go?”
She nods silently, grabbing her coat and purse before locking up. As we walk to the car, I resist the urge to reach out and take her hand. We’re not alone in an abandoned house right now, so no doubt beady eyes are on us from all directions.
“So… costume shopping,” I say casually as I pull away from the curb. “Any ideas what you're looking for?”
Shiloh shrugs, fiddling nervously with the strap of her bag. “Not really. Something...appropriate, I guess. Um…on theme.”
I can't help but snort at her less-than-enthusiastic response. “Appropriate? Come on, Shy Girl, I thought this was your favorite day of the year. Live a little.”
She shoots me a glare, but I catch the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Easy for you to say. You're not the one who’s going to be judged when everyone picks apart my theme ideas. If anyone is disappointed, Melanie will throw me straight under the bus.”
“True,” I concede with a smirk. “But that just means you have to blow them all away with a killer look. Go all out and maybe they’ll give you Melanie’s job next year.”
Shiloh shakes her head with a muted laugh, and we fall into an easy banter as I drive to the other side of town. I find myself stealing glances at her profile every so often, admiring the way the sunlight catches in her golden hair when she turns to look out the window.
Maple Street soon comes into view, a quaint little strip of boutiques and cafes not far from the High School. I park swiftly and round the car to open Shiloh's door, offering my hand to help her out. She hesitates for a split second before taking it, her palm warm against mine.
We head down the sidewalk in easy camaraderie, close enough that our arms occasionally brush. To anyone else, we probably look like two siblings innocently catching up after a long time spent in different States. Shiloh points out various shops, her eyes lighting up as she shares anecdotes about each one.
“And that's where I got my first job in junior year,” she says, pointing to a small bookstore. “I’m sure I spent more time reading than actually working. It was awesome.”
I chuckle. “Why am I not surprised?”
She elbows me playfully. “Hey man, I'll have you know I was an excellent employee.”
“Oh, I'm sure,” I tease. “A regular employee of the month, I bet. What were there, like two other teenage competitors?” Her laughter rings out as she shoves me again, leaving my skin burning beneath my clothes where I long for her to never stop touching me.
We eventually come to a stop in front of an eclectic boutique, its window display showcasing an array of elaborate costumes that have definitely seen better days. Shiloh's eyes almost pop out of her face with excitement.
“This is the place,” she says, already reaching for the door handle.
A little bell chimes as we enter, and I'm immediately assaulted by the scent of mothballs and stale perfume. Racks upon racks of garish costumes line the walls and create a maze throughout the store.
Shiloh dives in without another word, rifling through the options with childlike glee. It’s so cute I struggle to maintain an air of indifference, my instincts screaming at me to just grab her and hold her close. I trail behind her at a safe distance instead, occasionally plucking ridiculous pieces from the racks.
“What about this one?” I ask, holding up a gaudy, sequined monstrosity that might have once been a flamingo costume.
She turns, a shameless cackle bubbling up as soon as she sees it. “Oh hell, no. Hide that thing before someone goes blind.”
I grin, shoving it back onto the rack between two equally grotesque options. “Your loss. I think the hideous pink would've suited you perfectly.”
Shiloh rolls her eyes, but her easy smile doesn't fade. She continues her hunt undeterred, occasionally holding up other ludicrous eyesores for my opinion. With each comical exchange, I feel the walls she’s always trying to maintain between us crumbling brick by brick.
After a while sifting through the circus of bright fabric, Shiloh's arms are laden with potential costumes. I eye the pile skeptically.
“You’re gonna need to try those on before you can make an informed decision.”
She bites her lip in that addictive way she does when she’s unsure of herself. “Um, yeah, is that okay? You can go grab a coffee or something, I know you're probably bored–”
“Nonsense,” I cut her off. “This was my idea, wasn’t it? Go on, I'll be your captive audience.”
Relief washes over her soft features as she grins up at me before disappearing into the nearest changing room. I settle into a chair, preparing myself for what's sure to be an interesting show.
The first few terrible costumes are met with good-natured laughter and teasing critiques. Shiloh twirls in each one, her initial coyness melting away as she gets into the spirit of things. I’m nothing short of stunned to find I’m actually enjoying myself.
“Alright, this one could actually be a contender!” she calls out, eventually stepping from behind the curtain in a sleek, black catsuit.
My eyes rake hungrily over her form, appreciating how the fabric clings to her every curve. “Not bad,” I manage, my mouth suddenly dry. “But the black cat thing has been done to death. Chuck it in the ‘maybe’ pile.”
