36
The sound of cloud grumbling was what awakened me. I was twisted in the sheet, my body naked beneath the quilt, and my hair splayed around like spider legs over the pillow. With my eyes still closed, I felt for the body of Dominic on the bed next to me. Tapping in search of him, but he didn't seem to be available and in my arm's reach.
I opened my eyes. The room was almost dark safe the weak evening rays that was shedding in from the only open window in the room. The thick curtains with flower imprints and designs were parted, giving way for the setting sun rays to reflect onto the dark marble tiles of the room. It seemed to be almost raining outside because of the lazy grumbles the sky gave. Weak breeze from the only window open in the room brought along the fresh smell of cut grass.
And apart from the occasional grumbles and groans of the sky, the room was silent. I sat up in bed and stretched, my arms over my head and my mouth splitting in a lazy yawn. When I looked down, and realized that beneath the sheet I was naked, I was almost taken aback if not for flashes that instantly filled my head.
The flashes came in sharp bursts, like shards of broken glass piecing themselves together in my mind. Dominic’s hands on my skin, his lips trailing fire down my neck, the weight of his body pressing into mine—it all came rushing back, scattering the haze of sleep like leaves in the wind. My cheeks burned at the memory, and a small, involuntary shiver danced down my spine.
I pulled the sheet closer, clutching it to my chest as I glanced around the room, suddenly feeling exposed despite being alone. Dominic's absence gnawed at me, though I couldn’t decide if it was irritation or unease that churned in my stomach.
The air had that peculiar heaviness that comes before a storm, and the fading sunlight painted the walls in hues of muted orange and shadow. It struck me then how much I didn’t know about this place—or even about Dominic. We had stumbled into this whirlwind, and now I was here, tangled up in something that felt as raw as it was confusing.
The sound of a door creaking in the distance caught my attention, jolting me out of my thoughts. I froze, straining to hear over the distant grumbling of the sky. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, and coming closer. My breath hitched as I reached for the nearest piece of clothing—a discarded shirt that wasn’t mine—and clasped it to my chest. It smelled faintly of him, of cedar and smoke, oddly grounding me.
The footsteps stopped just outside the room. The handle of the door twitched, and I held my breath, my fingers gripping the edge of the sheet like it was a lifeline.
The door creaked open slowly, revealing Dominic’s silhouette against the dim hallway light. His broad shoulders filled the frame, and his tousled hair fell slightly into his face. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose jeans that hung low on his hips. His piercing eyes found mine immediately, glinting with an intensity that made me forget how to breathe.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and edged with something I couldn’t quite place. Relief? Concern? I couldn’t tell.
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Where were you?” My voice came out softer than I intended, the vulnerability catching me off guard.
“Needed some air,” he said simply, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. He carried with him the scent of rain, the dampness clinging faintly to his skin. “I didn’t want to wake you. You looked... peaceful.”
I blinked, unsure how to respond. The Dominic I had known—or thought I’d known—was all sharp edges and impenetrable walls. Yet here he was, looking at me with a softness that made my chest ache.
“You should’ve woken me,” I said quietly, pulling the sheet tighter around myself. “I don’t enjoy waking up alone.”
He hesitated, his jaw tightening as if my words had struck a nerve. “I’m here now,” he said finally, his voice quieter, almost gentle.
Dominic crossed the room, each step deliberate. He stopped at the edge of the bed, towering over me. His gaze swept over me, lingering on the shirt I clutched to my chest. It was his, and the corner of his mouth twitched, almost as if he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite bring himself to.
“I had some things to think about,” he admitted, his hand reaching out to brush a stray strand from my face. The touch was light, almost hesitant, and it sent a ripple of warmth through me. “But I’m not going anywhere unless you want to go with me?”
“Where?”
“There’s a lake in the woods. I enjoy skinny dipping while it rains. You remember, don’t you? Skinny dipping in an icy cold pool during Christmas, fucking, stifling your moans with kisses so your dad wouldn’t hear and come running across the estate.”
His words sent a jolt through me, a mixture of heat and unease pooling in my chest. Memories rushed forward, unbidden and sharp. Dad’s estate, the sprawling mansion surrounded by manicured gardens, its pristine perfection hiding the chaos and danger that always lurked beneath. I remembered the thrill of it—the wildness, the recklessness, and the way Dominic had made me feel alive in a way I’d never known before. But with those memories came the bitter sting of guilt and fear.
“You shouldn’t bring him up,” I said, my voice low, almost a whisper. My fingers tightened around the sheet, as if it could shield me from the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. “Not like that.”
Dominic’s expression shifted, the teasing edge replaced by something darker, more serious. “Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it? That’s who we were—who you were before everything fell apart.”
I shook my head, my braids brushing against my shoulders. “That’s not fair, Dominic. That was a different time, a different—” I broke off, unable to finish. The weight of the past pressed down on me, suffocating.
He crouched down so we were eye-level, his piercing gaze holding mine captive. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see how much you’ve changed? But that doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend those moments didn’t happen. You’re still you, no matter how much you try to hide it.”
I looked away, staring at the rain streaking down the window, blurring the view of the world outside. “Why are you bringing this up now?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Why now, Dominic?”
He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek. “Because you’re not living,” he said softly, almost sadly. “You’re surviving, sure. But you’re not living. And I can’t stand to see you like this.”
His words hung in the air, a challenge, a promise, and a plea all at once. My heart thudded in response, a mixture of apprehension and yearning tightening my throat. When I finally looked up at him, Dominic’s eyes were steady, unwavering, as though he could see right through the fragile walls I’d built around myself.
"Then make me live," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the deepening rumble of thunder.
A slow smile crept across his face, full of something that felt both comforting and dangerous. Without a word, he extended his hand. I hesitated for a moment, the cool sheet and shirt slipping further down my body as I moved, exposing more of my bare skin to the cool evening air. His hand remained steady, patient, waiting. Finally, I slid mine into his, and his fingers closed around mine, warm and firm.
“One step at a time,” he murmured, pulling me to my feet. The sheet fell away completely, and though I was exposed, I felt no shame. Dominic’s eyes didn’t wander; they stayed locked on mine as though anchoring me to him.
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