17. Elena #3
“You told me the truth anyway.” He thrusts slowly, holding my gaze while every inch of him drags through me. “You asked me to stay. You let me touch you after showing me the part of you that expects care to become leverage.”
His hand slides over my ribs, gentle despite the tension shaking through his arm.
“You never have to earn being cared for, Elena. You don’t have to give me the right answer first.”
The words dismantle a belief I’ve held for years: that care is conditional.
He says it too plainly for me to turn this into something only physical.
I hook my leg higher over his hip. “I want you closer.”
His grip eases at my hip. “Tell me how.”
“Hold me tighter.” I slide my arm around his shoulders. “I need to feel all of you.”
Dominic groans as my body closes around him. “I love hearing you tell me what you need.”
He kisses me again, and his control begins to slip. His thrusts grow harder, his breathing rougher against my mouth. I lift my hips to meet him, taking everything he gives me and pulling him deeper.
Even when his thrusts turn rough, one hand stays cradled beneath my head while the other holds my hip. Every uneven breath against my cheek tells me how much restraint this costs him.
I drag my nails down his back.
“Fuck.” His hips snap into mine. “Do that again.”
I do, and the sound he makes turns my entire body liquid.
Dominic has spent years hiding how much he wants from me. I feel it now in the tremor of his arms and the increasingly uneven rhythm of his body. He is just as exposed as I am, even if he still acts like he has this under control.
“Look at me,” I whisper.
His eyes lock on mine.
I hold his face and give him what I can, the truest words I am brave enough to say right now. “I want you here.”
His mouth parts, and for one second he looks as shaken as I feel. “You have me.”
His hand slides between us. I cover it with mine and guide his fingers to my clit.
“Here.”
His thumb circles slowly. “Like this?”
“Yes.”
Pleasure gathers low in my stomach, tightening with every slow drag of his cock and every deliberate stroke of his thumb.
I say his name without being asked. “Dominic.”
His control flickers. “Big D belongs to a stupid college story. Mr. Rowe belongs at work.” His voice turns rough. “Dominic is the man who’s wanted you for years. That’s the name I want from you.”
He wants the part of me that knows him beyond the story and the title, the part that chose Dominic before I was ready to admit it.
“Dominic,” I say again, holding his gaze.
My body tightens around him. He groans and drives deeper, his thumb pressing more firmly against my clit as his rhythm begins to break.
“Stay with me.”
“I’m here.”
The pressure coils tighter, each slow stroke keeping me open to him.
I hold his face and refuse to look away.
I gasp his name as I come, clinging to him while every muscle pulls tight.
The clench of my body takes the last of his control. He buries his face against my neck and thrusts deeper, his arm tightening around me.
“Elena.” My name tears out of him. “Fuck, I can’t—”
His rhythm breaks. He drives into me once more, then stills deep inside me while his body shudders against mine.
I hold him through every pulse, my fingers moving into his hair as his breath burns against my throat.
I love you rises to the back of my tongue, terrifying and true.
“Dominic, I…” The words are right there, behind my teeth. I look at him, at the hope softening the sharp lines of his face.
He lifts his head.
Hope flashes across his face, so unguarded it nearly gives me the courage to finish.
I can’t make myself say the words.
I touch his cheek and look into the eyes of the man who has spent years arranging his life around me.
My thumb strokes over his cheekbone, a silent apology for the words I can’t say. “I know,” I whisper.
The tension around his eyes eases.
He understands.
Later, the bedroom is dark except for the light Chicago throws against my windows.
Dominic lies beside me with one arm beneath my head and the other around my waist. His breathing has evened out, though I know he is awake. His thumb traces a slow line along my ribs, the same quiet touch he gave my ankle on the couch.
He stayed, the way he always does.
I used to think our ending was built into the arrangement. A child. Two homes. A custody schedule negotiated down to holidays and pickup times. Dominic would remain in my life because the contract required it, and I would never have to wonder whether he chose to be there.
Now I understand that neither the ending I planned nor the one I fear is inevitable.
Dominic has handed the choice back to me without a deadline or threat. He has offered me more and left me free to refuse it, even knowing refusal will hurt him.
The freedom he gives me makes the decision real.
I shift closer until my cheek rests over his heart. His arm tightens around me without hesitation.
One word would close the smallest distance left between us.
Yes.
I know which ending I want. I know the answer is yes.
Fear remains larger than my courage by the smallest possible margin.
I still cannot say it.