For once, I want someone to choose me because I matter.
Because I’m worth it.
Because a life without me in it doesn’t feel like an option.
Sure, I’ve already made her come with my hand, but that moment was a lapse in common sense. I was thinking with my dick, not with my brain. I wasn’t able to control myself the last time I touched her; so I don’t trust myself not to do it again. If I let this go too far, too fast, it could blow up in my face. Worse, it could hurt her all over again. And the last thing I want is to be another regret she has to recover from.
This is the first time in my life I’ve ever opened up to the possibility of something more. I can see this woman as the endgame for me, so a quick fuck—my usual MO—isn’t something I’d ever be interested in with Emily. She’s an all-or-nothing kind of girl.
“Kiss me, Dom,” she whispers. Her voice is soft but certain, even as I hold my ground.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Em,” I say carefully because I know myself well enough to understand I wouldn’t stop at just a kiss.
A flicker of disappointment crosses her face, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. She lifts her chin instead, her eyes sharpening. “I never took you for a coward.”
My brows jump so high they nearly disappear into my hairline. A low, dangerous rumble coils in my throat as I lean forward, shrinking the space between us to mere inches. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, cupcake,” I murmur, my voice thick with intent, “but coward has never been one of them.”
Her lips curve into a daring smirk. “Prove it,” she whispers, the words charged with challenge.
Common sense screams at me to stand up and walk away—that would be the sensible choice—but the man inside, the one who’s spent his life clawing to prove his worth, won’t let me.
I close the tiny distance between us, pressing my lips tohers again. Her hands clutch my shirt, tight, desperate, and I fight the urge to grab her and pull her even closer.
My hands remain on the sofa, framing her as I try to hold myself back. I don’t trust myself to touch her anywhere else, not when being this close to her makes me feel like I’m slipping into the abyss.
Her lips are impossibly sweet, and every kiss is a drug I can’t quit. I catch myself getting lost in the taste of her, in the pull of her mouth against mine. She’s addictive.
Without me even realising, I let myself fall, deepening the kiss, and suddenly nothing else exists but her.
My free hand moves almost on its own, threading through her golden locks, tangling in the strands as I tilt her head slightly to get a better angle.
The tips of her fingers glide up to my shoulders, tugging me closer, and the rest of the world disappears.
Every fibre of me aches to lay her back, to feel her beneath me, and finally give in to the things I’ve been imagining doing to her for years. I can feel the pull, the heat building; every nerve ending is on fire, but I won’t rush this. I want to savour her.
She’s not like the others. She’s different, and I’ve never felt for anyone the way I feel for her. This might make me sound like a pussy, but I want this to mean something.
I want to show Emily she’s worth treasuring. That I’m not her ex, and I’d never hurt or take her for granted. She deserves more than that, and I’m determined to give it to her. If she’ll let me, that is.
When we finally pull back, just enough to breathe, her forehead rests against mine, and we both grin; the unspoken acknowledgment of everything we’ve been holding back is now hanging between us.
I draw back further; my hands travel up her calves, tracing each curve with care. I let my touch drift higher, unhurried, lingering just enough to make her aware of it.
“Whose shirt are you wearing?” I ask because if it belongs to her ex or any other man, I’m taking it outside and setting it on fire.
“It’s yours.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Mine?”
My hands pause as I study the fabric, and I realise she’s right. It is mine. There’s something about seeing her in my clothes that makes me want to puff out my chest like a damn caveman.
She nibbles the corner of her bottom lip and nods. “It somehow ended up in my laundry pile, so I kept it.”
A crooked smile tugs at my lips. My eyes don’t leave hers as my hands trace a slow, teasing path along her legs. “So I’m living with a kleptomaniac?” I tease, my voice lower now. “Do I need to start locking up my valuables?”
She lets out a soft laugh as my fingers brush higher along her inner thigh. Emily’s breath stutters, giving herself away. The barely there sound sends a jolt straight through me, causing all the blood in my body to rush straight to my cock.
My hands slip under the T-shirt, pushing it up around her ribcage as I go, completely exposing the plain white cotton underwear she’s wearing beneath. She doesn’t say anything as I spread her legs wider, but her breathing is coming in short, shallow spurts.
