19. Lena #2
If we keep this up, we’re going to have a real fight. And I had so much to tell him tonight. I step out first, clutching the plate. His steps follow, heavy and quiet.
***
We step into the suite. I drop the plate on the table.
The dessert slides, spilling over the edge, but I don’t care.
I turn to face him, ready to snap, but I freeze.
Dominic’s standing in the doorway, fists clenched at his sides, jaw tight, eyes dark and stormy.
He looks at me like he can’t decide if he wants to argue or kiss me.
“Why were you sitting like that with him?” he growls, voice low and rough.
“With Mario?” I let out a sharp laugh.
“It was a conversation between two normal adults, Dominic. If you’d shown up on time, maybe you could’ve joined us.”
“With that idiot? Not a chance.”
He rarely insults people. What did Mario ever do to him?
“He was touching you,” Dominic says, slower now. “And you let him.”
My hands grip the edge of the table. “Because I’m not a thing, Dominic. I’m not yours to control. It wasn’t some secret hookup. It was just a conversation.”
We stare at each other, tension spiking. Neither of us moves. The silence is heavy with everything we’re not saying, anger, jealousy and something else we both feel but won’t name. He takes a step toward me. “You drive me crazy sometimes,” he says softly. “But you’re mine, Lena.”
My chest tightens as heat rushes under my skin. “You don’t get to say that like I’m something you own,” I whisper, but my voice falters.
He nods slightly, his forehead almost brushing mine. “I know. I… I need you to understand what you mean to me.”
A tremor starts low in my back, tension curling tighter as he nears.
I feel the heat of his hands before they land on me—then they do, finding my waist with quiet certainty.
The plate on the table? Forgotten. Then he kisses me.
Hard. Possessive. There’s no softness in it—only hunger.
He lifts me and sets me on the table, pushing the plate to the side.
And I kiss him back with everything I’ve been holding in.
No apologies. No explanations. Just the two of us, claiming, needing, belonging.
We’re holding each other tight, lips still tingling, skin alive with anticipation.
His hands drift across my waist, my back, my shoulder blades, like he’s making sure I’m real.
Then he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine.
His grip changes, less urgency now, more grounded.
He’s not pulling me in anymore. He’s holding me like he’s afraid I might vanish.
We stay like that for a moment. Breathing the same air, sharing the same silence, everything else fading around us. He closes his eyes. And when he speaks, his voice is low and rough, tight with everything he’s holding back.
“Lena, I can take a lot. The shelter. Your secrets. Your sarcasm. That little habit of running from me... completely useless, by the way.”
I feel the heat of his mouth against my skin. “But there is no version of reality, none, where you, as long as you’re wearing my name, even think about another man. I’m right here, twenty-four seven. For anything. For as many orgasms as you want. You already have a man. Yours. Only yours.”
Everything in me stutters, but I meet his gaze, my pulse thudding in my ears. I slide off the edge of the table, feet hitting the floor, but I don’t step back. I don’t want to.
“Really?” I snap bitterly. “You’re only mine? For how long, Dominic? Until you get bored? Until you miss your old playboy lifestyle?”
He goes still. His eyes lock on mine, burning.
“You actually believe that?” he asks, voice raw. “That I’m playing games with you? Didn’t you hear me the other night? When I told you what you mean to me? When I told you I love you?”
I fold my arms across my chest.
“No. You didn’t say you love me. You said falling for me might not be a bad idea. Not exactly a grand declaration. You twist words to avoid saying anything real.”
He tenses, then runs a hand through his hair, pacing like he’s trying not to lose it.
“Who’s talking about half-truths now, Lena? You want to get real? Fine. Let’s talk about the ones you’re hiding. What do I need to do for you to trust me?”
I hold it in. “I do trust you. Up to a point. Just don’t push your way into parts of my life I’m not ready to share yet.”
He leans against the wall, arms crossed, eyes sharp with frustration.
“Newsflash, sweetheart: I’m already in your life. All in. My body. My name. My soul, which I laid bare for you two nights ago. My money, my resources, my protection. Everything. And you’re out here holding hands with another man, in my hotel bar. And I’m the one overreacting?”
“You’re insane,” I mutter, trembling with frustration. “I can’t talk to you like this.”
He pushes off the wall, stepping closer.
