He threads a hand through his hair, causing some pieces to stick up on end. Messy. Ruffled. So much more attractive than it should be given the cloud that’s hanging over him.
“Can we pretend, just for right now, that we’re not still figuring this out?” He points between us. “Can we skip to the part where I’m allowed to hold you after a bad shift? Please.”
Something cracks open inside me, a warmth that spreads through the uncomfortable pressure that’s been pressing against me since he got home. Dominic isn’t the type to ask for comfort, which means whatever happened is worse than I could imagine.
I nod before I even fully process his words. “Yes.”
He closes the distance between us in two steps, his large hands finding my waist with a gentleness that doesn’t match the rawness in his voice. He tugs me toward him, his arms wrapping around me like they’ve done it a hundred times before, though this feels different. He’s holding me like I’m the anchor he’s been searching for, like if he lets go, he might fall apart.
I sink into him, resting my cheek against his chest, listening to the rapid rhythm of his heart. For a moment,there’s nothing but the sound of our breathing—his, heavy and strained, and mine, steadying.
His chin drops to the top of my head, and I feel him exhale, his body sagging just slightly. “This okay?” he murmurs, his lips brushing my hair.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “This is okay.”
His grip tightens, just a little. “Good,” he whispers. “Because I needed this more than I knew.”
We stand like that for what feels like forever, his body slowly losing the tension it carried through the door, his weight shifting as if he’s letting me bear some of it. I don’t mind. I’d hold more if he let me.
After a long stretch of silence, I say softly, “You want to talk about it?”
His fingers press into my lower back in a way that feels like a no. “Not yet,” he says finally. “Just…not right now.”
“Okay,” I reply easily. I don’t push. I don’t need to. Whatever it is, he’ll tell me when he’s ready.
“I’m going to shower. Wash work off me.” He untangles himself from me and is up the stairs before I can process what’s just occurred. But before my mind can grasp it, my body is in protest, missing the feeling of being wrapped up in him.
My defenses are weak, armor cracked, walls crumbling. He’s breaking through everything I built so much faster than I thought possible.
Once the water in the shower starts, I’m able to snap out of whatever daze Dominic left me in. I’m used to his humorous,mischievous side, but I’m completely unprepared for the serious realities of his job.
The sound of water gets louder as the creak of the door squeaks.
“Hey, Ellie,” he calls out. “Can you grab me a towel, please?”
“Coming,” I yell, already jogging up the stairs. I grab a fresh towel out of the dryer and knock on the bathroom door.
Steam poursout as heopens it, the heat curling around him like a soft mist. He’s removed his shirt and is only in tactical pants and a gold chain.
“Here,” I say, holding the towel out toward him. Anything else I might’ve said gets clogged in my throat.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the sight of Dominic shirtless. It’s worse now that I know what he feels like. All it took was one night in his arms and I’ve already memorized the hard planes of his chest, the muscled curve of his pecs, the pattern of his abs as they molded to my back. Smooth skin in some places, scruffy hair in others. I could spend hours dancing my fingers across his chest and stomach, exploring.
He’s beautiful.
My gaze moves over him, and I can’t help but take in the way his chest rises and falls, each breath emphasizing the dip of his collarbones. The muscles of his abdomen are a perfect arrangement of hard lines and ridges, cascading in an unreasonably symmetrical formation down to where his pants sitlow on his hips.
It’s ridiculous, really—how a human body can look like that.
“Ellie girl.” Dominic’s voice pulls me from my stupor, the faintest trace of amusement lacing through it.
My eyes snap up to his, heat rushing to my cheeks as I realize I’ve been staring far too long.
“Uh, towel,” I stammer, thrusting it toward him again, as if he’s not already reaching for it.
The corner of his mouth quirks up just enough to hint at a smirk. “Thank you.”
He grabs it and I turn on my heels, heart pounding in my chest, and blurt, “You’re welcome,” under my breath, but it comes out a little strangled.