She nods, a knowing look crossing her face before she ducks back into the changing room. I shift in my seat a little, trying to ignore the semi that leapt up at the sight of her in lycra.
“Okay,” Shiloh's voice wavers slightly a few minutes later. “I'm not sure about this one, but it’s uh...on theme, I guess.”
The curtain parts again, and suddenly I can't breathe.
She steps out in a black corseted gown, the silk hugging her waist before tumbling to the floor in a ripple of liquid night. But it's the back–or lack thereof–that has me transfixed. The bust is laced with ribbons that crisscross her spine, leaving a tantalizing expanse of soft, pale skin exposed.
I stand abruptly, unable to resist the urge to get a closer look. Shiloh shifts under my intense gaze, a deep blush blooming across her cheeks and down her neck.
“Well?” she asks nervously. “What do you think? Is it too much?”
I struggle to form any coherent words, my throat tight with a primal hunger I can barely contain. The woman that stands before me is a seductive vision, such a far cry from her usual knitted sweaters and oversized shirts that I'm struck dumb by the sight.
“Uh, Dom?” she prompts, her voice hushed and uncertain. “It’s not very me, is it?”
I clear my throat, wrestling my brain to function. “It's...perfect,” I finally manage, the compliment coming out rougher than I intended. “That’s the one. We're getting it.”
Shiloh glances back at the mirror behind her, brow furrowed. “But...it's maybe a little too much for me…”
"Nope," I say, perhaps a little too sharply. I soften my tone, reaching for her chin until I can pull her face back to look at me. “It's perfect, Shy. You look incredible. I’m not letting you choose anything else.”
She presses her lips together, that familiar war going on behind her eyes. She’s fighting the natural instinct to fight me, to try to reclaim some semblance of autonomy. But I know the look too well, and know she loves it when I put my foot down. Finally, Shiloh nods, a sheepish smile smoothing away the lingering doubt. “Alright, fine. You win.”
I usher her back into the changing room with a smug grin of my own, needing a moment to remind myself that we’re in public and I can’t just fuck her over the nearest surface. When she emerges in her regular clothes, gown in hand, I'm only a fraction more composed.
I can’t be sure how long that will last.
At the register, I hand over my credit card without hesitation, ignoring Shiloh's weak protests about the extortionate price. Some things are worth every damn penny.
When we step back out onto the street, the crisp autumn air is a welcome respite from the stuffiness inside–and from the hot blood pumping through my body and straight to my crotch. Shiloh turns to me, clutching the garment bag to her chest like a precious relic.
“Dom, I...I don't know what to say,” she mumbles, her eyes shining with naked gratitude. “Thank you so much for this. For today. For everything. I don’t get it, I don’t really understand why you’re doing all this, why you’re even still in town. But…just, thank you.”
The raw confession breaks the last thread of my self-control. I step closer, cupping her warm face in both my hands.
“I’m here because I want to be here. No evil games, Shy, I swear.” I stroke my thumbs over her cheekbones, praying she sees the sincerity in my eyes.
Before she can respond, I close the last of the torturous distance between us, capturing her lips with mine. For a heartbeat, Shiloh freezes, and I fear she’s about to shove me away all over again. But then she melts against me, her free hand winding around my neck as she returns the kiss with equal fervor.
The world falls away, narrowing to just this moment, just us . The taste of her, the soft sounds she makes as I sweep my tongue over hers, and the way her body molds itself to mine–I can’t get enough. My hands slide back into her hair, my fingers scraping against her scalp as I grasp her like I’m terrified she might suddenly evaporate.
But then a loud gasp behind me shatters the moment.
We spring apart, both panting heavily. I turn towards the sound, ready to snap at whatever nosy bystander needs to mind their own fucking business.
But the words die in my throat.
Standing just a few feet away are my mother and Charlie, identically shocked expressions splattered across their faces. Charlie looks like he's been kicked in the balls, his wide eyes darting between Shiloh and me with growing hurt and betrayal. But it's my mother's face that truly chills me–her shock quickly morphing into venomous fury.
“ Dominic, ” she hisses. “What in God's name do you think you're doing?”
Shit. I’d hoped to be better prepared for this moment.
Instinctively, I step in front of Shiloh, shielding her from their accusing glares. “Mother,” I start, my mind racing to find a level response that won't give them both a stroke…
Or start a Jerry Springer style feud right here on the sidewalk.