Page 31 of Down Knot Out
No big deal at all.
I fill two glasses with water, ice cubes clinking the sides. My hands shake, causing tiny ripples across the surface. Going with Dominic to his impersonal hotel room would have been better. Having him here, in my private space, is so muchmorethan I anticipated.
It’s too intimate. Too real. The hotel would have been safer, like he first suggested. But I insisted on bringing him here, determined to prove I could handle his presence in my life again.
Now I’m not so sure.
The water glasses sweat in my hands as I return to the living room, tiny droplets sliding down the sides. As Dominic watches me approach, my pulse hammers in my throat and my fingers tremble. The glasses clink, announcing the nervousness I can’t suppress.
I reach the coffee table, a vintage trunk I found at a flea market and repurposed, and I lean forward to set the glasses down. But his attention turns me into a jittery mess, and my hands shake harder, water sloshing over the rim of one glass, then the other, forming small puddles on the wooden surface.
“Sorry.” I straighten too fast. “I’ll get a towel to clean this up.”
“It’s just water,” Dominic soothes, but I’m already turning, fleeing back to the kitchen.
My kitchen towels hang from a hook by the sink, one printed with dancing unicorns and another plain blue one frayed at the edges from years of use. I grab the blue one, twisting it between my fingers as I try to calm my racing heart.
What is wrong with me? It’s just spilled water. Just Dominic. Just the two of us alone in my apartment with the lights dimmed and years of history between us.
I take a steadying breath, inhaling the lilies-and-lilacs pheromones that fill my home, now mingled with citrus and musk. Our scents intertwine in the small space like they used to, back when we were everything to each other.
With the towel clutched in my hand, I return to the living room. Dominic hasn’t moved, but he follows my approach. I drop to my knees beside the coffee table, dabbing at the small puddles with the edge of the towel.
“Sorry,” I mumble again, focusing on the task. “I’m just so?—”
Before I can finish, warm fingers close around my wrist, stilling my movement. The touch sends a jolt through me, like static electricity butdeeper, a current that runs all the way to my core.
“Chloe.” My name on his lips comes out soft yet insistent. “Look at me.”
I raise my face to him, aware of how close we are, with me kneeling on the floor and him leaning forward on the couch, our faces only inches apart. His hand still encircles my wrist, his thumb resting over the place where he can feel my pulse beating frantically.
“You don’t need to be nervous,” he says. “I’m not going to do anything.”
Something twists in my chest. Disappointment? Relief? I’m not sure, only that his words created a hollow space beneath my ribs.
“You’re not?” The question slips out before I can stop it, small and vulnerable.
The gray in his eyes turns stormy as his pupils dilate, and his focus drops to my lips with a hunger that steals my breath. “Do you want me to?”
The question hangs between us, charged with possibility.
My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and his nostrils flare at the movement. The room is too warm, the air too thick with our mingled scents while his touch burns my skin.
“I thought—” I swallow, finding my voice. “Ithought we were courting. That’s what it meant when you signed the contract. I didn’t agree just for show. I thought you meant it, too.”
“I meant it.” His voice drops lower into a purr. “Very much.”
“Then I don’t want it to be pretend for you,” I whisper, finding the courage to push past this final barrier. “Because it’s not pretend for me.”
His free hand comes up to cup my cheek, his palm warm, and my breath catches at the tenderness of his touch. “Nothing about the way I love you is pretend.”
He searches my face before he leans forward, closing the distance between us with aching slowness, giving me every opportunity to pull away.
Last time, I did. Last time I’d run scared.
My pulse races wildly, and my body trembles.
He’s going to kiss me if I let him. If I don’t turn away again.
