Page 54 of Sinner's Vows

Eventually, he’s done with his side, and with a last firm tug, he closes the gap between us and weaves the end of the tie into a slip knot. Our hands are so close, I just need to stretch my fingers to touch the tips of his. I don’t dare look down to see if this affected him as much as it’s affected me. Whatever I tell my mind to do, my body disobeys. I’m aroused, and his sleep shorts are going to bear the evidence in the morning.

God. I hope he isn’t here when I wake up.

“There,” he says as he finally looks at me again. “Do I tie up something else, or do you only want to play Houdini with this little set-up of mine?”

“Houdini?” I laugh. It cracks the tension in the room, but not the tension trapped in my body. “Next thing, you’re going to tell me you’re a light sleeper.”

“I am. When I don’t take something to help me sleep.”

I blink. “You’ve trouble sleeping?”

I’m not sure why I’m even surprised. After what I’ve heard this after afternoon?—

“Don’t you?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.

When I don’t immediately answer, he leans back to switch off the bedside lamp. I wish he wouldn’t. Ever since the dungeon, I’ve nightmares of being stuck in a dark place, metal clanging, footsteps sounding, and Franco bearing down on me. Butheis here, and I’m not alone. I push my face into my pillow and breathe out a deep sigh that only wants to be a scream or a sob. I don’t know which.

With a few slight tugs at my arm, he gets under the duvet and uses his free hand to plump his pillow under his head. I shift, getting comfortable, but my arm is more stretched out than what I’d like. I inch a bit closer to him, knowing this isn’t a good idea.

“What do you need to sleep, Ariana?” he asks softly. “I have a whole drugstore of stuff for you?—”

“No, I… Thank you. After everything Franco fed me—” I break off. I don’t even know what he gave me to numb me enough to get me into the States.

And then, Dominic’s fingers brush against mine, gently sliding between the digits, in the most soothing hold as he strokes a line with his thumb over my index finger. “You’re going to be okay, sweetheart. You’re strong, but I know you’re even stronger than you think.”

For a long while, it’s quiet as I digest his words and succumb to his caress, the quiet unbroken flow of his thumb, up and down, the slight movement of his other fingers as they follow in his thumb’s wake. It’s nothing really, just hands, just fingers, but it touches my soul.

As if I have to answer back, I thread my fingers with his, not getting far as the digits are so much bigger and thicker than mine, the skin harder and callused, and yet, he knows just how to skim over my skin to make goosebumps sparkle and pop right to my core.

As my pinkie traces the line of his own, I feel it. The bump of scar tissue in the middle knuckle. It runs like a ring, with the dark tattoo basically hiding it.

“What happened with this one?” I ask, already knowing I’m not ready for the truth.

“Let’s not talk about that,” he says, an echo to my own words earlier, but he doesn’t retract his hand.

“I shared with you.” Somehow, it wasn’t hard at all. It was like a dam wall bursting, but he doesn’t know this. And hedoesn’t need to know more. I’m going to have to regain control over my head and mouth around this man.

“Hmm, you’ve told me some, but not everything.” There’s a smile in his voice, and it’s warm with kindness, as if he’s opening the space for me to just be and let go.

I drop my hand away from his, but we’re tethered so close to each other, his hand still rests against mine. He’ll lulled me into a false sense of security, and I can’t believe I’ve fallen for it.

I’m a fool. A trapped idiot, ruled by hormones that have never given me a day like today.

“I haven’t talked about it to anybody, sweetheart.” He sighs. “So if you want to know what happened to my hand, you’re going to have to earn it.”

29

DOMINIC

It’s still dark out. Ariana is curled up with her back against my chest, and I’ve shed the duvet down to our hips. I didn’t want her to roll away because I’m too hot.

Our hands are still tied, and when she tried to turn around the first time in her sleep, I was still awake, reassessing the shit show that’s my life. I didn’t block her with our bound arms. Instead, I shifted into her so she could turn with ease and drew closer to her.

Good thing, too, as I could soothe her in the night when she got anxious in her dreams, more likely nightmares. Weirdest thing was how she was so quiet about it, subdued and not even whimpering, but her breathing and the tremors running through her body spoke for themselves. This woman learned from an early age that giving in to emotion is dangerous—showing it, even more so.

I doubt she’d remember anything when she wakes up.

Hopefully not.

---