Page 72 of The Hermit

The meeting pauses when servers bring cold beverages and trays with finger foods.

Dominik leans into me and asks, “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine. It’s interesting to see it all come together.”

He presses a kiss to my temple, then whispers, “I’m proud of how you handled Ilias. You did very well.”

Receiving praise from him makes warmth burst in my heart and a smile form on my face.

Chapter 19

DOMINIK

During the trip back to Slovakia, I become more and more aggravated with the people around me.

I just want to get home so I can be alone with Grace.

When I shift in my seat and glare at Sef and Martin, who are playing cards, Grace takes hold of my jaw and turns my head toward her.

“You can’t fire a gun on the plane,” she reminds me.

“Is it that obvious?” I mutter.

“Yes.” She moves her hand down to my chest. “Try to focus on anything but the other people. Think about the island.”

“I’d rather think about you.” I rest my head against the seat and stare at her. “So you say you’re ready?”

Her eyes dart to mine, and she takes a little too long to reply, “Yeah.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

She glances out the window as she whispers, “I won’t know until we try.”

“Look at me,” I order.

Grace lets out a sigh before bringing her eyes back to mine. “This isn’t the time or place to talk about it.”

“They’re sitting too far away to hear us,” I say. I pick up her hand and lace my fingers through hers. “How do you want to test your theory?”

“I don’t know,” she mutters, clearly uncomfortable having this conversation with me.

To check how ready she is, I ask, “Which positions do you like?”

I watch as a blush creeps up her face, then her features tighten as she admits, “Just not from behind.”

I’m instantly hit with a need to destroy something. My tone is too harsh when I ask, “Is that what he did?”

Lowering her eyes, she looks at our joined hands while nodding.

That’s why she instantly had a panic attack when I grabbed her from behind the other day.

I’ll never make that mistake again.

“Is there anything else that’s a trigger for you?” I ask.

She leans in much closer until her face almost touches my chest, and her voice is so fucking fragile it takes a swing at my heart.

“The sound of a zipper and being restrained.”

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