I scramble, breath stuttering, every excuse crashing into the other like a damn traffic pile-up.
“I just… the door was open. I was coming to ask you—”
I spin, mortified, reaching for the door.
Before I can open it all the way, his palm slaps flat against it above my head. He slams the door shut with a large, wet hand, blocking my exit.
I flinch—not from fear, but from the sheer force of it. From the closeness of him. Steam clings to his body; water drips from his skin, hitting my shoulders and sliding down the back of my neck, soaking into my shirt like drops of fire.
He’s right behind me, towering, and I can feel every inch of him like a gravitational force pulling me closer.
I stare ahead, too embarrassed to face him.
“Such a sneaky little thing,” his voice rumbles over my spine, amused. “Turn around.”
I turn slowly, caged by his heavy arm still pressed against the door above my head. Steam curls between us, and my heart drops to my stomach the moment I meet his eyes. He’s staring down at me, droplets rolling off the sharp lines of his chest, down the tattooed ridges of his abs, lower, until they slide off the curve of his—
I turn my head to the side, but he catches my chin. His fingers curl firm around it, tilting my face up, forcing me to look.
“Open your eyes,” he murmurs. “You wanted to look, right?”
He pushes off the door and steps back just a little. Enough to let me see all of him.
“Then look.”
Oh God.
My gaze scans every inch of his massive, tattooed body. His thighs are solid tree trunks, veined and strong, and between them, his cock hangs heavy. My mouth waters instantly.
I know he sees it—the flush crawling up my face and the way my eyes can’t stay off him.
He grins. “Did you take a good look?”
I swallow hard.
“Because it’s my turn now,” he adds. “Undress.”
My eyes snap up and heat travels straight between my legs.
“What?”
“I’m not going to repeat myself,” he says calmly. “You get what you give, Jessica. You can either take off your clothes, or I rip them off myself.”
My breath stutters as every nerve sparks to life.
He wouldn’t. Would he?
I stare up at him, heart hammering, throat tight, chest rising and falling so fast I might pass out.
I lift my chin, mustering all the defiance I have left. “You wouldn’t,” I shoot out, brow lifted.
The corners of his mouth curl. Something flashes behind his eyes.
Then he lunges for me. Then he lunges for me.
Chapter eighteen
~DOMINIC~
