Page 50 of Text Me, Take Me

When I walk into the studio to collect his cufflinks, I pause, looking down at the pieces. This feels like a turning point. I meant what I said back there; I want to pretend nothing else exists, just us, just tonight.

I’ve crossed a line. Somehow, I don’t feel like a prisoner anymore. I try to remember my ideals about not being manipulated, not succumbing to Stockholm Syndrome, but this doesn’t feel like that. This is something else. This is letting go, and it’s a relief I can’t quantify.

Dom is trying to be tough, trying to maintain his gruff exterior, but I know he needs me tonight. When he talked about the standoff at the cave, his voice was thick with emotion, probably more than he realized.

When I return to the kitchen, Dom has his back to me. The refrigerator door open. “How do you like your steak?”

“Are you going to cook for me?”

He gives me a wry look. “It’s the least I can do.”

“I like it well done.” He pulls a face, and I laugh. “I know that’s sacrilege. I can’t help it.”

“For you, I’ll make an exception.”

I approach him, my heart beating fast and hard. “I made you these today,” I say, offering him my cupped hand.

He takes the cufflinks, lifting them to the light, the delicate pieces looking tiny in his large paw-like hands. His eyes become boyish for a moment as he admires my work, the darkness draining away. “You’re so. Damn. Talented.”

A blush touches my cheeks. “I did my best.”

He carefully lays them on the counter, then grabs my waist and pulls me against him. “Seriously… one day, you’re going to have a successful business, making jewelry for the stars. I’m going to wear these tomorrow.”

I put my hand on his chest. His heart is pounding as hard and fast as mine. Maybe he knows that we’re crossing a line too, becoming something more than a prisoner and warden. “We don’t need to worry about the future, remember?”

Ignoring the guilty voice inside whispering this wasn’t part of the plan, I pull myself in for another kiss.

When dinner is almost ready, Dom smirks at me. “Wait here. I want this to be special.”

He leaves the room. Tingles dance over me when I replay the look in his eyes, his excited tone. This is a special night.Chemistry is a tricky thing, hard to define, something that goes beyond words and shared pain and even physical intimacy.

It’s the small moments, like watching him cook, the expressions he aims at me: conflicted, but making an effort… for me. It’s the fire in his voice when he says he wants to be nothing like his father.

He returns, wrapping his arms around me from behind, gently kissing my cheek… but with a clear undercurrent that he wants to go further.

“Meet me on the upstairs balcony,” he says. “I’ll bring our meals up.”

When I stand, his hand strokes over my body, down my hip, and over my ass. Lust mixes with romance and infuses me with that love-drunk sensation.

I gasp when I walk onto the balcony. He has lit candles everywhere; the table sitting in the middle, the clear sky blazing with jewel-like stars. Meatball leaps onto the nearest cat tree, purring contentedly. A bottle and two glasses are also on the table.

I sit at the table, looking up at the stars and letting myself simply exist in this moment. The stars are like precious pieces of metal on a sheet of black. The only thing in my life that usually makes it possible to forget about everything else is my craft, but here, now, I don’t think about what’s happened or what’s going to happen.

Meatball purrs at me, and I’m sure he’s smiling, because he knows how significant this is.

Soon, my man, my kidnapper, brings our meals onto the balcony. He sets them down and takes the bottle. “Champagne?” he asks.

“I’ll have a small glass.”

“Just a small glass for me too,” he replies.

“You don’t drink much?”

The cork pops and liquid gold gushes from the opening. As he pours, he says, “I rarely drink. It’s too tempting to use it to silence my demons, but my demons don’t deserve to be silenced.”

“Demons… from your time in the SEALs?”

He pours my glass, then raises his. “We don’t need to ruin the night by talking about that.”

---