Page 139 of Love Among the Ruins
She needed to get out of this corset and skirt. Reaching back, she undid the first hook at the top, but then she stopped, unable to go further. She remembered. For a paralyzed minute, her muscles turned rigid because there was no way she could get out of this by herself.
Her mind churned over the possibilities of what she could do but there was no way out of it, no avoidance of the fact.
She needed Dominic’s help.
Her heart somersaulted dangerously. Anymore and it would spring right out of her chest. What a mess she was in. Dominic touching her again was going to make her fall to pieces.
Lifting her skirt with one hand, she nervously tiptoed into the hallway, and stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up. “Uh...Dominic ...” Her voice was weak, unsure. Pathetic. She cleared her throat, her mouth turning sand dry, her pulse racing. “Dominic.”
“What is it?”
She jumped at his voice behind her, and spun around, her eyes going wide. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, his tie off, his collar loose and revealing a dusting of hairs behind the shirt opening. He’d discarded his cufflinks and rolled up his sleeves. Her gaze dropped to his veined forearms. She clenched her insides. Her brain chose this moment to retrieve her safely stored away vision of him from this morning in his swim shorts.
“Eleni?”
Her gaze settled on his lips, before slowly moving up to his nose, his eyes, every little feature that made up that gorgeous and beautiful face of his. So angular it might as well have been carved out of stone. “I can’t undo my ...”
“Oh, right.” He nodded, his expression blank, his tone calm, as if she’d asked him what time it was. “Turn around.”
Her jellied legs managed to obey. She turned around, thankful that she could rest her hands on the bannister and support herself enough to remain standing.
“Sorry ... to ... bother ... you,” she murmured, forcing her mind to focus on the childbirth videos she’d been shown in class as a teenager in high school. Images which had scarred her forever.
“It’s no bother.” His touch was electric, making her jolt. He moved her hair to one side, exposing her neck and back, and goosebumps scampered along her naked arms. In that second, she forgot to breathe.
“What the fuck?” he cried, rage pouring out of him. His fingers lightly touched the part of her shoulder which was hurting. That was where she’d hit the wall. “Is it bruised?”
“It’s grazed and bloody. Fuck that son of abitch.” His voice spiked with rage.
She turned to face him, already imagining the torrent of thoughts flashing through Dominic’s minid. “He didn’t push me. I fell back when I pulled my arm away from him.”
But Dominic was quiet, and she couldn’t even read the reaction on his face. Then he disappeared, leaving her with a burning sensation on her skin, not from the graze, but from where his fingers had been.
He returned a few seconds later, with a small medical kit, which he set on the staircase.
“What are you doing?” she cried. “It’s just a scratch.”
“It’s not.”
She watched as he poured something out of a bottle onto a pad of cotton wool.
“Dominic!” This was overkill. “I’m not dying.”
He stood behind her again, sending those sizzling sensations hurtling through her body, putting her receptor cells on high alert. Her heart leapt and twirled like a ballerina in love.
“This might hurt,” he warned, before sweeping the ball of cotton gently over her wound. She didn’t even feel the pain, her nerves were so drunk on the touch of his fingers, her mind awash with whimsical fantasy, he could have stitched her skin together with knitting needles and she would have been fine. “That should help keep it clean. I won’t cover it. Let it breathe.”
“Thank you, Dr. Steele.”
“I should have punched that bastard when I had the chance.”
She faced him again, alarmed by the rage in his voice. “Dominic, stop. Please, stop. Don’t get so worked up about him. He’s gone. I won’t ever see him again.”
“No, you won’t.” He looked deep in thought, a scowl on his face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”
“Dominic.” He was overreacting, saying things that made no sense. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s not your fault.”
But his face showed otherwise. “I should have let Sven watch over you. No one’s going to do a fucking thing to me, but you.You’rethe one who always gets the assholes.”
