Page 312 of Phobia
The food enters her mouth before I finish.
Nodding to the others, I give them a wry smile. “You guys can head off.”
All three leave, Frank wishing me luck as he passes, and I get a plate of food and join Naomi at the table. “Alone at last.”
Naomi says nothing, focusing on chewing her food as much as possible.
“I was going to go easy on you today, but it seems I need to do something to put a smile on your face.”
Her eyes snap to mine, but instead of speaking, she slowly reaches for her coffee, having found a delaying tactic. “You don’t make me smile.”
“No. I make you scream.”
Naomi gently places her cup back on the table, failing to hide the slight shake of her hand. “Is it worth me trying-”
“To negotiate?” I challenge; the guilt in her expression, saying it all.Time to put this conversation to an end, once and for all.“Sure, why not? Which part of Ant’s body are you willing to trade?”
She almost chokes. “What?”
“Negotiations work both ways, Naomi. If you want to use condoms, it will cost you.”
Her cheeks flush as the anger builds inside her. I doubt she realises that I’m already helping her. It’s better to burn in the fires of rage than suffocate in the unyielding grip of fear.
“Are we going to have this conversation again?” I pull my phone from my pocket. “Because Tommy is just a tap of the screen away.”
She stares at me, delaying her defeat for as long as possible. “No.”
“No, what?” I snap, and she jumps.
“No. We won’t have this conversation again.”
“Good.” Reaching for her plate, I drag it away. “Because ‘no’ is no longer part of your vocabulary.”
Rising, I walk to her side and hold out my hand. Grinding her jaw, she stares ahead, rebelling the only way she can as she places her hand in mine and stands. Saying nothing, I lead her upstairs, her feet moving slowly, the pulse in her wrist beating like a tribal drum.
We step into my room, and I guide her towards the bed, moving her to stand at the foot next to her bags. Running my hands through her hair, I wrap it around my fist and pull her head back so she’s flush against my chest. Prolonging her torture, I slowly lean and nuzzle her neck, grazing it as I order, “Unpack.”
Chapter 23
The air leaves my body, and I gasp in relief when Dom utters that one word that buys me more time. My clumsy fingers reach for the bag, and Dom’s hand is on mine in an instant, helping to guide the zipper open.
Stepping away, taking the unwelcome heat with him, Dom opens a wardrobe, revealing a space for me. I take the first item of clothing from my bag without focusing and reach for a hanger.
“That’s fancy,” Dom says as I place the floral summer dress on the rail.
“I packed for Milan,” I whisper, unable to clear the tension in my throat.
Dom turns me to face him, burning my flesh as his fingers graze my cheek. “You’d look beautiful no matter what. And clothing is optional.”
Dom’s lips meet mine, causing my stomach to flutter. He’s gentle, but only for a moment, and then his tongue demands access. Lips parting, I don’t fight him. Not only because I agreed, but because this part; I want. I’ve been fucking myself with my vibrator to the memory of Dom’s touch since we met.
I want him.
That’s the worst thing about my phobia—the conflict it causes. The primal need to be touched, pleasured,owned, battling against the fear of what will happen if I lose control. If I end up being that fraction of a percentage, just like my mum.
“Stop,” I gasp as her face assaults my mind: an image my brain created since I have no memories of my own.
Dom’s hold on my neck tightens, and his body stiffens.
