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What’s wrong?
It’s a good question. A question I don’t have the answer to because I don’t freaking know what just came over me.
“I don’t know,” I tell Dominic. Because it’s the truth.
“Yes, you do. It’s not like you to get nervous. What happened?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I just had a weird feeling. It’s fine. It passed. I’m probably just tired.”
“You sure?”
“Yep. Can you just drop me at my apartment? I’ll figure out how to get my car home tomorrow.”
“Sure.” Dom is way more agreeable than I thought he’d be.
I wish I could get a read on the guy. I just never can. When he stops out front of my building, I thank him for the ride and jump out. I don’t know what’s happened but seeing him with that baby had me thinking thoughts I should not be thinking. Thoughts of him holdingourbaby, which is ludicrous. I don’t even want kids—well, not for a really long time. And definitely not until I’m married.
But do I want to spend the rest of my life with someone as intense as Dominic McKinley? I don’t know. He’s a lot, in a lot of ways.
I don’t even have the urge to open all of the cabinets when I walk into my apartment. What’s the point when I know I’m being watched? And by whom? I’m not really afraid of Dominic. I’m afraid of how attached to him I’m going to become. I’m already spending too much of my time thinking about him, remembering things he’s done to me. Dreaming up other things I want to do with him.
I walk into the bathroom and close the door—though I’m not sure why I bother, seeing as I know Dom has cameras in here too. Staring at my reflection, I tie my hair up in a messy bun on top of my head, run a washcloth under the water, and wipe my face before removing the makeup from my neck. I used it to cover the marks from where the belt cut into my skin—they are still red and angry. I brush my fingers along the bruised flesh, remembering the pleasure I felt right before I blacked out. It was unbelievable.
And that’s what scares me.
How far am I prepared to go to chase that high? What am I prepared to let Dominic do to me for a quick release?
A release that’s unmatched by anything I ever felt before. Still, it’s a dangerous addiction to have, because I really don’t know how far I’m willing to go. I’m not getting any answers from staring at myself, so I turn around and switch on the shower. Leaving my clothes in a pile on the floor, I step under the steaming water. My neck stings as the hot stream washes over the tender marks.
Worth it, I think to myself before cringing and wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Dominic stood in front of me and told me he wanted me dead, because that’s the only way he could guarantee that no one else would ever be able to touch me. And what did I do? I got naked and practically begged him to fuck me.
Yet, when I watched him with his cousin’s baby in the office at Unhinged, I freaked out. Something about how normal he seemed in that moment sent me into a panic. When I think of him as just some obsessed guy who knows how to rock my socks, I can handle it. This. Us. I know what it is. We’ll fuck like bunnies until he gets bored and moves onto the next girl. I’ll probably spend the rest of my life attempting to find someone who can deliver the same level of orgasmic bliss. And it’ll make me a bitter old bat because I’ll probably never find it
I can live with that though. Because, at the end of the day, I’ll be fine. Mostly. But when I think of him as a normal, living, breathing guy with a family that does normal, everyday things… When I think of how he smiled and seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with his cousin and her baby… That’s when I know I’m in dangerous territory.
Because in that moment, I thought…what if?
What if we could have a normal relationship? Date, marry, have kids? What if he is more than just some creeper who’s obsessed with me?
These are the thoughts that scare me the most. Because, if I open my heart to the possibility that we could be more, that this isn’t a fleeting moment in the story of my life, that’s how I’m going to end up destroyed beyond repair. Opening myself up to the possibility of Dominic McKinley being the final chapter in my story will only lead to heartache—the type I’ll never recover from. So it’s best I don’t see him as anything more than a guy who can work my body better than anyone else ever has. I don’t need to be having thoughts of developing a normal relationship with him.
Turning off the shower, I grab a towel from the heated rail and wrap it around myself. Then I walk into the kitchen and turn on the kettle to make a cup of tea. I pick up my phone and scroll through my messages while I wait for the water to boil. There aren’t any messages from him. I don’t know why I expected there to be. The fact my heart sinks at not knowing where he went, not having him reach out to me, isn’t good.
Maybe I should call Shar and distract myself…
No, I can’t call her. She went home with my brother, and thoughts of whatever those two are doing right now isn’t a visual I need in my head.
Argh!
When the kettle flicks off, I pour the hot water over the tea bag into the mug and carry it back to my bedroom. I settle under the covers and power on the TV. I don’t know how long I spend flipping through Netflix before I give up and just throw on a feel-good Hallmark movie. Then I curl into the blankets and try not to think about how alone I feel right now, how I’d do anything for someone else to be here.
Not someone, him.
TWENTY-SEVEN
I didn’t want to let her walk up to her apartment alone. I was tempted to just sayfuck it,park my car, and follow her up there. Something is bothering her and I want to find out what the fuck it is so I can fix it for her.
And I plan to do just that as soon as I tie up the errands I had to run. And by errands, I mean removing some asshole’s fingers from his hands. I refuse to be known as someone who makes idle threats. Which is why I’m currently sitting in that asshole’s house waiting for him to come home. I look at the picture of his ID that I took. Andrew Harper. Age twenty.
