Page 51 of Until You Break

“Then what?” he demands, leaning closer, his eyes boring into mine. “What the fuck is it, Aria? Because the way I see it, the only thing wrong here is that piece of shit making you question yourself. You think he knows you? Think he can give you what you need?”

“Maybe he’s right,” I say, my voice shaking. “Maybe I am messed up, Dominic. Maybe I—”

“Let me tell you something, and you’re going to listen carefully. There is nothing—nothing—wrong with what you want or what you like. You’re not hurting anyone with your preferences, and you don’t need fixing because you’renot. fucking. broken.”

I close my eyes, his words hitting me hard, unraveling the shame I’ve been drowning in. “He just doesn’t get it,” I whisper. “He doesn’t understand. He thinks… he thinks people who like being submissive are wrong and it’s degrading.”

“Then he’s a fucking idiot,” Dominic snaps, his voice full of venom. “You’re not broken, Aria. You’re just… real. You don’t hide from who you are, from what you need. And yeah, maybe it’s not ‘normal,’ but who the fuck wants normal anyway?”

I open my eyes, looking up at him, and for the first time, I see something raw and vulnerable beneath his anger. “You really believe that?”

“Of course I do,” he says, his voice softening. “You think I’d be here if I didn’t? What I do to you, what I feel for you, isn’t normal—and thank fuck for that. I don’t want normal. I want you. All ofyou. Every inch, every curve, every fucking part of you. And I’m not going to let some asshole make you feel bad for being who you are.”

The conviction in his voice, the way he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, makes something inside me crack. The tears come harder, and before I know it, I’m sobbing, my shoulders shaking as I bury my face in my hands.

“Hey,” Dominic says, his hands moving to my shoulders, steadying me. “Hey, don’t do that. Don’t cry over him. He’s not worth it.”

“It’s not him,” I manage between sobs. “It’s… everything. I feel so… so lost. Like I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

He lets out a soft sigh, his fingers brushing through my hair, soothing me in a way I didn’t know he was capable of. “You’re Aria,” he says simply. “You’re my Little Sinner. That’s all you need to know.”

I let out a shaky laugh, the sound almost a sob. “That’s not exactly comforting, Dominic.”

“Maybe not,” he says, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “But it’s the truth. And you’re going to learn to love it again.”

I tilt my head to the side looking confused for a second. “Why me, Dominic? You could literally stalk anyone else, any other woman, especially ones who aren’t big like I am. Why go for someone like…me?”

He glares at me and I nearly shrink away, but then I realize he’s not glaringat me… he’s just angry.

“You call it a flaw; I call it mine. That’s the difference between you and me, Little Sinner. Where you see something to hide, I see something to worship,” he says, taking my hand in his and kissing my wrist. “You’re so fucking perfect, you don’t even see it.”

I glance up at him, my tears still falling, but there’s something lighter now, something that feels like relief. “Dominic—”

“No, you listen to me right now. You’re soft, strong and irresistible. That’s what you’ve always been. Don’t ever apologize for the way you take up space in the world, Aria—because I’d burn it down just to make room for you.”

I swallow hard, my chest heaving as his words hit me like a tidal wave, crashing over every ounce of doubt and shame I’ve been carrying. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he says, his smirk widening into a grin. “Now let me take care of you, okay? Just this once, let me make you feel like you don’t have to fight.”

I nod again, closing my eyes, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself sink into the moment, into him and letting the storm inside me quiet just a little.

Chapter thirty-five

Her Ruin

The room is quietexcept for her soft, even breathing. She’s finally asleep, and I should feel some sense of victory, some pride in the way I’ve unraveled her walls piece by piece. But as I sit on the edge of the bed, looking down at her, all I feel is a gnawing ache in my chest.

Her wrists are red, the skin chafed where the ropes held her earlier. I’ve already rubbed ointment on them, even though she flinched in her sleep.

Tomorrow, she’ll feel it—the ache in her muscles, the sting at her wrists. She’ll wince every time she moves, and every time she does, she’ll think of me. Every mark she’ll wear tomorrow—they’re all mine.

I reach out, my fingers brushing the edge of the sheet where it’s draped over her shoulder. Her skin is soft, and for a second, I feel the pull again—the need to touch her, to take her, to remind her that she belongs to me.

But I don’t. Not now. Instead, I pull the sheet higher, covering her, tucking it around her like it’s enough to protect her from everything I’ve already done.

Her hair’s a mess, tangled and damp from the bath, her face flushed from exhaustion. She looks peaceful, but I know better. She’ll wake up tomorrow and fight me all over again, pretending she doesn’t want this, doesn’t want me. But she does. She always has.

She shifts in her sleep, murmuring something too soft to hear, and my eyes drop to her lips. They’re parted slightly, swollen from the way I kissed her, the way she kissed me back. And then, there’s the word she said earlier, the one that’s been replaying in my mind since it left her mouth.

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