16. Lena
Lena
W e’ve been curled up in that armchair for almost half an hour, his arms wrapped tightly around me, lips wandering across my skin in slow, scattered kisses.
But there’s restlessness in every touch.
His hands grip my hips a little too firmly, his breath hot and uneven against my shoulder.
There’s a quiet intensity in him, quiet but coiled, like a storm barely held back.
If I could lift even a fraction of the weight from his chest, ease a little of that turmoil, I would.
Being close to him tonight has softened the sadness in his eyes.
He sees something in me. Something deeper, something I didn’t realize he was hoping for.
And tonight, for the first time, I understand how much he wants from me.
Not just my body, but all the pieces I’ve kept hidden.
I don’t know if I can give that. My life is a mess, and I’m still learning how to breathe inside it.
I reach up and cradle his face in my hand. “It’s late,” I whisper, hoping to ground us both. “Let’s go to bed.”
His eyes meet mine. There’s something raw in them. Unshaken. Real.
“I want you in our bed,” he says, voice low, a little rough. “I want to sleep next to you tonight. Hold you. Wake up beside you.”
He looks at me for a second, like he’s not sure I believe him.
“I’m not going to fuck you. Not tonight. And not because I don’t want you. Lena... I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”
He leans in, his lips close to my ear, breath warm against my skin. “I want you half-asleep, whispering my name. I want you even if I’m a thousand miles away. I’d come back the second you asked me to. Out of a meeting, out of bed, off a plane… I’d drop everything just to make love to you.”
He pulls back slightly, searching my face. “But the first time?” His voice softens. “It has to be different. I need you to want to give yourself to me… completely. To let go. To trust me enough to fall, and know I’ll be here to catch you.”
His hand trails down my arm. “So come on… let’s go to our bed.”
“It’s your bed, Dominic.”
He smiles. Slow, warm, a little possessive. “Not anymore. It’s ours.”
He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “I know you hate hotels. One day, I’ll build you the home you deserve.”
I hesitate for a second. “Dominic… do you really think we have a chance? Look at us. We’re a mess.”
“We’ve got as much of a chance as we’re willing to give ourselves.”
He goes quiet for a moment, like he’s deciding if he can say it out loud. When he speaks again, his voice has a quiet weight to it.
“Everyone carries secrets, Lena. Some bury them in silence. Others turn them into weapons. But what matters most is surviving them. Having the guts to show someone your mess, and not run when they show you theirs.”
His eyes don’t move from mine. Like he’s really seeing me.
“I showed you mine. And you, Sassy... you carry a shadow you’ve never shown the world. Sometimes it freezes you. Other times, it turns you into a warrior who‘d burn it all down just to feel something.”
“I’m not hiding anything, Dominic,” I say, dropping my gaze.
I get up and tug his hand, leading him toward the door. He doesn’t argue. On the way, he grabs his blazer off the back of a chair. We’re quiet. And I love him for how he respects my silence. Not filling it, not questioning it, holding space for it.
Wait, did I just say I love him?
When we reach our suite upstairs, he leads me straight to the big bedroom. He sets me gently on the edge of the bed and kneels to slip off my shoes, his hands slow and tender. Then he unbuckles his belt and starts working on the last buttons of his shirt. My eyes widen.
“We’re only sleeping, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
“I need to use my bathroom,” I murmur. “To wash up. I’ll be right back.”
He raises an eyebrow, amused. “There’s one right here, you know.”
“It’s yours,” I say automatically.
He rolls his eyes, then nods toward the master bath. “It has everything you could possibly need.”
His smirk deepens. “You can grab A T-shirt from my closet, or wear nothing. I won’t complain.” His tone shifts enough to disarm me. “But seriously… whatever makes you feel comfortable, Lena. You do you.”
I’ve seen that bathroom. Snuck a peek one day when he wasn’t around. Massive, luxurious, decadent. Jacuzzi faucets on the tub, a shower that could fit four people, and a toilet with a heated seat. Towels big enough to wrap around me twice. Total five-star indulgence.
He looks at me with a quiet plea in his eyes. His whole body says 'please don’t go' . So I stay.
***
Water pours over my shoulders, and my thoughts scatter in every direction. Wild, chaotic, impossible to hold still. I stay in the bathroom as long as I can, hoping he’ll be asleep when I come out. So I can just slide into bed beside him, without any conversation, questions, or confessions.
