Page 34 of Down Knot Out
His head dips until his lips hover near my ear. “I don’t recall the doctor saying anything about kissing restrictions.”
My body responds to his proximity before my brain can intervene, heart accelerating, skin warming, a liquid heat pooling between my thighs.
But behind the desire comes concern, and I place my palms on his chest, the steady thump of his heart pounding beneath my fingertips. “You’re not supposed to exert yourself.”
Dominic’s gaze drops to my mouth. “I swear I won’t.”
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, halfamusement, half exasperation. “Is that supposed to convince me?”
He groans and drops his head to my shoulder. “No, that was bad. Can I have a redo?”
“Nope.” I push his chest. “Back to the couch, Sterling. Food’s getting cold.”
I grab the paper bag and brush past him, the brief contact sending another jolt through my system in a reminder of what we started.
Dominic follows me back to the living room, carrying the plates. The soft lighting welcomes us back, but the atmosphere has shifted, the raw edge of our earlier passion tempered by the interruption.
I settle onto the couch, reaching for a fuzzy teal pillow and wedging it between us as Dominic sits down.
“Really?” He raises an amused eyebrow at the pillow barrier.
“If you end up back at the hospital, I won’t kiss you again for a month.” I open the food containers, the aroma of garlic and soy sauce filling the apartment to offset our pheromones. “Maybe two.”
“I waited a decade, you think a month will stop me from crossing that line if it means more kisses right now?”
“I’m serious.” I pass him a plate loaded with mu shu pork, thin pancakes, and egg rolls,complete with sauce cups. “I don’t like seeing you in pain.”
His expression softens, humor giving way to vulnerability. “I know. And I won’t push my limits and land myself back in the hospital.”
“Good.” I reach for the remote on the side table and turn on the TV mounted above the electric fireplace. “Eat your food before it gets cold.”
Dominic settles back and grabs another of the pillows to hold his plate on his lap. “What are we watching?”
“Something unsexy.” I pass him the remote, careful to avoid touching his fingers again. “Since you’re the invalid, you can choose.”
He scrolls through the options, settling on an action movie we’d both loved in high school. It was one of the last films we watched together before everything imploded. The familiar opening sequence fills the screen, and another knot in my chest loosens at this small connection to a happier moment of our shared past.
“Good choice.” I settle deeper into the couch cushions, careful to maintain the pillow barrier between us.
Dominic starts rolling a pancake. “It has seven sequels now. Have you seen them?”
I dunk an egg roll in neon-orange sweet-and-sour sauce. “Only the first three. Once the main character died, I lost interest.”
He gasps in mock offense. “But they brought him back to life in the sixth movie.”
I smile at him. “Then we’ll just have to watch them all from the beginning to see how that happens.”
He studies me, his expression so soft my heart hurts. “Yes, we will.”
We eat in companionable silence, the familiar movie providing the background for this unfamiliar new territory we’re stepping in to. Halfway through the movie, Dominic sets his empty plate on the coffee table and stretches his arm along the back of the couch, fingers grazing my shoulder.
“How’s your head?” I peek over at his profile. “Is the TV hurting your eyes?”
“It’s okay for now.” His voice drops lower. “But cuddling would make it better.”
I scoff, but can’t ignore the flutters the simple statement sets off. “Flirting won’t sneak you past the pillow barrier, Sterling.”
“Can’t blame a man for trying.” He shifts, wincing as he adjusts his position.
