Page 53 of Until You Break

Whips, paddles, restraints, all arranged neatly, like they’re part of an art exhibit. For someone so rough around the edges, Dominic is clearly a neat freak. Even his chaos is organized.

The sound of the door creaking open snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts. My head jerks toward it just as Dominic strides in, radiating a confidence that grates on my nerves.

He’s shirtless, a pair of black sweats slung dangerously low on his hips, and for a moment, my brain stalls.

God, he’s everything I hate and everything my body can’t seem to resist. His torso is a patchwork of scars and tattoos, the black ink scrawled across his skin only accentuating the sharp cut of his muscles.

My gaze snags on his chest, where the faint gleam of silver catches the light. His nipples are pierced, the barbells glinting against his skin, and my stomach twists in ways I don’t want to examine. My mind conjures unwelcome thoughts about how they’d feel under my fingers or against my tongue.

He’s not just a man. He’s a weapon. Sin wrapped in muscle and steel.

I tear my eyes away, but it’s too late. He saw. His smirk says it all.

“Like what you see, Little Sinner?” he drawls. His body moves with the kind of predatory grace that has my stomach twisting into knots and he sets a tray of food down on the bedside table.

I stiffen, yanking the sheet up higher over my chest, even though I’m fully clothed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckles, low and smug. “Too late for that,” he says, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You can’t hide it, baby. You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” I snap, glaring at him even as my pulse hammers in my ears.

“The look that says you’re trying real hard to pretend you don’t want to tear these sweats off me with your teeth.”

“You’re delusional,” I say, my voice shaking slightly, betraying me. “Get over yourself.”

“Am I?” he asks, leaning down so his face is level with mine, his lips inches away. “You’re still staring, though.”

“I’m not—” I start, but the words catch in my throat as he straightens up and leans back slightly, stretching his arms over his head.

My gaze betrays me again, trailing down his torso to the sharp V of his hips, the faint trail of hair disappearing under the waistband of his sweats. My stomach twists again, and I hate myself for the heat pooling low in my belly.

I snap my gaze back to his face, furious with myself for falling into his trap, and his grin only deepens.

“See?” he says, his voice smug. “You can’t help yourself.”

“Don’t you have something better to do?” I hiss, crossing my arms over my chest. “Like torment someone else?”

He shakes his head, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Nope,” he says, his voice muffled slightly. “You’re my favorite pastime, Little Sinner.”

I glare up at him and he laughs and the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s holding back more taunts. Instead, he sitsdown on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he looks at me

“Hungry?” he asks, his tone casual, almost mocking.

I shake my head, my stomach twisting with too many emotions to name. “I don’t want anything from you.”

He tilts his head, studying me like I’m a puzzle he’s already halfway solved. “Suit yourself,” he says, picking up a piece of fruit from the tray. He pops it into his mouth, his tongue darting out briefly, and I can’t help but stare at the piercing glinting as it moves.

“Jesus, Dominic,” I mutter, dragging my gaze away.

He chuckles again, leaning closer, his scent flooding my senses. “Careful, baby. You’re not supposed to use His name in vain.”

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the way his proximity sets my nerves on fire. “Do you always have to be such an ass?”

“Only with you,” he replies smoothly, his smirk returning as he picks up another piece of fruit and holds it out to me. “Come on, eat something.”

“I said I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t be difficult, Aria,” he says, his voice softening slightly, though the edge never leaves it “Unless you want me to feed you.”

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