He’s already hinted he knows I’m holding something back.
That he’s waiting for me to admit it. The water lashes at my skin, sharp enough to ground me, driving out the tension of a day that’s been unreal.
But Dominic won’t leave my mind. His face, those eyes…
dark with pain. His hands, how they hold me like I’m the only thing keeping him grounded.
He doesn’t push, only offers and waits. And he makes it so fucking hard to resist, it messes with my head.
That rawness makes him feel even more real.
It can’t be easy, carrying something like that on your conscience.
Living with that guilt that gnaws at you.
Surrounded by people and parties and music and the kind of spotlight you can’t escape.
A constant celebration spinning around you…
while your soul quietly bleeds beneath it all.
While memories claw at you every time you try to outrun the past.
I understand that. Because that’s my life too. And I still don’t know if revenge, punishing Anton, will bring me peace… or if it will only drown the pain in a different kind of silence.
When I finally come out, he’s lying there, facing my side of the bed. His chest rises and falls in a calm rhythm. He’s asleep. The clock reads exactly 4 a.m. The beginning of a different life.
I switch off the light and slide under the covers. Dominic stirs, instinctively pulling me into him. His arm wraps around my waist completely, his leg draping over my thighs. Shit. He’s bare-ass naked.
“You smell good,” he whispers in my ear.
“It’s your shower gel.”
“Exactly,” he murmurs, and I feel him smile against my skin.
I shift slightly, the movement unintentionally sensual. My body presses lightly against his warmth. He feels solid, real.
There’s something about the way he holds me, even half-asleep, that quiets my thoughts. His skin, his breath, the weight of his arm around me… it slows everything down.
I’m tired of thinking. Tired of holding myself together so tightly. Maybe I can’t give him all of me yet. But tonight, his body, his mouth, feel like the only place I can let go. Just for a little while.
“Easy, baby,” he exhales, voice rough. “I’m not sure I can keep that promise much longer.”
“Then… don’t.”
He props himself up on one elbow, his eyes searching mine.
Something in his eyes holds me there. There’s no pressure in his eyes. Only a quiet kind of hope, like he’s offering the choice and holding his breath for my answer.
And I know I could pull away. He’d let me. He always has. But I don’t want to pull away. Because my body is already his. And maybe, just maybe, I want to see what happens if I stop holding back. Not all the way, not forever, but enough to let him in.
“I want you, Dominic,” I tell him.
And I don’t get another breath in. His mouth crashes onto mine, fierce and possessive.
He kisses me like he’s been holding back for years, like he’s finally allowed to take what he’s been craving.
His tongue claims mine, and I give in, completely.
He devours me. Bites at my lips with desperate heat, kissing me deep, invasive, with a tender kind of urgency that makes me moan.
When he lifts the blanket to settle over me better, I catch a glimpse of him, completely naked, his thick erection pressed boldly against my thigh, pulsing with need.
Hard and heavy. And my brain does the most ridiculous thing: it wonders if he’ll fit.
If that perfect, maddening length will slide into me and make me forget how to think.
I ache at the thought. He pulls my T-shirt over my head with one fluid motion. His hands are everywhere, hot, assured, worshipping. He cups my breasts, kneading them like he’s been dreaming about it for weeks. His thumbs brush over my nipples, and I arch into his palms, gasping.
His mouth trails along my neck, moving lower, grazing the curve of my shoulder before dipping toward my chest. He kisses me like he’s been thinking about this forever.
Like he wants to know every part of me with his lips.
His lips linger on one breast, then the other, savoring each reaction like he’s committing it to memory.
Circling, teasing, until his lips finally wrap around a nipple, hot, unhurried.
He sucks gently, his tongue flicking in slow, sinful strokes that make my back arch off the bed. A rough sound tears from his throat, raw and unfiltered, like he’s barely holding it together. The kiss keeps going down my ribs, over my stomach, lower... and I know exactly where he’s headed.
I’m already trembling. But before he gets there, I tug lightly at his hair, pulling him back up to me.
I need to feel him above me. I need to taste his skin.
He follows, breathing hard, eyes burning.
I press my lips to his chest, kissing lower until I find his nipple, and I take it between my teeth, teasing gently, just to hear that beautiful grunt he makes.
I bite his lower lip, playful, almost taunting, and slide my fingers slowly down the sculpted lines of his back.