Page 53 of The Ecstasy of Sin
Quickly wiping away the water cascading over my eyes, I turn around to find the source of whatever is blocking out the light, only to be met with green eyes blazing like a dark inferno.
A choked, startled noise slips from my mouth, but Dominic’s hand is already there, slamming over my lips like a cage to suppress the noise.
He steps under the spray without hesitation, his soaked body pressing me back against the wall as he wedges one of his legs between mine, anchoring me to him.
The heavy fabric of his cargo pants grinds up between my thighs, brushing mercilessly against my clit, and I gasp at the sensation, the sound muffled beneath his palm.
Fear wraps my heart in its fist as I cry out, the sound held captive by Dominic’s unyielding hand. He leans in, slow and deliberate, his broad frame blotting out everything but him. His other arm lifts, bracing against the wall beside my head, the thick line of his forearm trapping me.
His presence is overwhelming as he surrounds me—he’s the epitome of control, intensity, and the promise of violence.
His scent cuts through the thick veil of steam, masculine and clean, and makes me feel all the more vulnerable. He’s somuch bigger than me, and having seen what kind of damage he can do with his hands, I know he could kill me and there would be nothing I could do to stop him.
His head lowers beside mine, and he places the softest kiss to the shell of my ear. The contrast of what I expect versus what he does is staggering. How can someone that has taken the life of another with his bare hands touch me like I’m fragile, and he doesn’t want to break me?
When he finally speaks, it’s a low rumble against my ear. My body shudders at the pleasure of the sound. “If you scream, I’ll kill whoever enters this room. Nod if you understand me, little lamb.”
I nod, my heart thundering in my chest.
He drops his hand from my mouth, but he doesn’t give me any space. He’s crowding me, like he’s been biding his time until he could touch me like this, and the rush of being this close is intoxicating.
His entire body feels like a cage that surrounds me, the water pouring down his broad shoulders and soaking every inch of the black that clings to him like a second skin.
His shirt molds to his chest—every brutal muscle defined like he was carved in marble by an artist who worshipped him in the way a sinner drops to their knees for their dark god.
Here I am, completely naked, and totally at his mercy.
“How do you keep finding me?”
His eyes drop to my mouth when I speak, seemingly mesmerized by my voice. The hand that once silenced me lifts, his fingers brushing along my lower lip. He touches me reverently, histhumb pulling down gently until my lip slips free and bounces back into place.
He doesn’t answer me.
Instead, he leans in again, and I hold my breath as his mouth hovers above mine. His leg shifts between my thighs, drawing a breathy gasp from me as a sinfully sweet heat ignites at the core of my body and gathers low.
The sound I made provokes him, and he captures it with his mouth in a devastatingly sensual kiss. His lips move against mine, his tongue sweeping along my lower lip, demanding that I open myself up and let him in.
And I do, against my better judgment, because Dominic is the devil—the kind of temptation that made the other angels fall from heaven and join him in sin.
He claims my mouth, his tongue dancing across mine as one arm snakes around my waist to pull my body flush against his. He’s massive—solid muscle and ruthless power—everything I’m not.
It feels intoxicating, having him press my soft, curvy body to his. I’ve never felt desirable before, not with thick thighs, stretch marks, and a slightly rounded belly… but when he touches me like this, I feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
I sink into shameless need as his drugging kiss steals the good sense from my mind, making me feel feverish as the heat of him floods me. Like my body has forgotten what cold even feels like.
When he finally pulls back, releasing me from his deep and worshipful kiss, I’m a trembling mess.
His eyes are heavy-lidded, like he’s drunk on something far more dangerous than just lust. Madness gleams in their depths, wild and possessive, and he’s not even trying to shield me from it all.
“You can’t be here,” I whisper breathlessly, staring up at him like he might swallow me whole.
His forearm, still braced against the tile beside my head, finally lowers. His hand shifts to collar my throat gently, his thumb stroking my frantic pulse in a gesture that feels strangely soothing. “And who’s going to stop me?”
He’s so domineering, and it’s surprisingly attractive.
“Me,” I whisper, my voice so quiet I’m not even sure he hears me over the noise of the shower.
A slow grin curves his mouth, possessive and salacious. Then his body shifts, and the thigh that had been pressed tight between my legs withdraws.