“Come on, Lena, be honest. Has Mario ever tried to kiss you? Or told you that you’re beautiful, smart, or very special? Did he ever whisper anything to you he shouldn’t have?”
He’s inches from my face again.
“I know what he sees when he looks at you. I saw his face, Lena. At the wedding party. And tonight, before I walked over. Don’t pretend he’s just your mentor.
You’re na?ve if you think he showed up for a professional catch-up and not because he wants you.
I don’t like him. And I’m rarely wrong about men like that. ”
I freeze, thrown off by the questions. And then I remember. One night. After a win. He was drunk. Mario tried to kiss me. We never spoke about it.
Shit. Maybe Dominic’s right.
“What is it, baby?” he murmurs with a sly grin. “Your face says it all.”
I shoot him a death glare but say nothing. I’m not giving him the satisfaction. But maybe his radar was right. “Let’s drop this,” I say tightly. “Before we both say something we’ll regret.”
I turn and head for the bedroom. I’m done with this conversation.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Dominic growls behind me.
“To shower. And sleep,” I toss back without turning. “You’re too worked up to talk right now.”
“And which bedroom do you think you’re sleeping in?” he adds, following closely. “I thought we agreed you’re staying in the master with me. I’ll help you bring your things.”
I turn to him, exasperated. “Now? Really? Don’t you have places to be? Isn’t it the weekend? Don’t you need to be at the club?”
Dominic crosses his arms and stares at me like I’m the only thing that matters. “I only need to be where I want to be. And right now, I want to be with you.”
I cross my arms hard. “Well, I don’t want to be with you.” I take a step back. “You’re angry. Jealous. Stupidly jealous.”
In a blink, he moves. He closes the distance and pins me gently between him and the wall.
His hands land flat on either side of my head.
He’s so close I can feel the heat of his chest, the rise and fall of his breath.
His eyes, hard and guarded earlier, have softened.
Then he leans in and brushes his lips along my cheek.
Slow, gentle, and so tender it nearly undoes me.
“I’m not jealous,” he whispers. “I’m terrified. Terrified I’ll lose you. That I’ll lose the only place that’s ever felt like home.”
His teeth graze my earlobe, teasing, and his voice drops to a hot whisper: “I’m hopelessly in love with you, Lena. From the first night I saw you in my club.”
A wave of emotion crashes through me. This isn’t a game. It’s not ego or sarcasm. It’s a truth that scares and seduces me at the same time.
He leans in, close enough to feel, voice uneven. “Lena… if fear is the only thing keeping you from believing me, I swear to you that I’m not playing. Not with this. Not with you.”
Every word lands like a vow. “You asked me this morning, after we made love, if I was going to stay.”
“I remember,” I whisper back.
He smiles, but the weight in his eyes doesn’t fade. “Do you remember what I said?”
My voice barely makes it out. “All the damn time, baby.”
Dominic lets out a low laugh, his face still close to mine. His voice drops, rough and frayed at the edges. “But what about you, Lena? Are you going to stay?”
I loop my arms around his neck, my skin burning from being near him. “I didn’t walk into this marriage planning to stay long,” I whisper. “But every day with you makes leaving harder.”
His hands tighten on my waist, like he’s bracing for impact. I press on, my voice low, but sure. “You drive me insane when you’re jealous, but God, you turn me on so much I can’t even think straight.”
I lean in, close enough that our lips almost touch.
“I don’t know how long I’ll stay. Maybe as long as you keep making it impossible for me to leave.”
I’ve never said anything like that to anyone.
I pause, eyes locked on his, my body already aching for his touch. My voice drops, thick with need. “But right now? I don’t want control. I don’t want space. I just want you.”
My hand finds his chest, fingers trembling. “I want you to take me,” I whisper. “To claim me like I already belong to you.”
I press my lips to his, soft and slow, then trail down his jaw to the curve of his neck. “Please, Dominic,” I breathe. “Make love to me. In our bed. Make me forget everything but you.”
He groans softly, a sound half desperate, half undone. “If you talk to me like that,” he growls, voice deep in his chest, “I won’t make it to the bed.”
He slips the dress off my shoulders in one fluid motion, letting the fabric pool soundlessly around my feet.
The plate with the forgotten dessert crashes to the floor.
Neither of us looks back. His hands grip my waist, lifting me effortlessly onto the cold granite counter.
I gasp at the chill against my skin, but the heat in his touch scorches through me, erasing everything else.