Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Grace
The room was too quiet, but the air between us was anything but.
The weight of everything unsaid hung thick, wrapping around me, suffocating.
I stood just inside his bedroom doorway, my bag packed in the other room, my hands curled into fists at my sides to stop them from shaking.
I had spent years making hard choices, walking away from things that didn’t serve me, keeping my distance from people who could get too close.
So why did this feel different?
Dominic stood by the window, his back to me, broad shoulders illuminated by the city lights. His hands were braced against the glass, fingers splayed wide, tension lining every muscle in his body. He hadn’t spoken since I told him I was leaving.
Finally, he let out a slow, measured breath. “Your job is done.” His voice was flat, emotionless, like he had already decided to shut me out before I could be the one to leave first.
I swallowed hard. “Yeah.” My voice wasn’t as steady as I wanted it to be. There was a beat of silence, stretching too long, before I forced the next words out. “Guess that means I should go.”
He turned then. Slowly.
His dark eyes locked onto mine, unreadable, but there was something there. Something simmering beneath the surface.
“You don’t have to.”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest.
I should have laughed it off. Should have rolled my eyes and said something sharp to break the moment. But I couldn’t. Because he was looking at me like he meant it. Like he wasn’t just saying it to make things harder—but because he truly didn’t want me to leave.
My breath caught. “Don’t do that.”
His head tilted slightly. “Do what?”
“Make this harder than it already is.”
Dominic stepped closer. Not in a rush. Not hesitant. Like he already knew how this would end.
“Tell me it’s easy, then.” His voice was smooth, deep, but I could hear the challenge laced beneath it. “Tell me walking away from this means nothing.”
I couldn’t.
Because it wasn’t true.
The air between us felt charged, humming with something we had been pretending didn’t exist for too long. He was close enough now that I could feel the heat of his body, the pull of him, like gravity keeping me locked in place.
He reached out then, his fingers trailing slowly up my arm, barely touching, his palm grazing the bare skin at the curve of my shoulder. It wasn’t rushed. It was deliberate. A test. A promise. A warning.
“You could stay,” he murmured.
I swallowed, pulse hammering in my throat. “And then what?” My voice was barely a whisper. “What happens then?”
His jaw clenched. His fingers tightened slightly against my skin. “Then we figure it out.”
I let out a shaky breath, my resolve slipping, crumbling beneath the way he was looking at me.
“Dominic…”
That was all I got out before he moved.
His hand wrapped around the back of my neck, firm, commanding, pulling me into him, his lips crashing against mine with the kind of force that stole every thought from my mind.
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tentative or unsure. It was possessive, claiming, the kind that didn’t ask for permission—it took.
I gasped against his mouth, and he used it to his advantage, tilting his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in slow, dangerous strokes.
My fingers fisted into his shirt, clinging to him as my body melted into his, his other hand sliding down my spine, gripping my hip, pulling me flush against him.
I felt him.
All of him.
Hard, solid, ready to ruin me.
I made a sound in the back of my throat, somewhere between frustration and need, and he groaned in response, his grip tightening, his teeth grazing my bottom lip before sucking it between his own.
His voice was rough when he spoke. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
I couldn’t.
Because I did.
I wanted him.
I didn’t fight him when he lifted me effortlessly, hands gripping the backs of my thighs as he walked us toward the bed, his mouth never leaving mine.
He dropped me onto the mattress, and before I could react, he was on top of me, his weight pressing me down, his hands already pulling at my shirt.
“Take it off,” he murmured, his breath warm against my lips.
I shivered.
Then obeyed.
The moment the fabric was gone, his gaze darkened, his hands trailing down my bare skin, fingers exploring, teasing, taking his time.
“You’re mine tonight,” he murmured, his mouth moving down my throat, across my collarbone, lower.
Heat pooled between my legs, a slow ache building, burning.
His fingers trailed lower, brushing the waistband of my shorts, playing with the elastic but not moving further. Waiting.
“Say it,” he commanded, voice rough.
I swallowed. “I’m yours.”
His control snapped.
Clothes disappeared.
His hands gripped my thighs, spreading them apart, his breath hot against my skin, his mouth leaving a trail of heat as he kissed lower, lower?—
I gasped.
Dominic groaned, dragging his teeth against my skin. “I want to hear you.”
I wasn’t silent after that.
He took his time, teasing, pushing, making me beg before finally giving me what I needed.
And when he finally slammed into me, I saw stars.
His pace was ruthless, deep, dominant, taking everything I had to give and demanding more.
I clung to him, nails raking down his back, breath coming in sharp, broken gasps.
“Fuck, Grace,” he growled against my skin. “You feel—” His words cut off into a groan as I tightened around him, pulling him deeper.
He grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head, his movements growing rougher, his control slipping, unraveling.
“This is mine,” he whispered, his teeth grazing my ear.
I could only moan in response.
He let go of one of my wrists, sliding his hand down between us, his fingers finding the most sensitive part of me, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that had me arching off the bed, begging.
His voice was strained, breathless. “Come for me.”
And when I did, he was right behind me, groaning my name, holding me so tightly I thought I might break.
Silence filled the room, the only sound our heavy breathing.
I could still feel him, still feel his weight on top of me, his hands still gripping me like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.
Maybe I wasn’t ready either.
But morning always came.
The light slipped through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the sheets.
I blinked, feeling too warm, too comfortable, too safe.
Dominic stirred beside me, his arm draped across my waist, his breathing slow, steady.
I stared at the ceiling, my chest aching.
Walking away was supposed to be easy.
Then why did it feel impossible?