Page 80 of The Ecstasy of Sin
My eyes flick to his. “You’re very bossy,” I murmur, turning just enough to meet his gaze.
He nods, then presses the syrup-soaked toast gently against my lips. I open for him, and he slides the perfect mouthful onto my tongue.
I groan over the explosion of flavour. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a fresh, home-cooked meal, but this may just be the most amazing thing I’ve ever tasted.
I savor the bite, chewing thoroughly, then swallowing before I speak. “This is incredible.”
He smiles at me, a glint of pride in his eyes. “I’m glad you like it.”
I watch as he gathers another bite onto the tines of the fork, then feeds it to me, his eyes focused on my lips. While I eat, he cracks open the protein shake and drinks.
“You’re an amazing cook. Did you make meals like this for your brothers growing up?” I ask, eyeing him closely. He stills for a moment, then swallows and sets the bottle down.
He feeds me another bite, and only answers my question when I’m chewing again.
“Some nights we didn’t eat unless I went downstairs and cooked after our foster parents passed out.”
My heart aches. I know the pain of starvation all too well, especially as a teenager. For me, it came with so much shame and sadness.
When I went days without meals, because my dad couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed, I often blamed myself. If I were better, or smarter, or worthy enough, maybe then he’d remember that I existed, and needed food to survive.
I push away the thought, suppressing the feelings of misery that threaten to distract me from learning about Dominic’s history. “Did they treat you well? Your foster family, I mean.”
He shakes his head without hesitation. Most people wouldn’t be able to speak about their abusive childhood, but Dominic seems so composed as he opens up to me.
“What happened?” My voice is soft, nearly a whisper.
His gaze lifts away from the plate, meeting mine. “Our foster dad was an abusive, alcoholic asshole. Our foster mother… she was a sick, perverted bitch that also liked to hurt us when she was high on prescription drugs.” He pauses. “Torin always got the worst of it.”
I picture Torin in my mind, his body like a battlefield of all that he’s survived. Every scar is part of a map of the abuse he suffered at the hands of the people who should have been protecting him. “That’s terrible,” I whisper. “No wonder you guys are so close.”
He nods. “We are. Maybe too close.”
He feeds me another fork full of French toast, the sweet syrup tasting like absolute heaven. “Too close? What do you mean?”
“You’ll see.” He smirks. “Just don’t walk around naked. You’ll probably find them in a pile on the couch most nights. I can’t bring myself to kick them out.”
I offer him a soft smile. Their relationship is beautiful, especially considering the ugliness of their childhood. “You’re a good big brother.”
He doesn’t answer. Just spears another piece of toast and lifts it toward my mouth.
I shake my head, pressing my hand to my belly. “Thank you, but I’m full.”
He shakes his head right back. “A few more bites.”
I sigh, but I open my mouth for him again. I’m patient while he feeds me. Once he’s satisfied that I’ve had enough, he finishes what’s left on the plate.
I try to slide off of his lap to sit back in my own seat, so he can finish his meal in peace, but his grip on me tightens the moment I shift.
I’m learning quickly that Dominic’s love language is physical touch.
I stop trying to move. I think about all he’s shared with me today, while he finishes the French toast and washes it down with the last of his protein shake.
There’s a lot of darkness in Dominic, there’s no denying that. But there are parts of him that are beautiful, too.
He’s enigmatic, and complicated. And while there is still so much I don’t know about him, I find myself helplessly lost in his orbit. He’s magnetic.
The loyalty he has shown his brothers is something you only read about in fairy tales. They trust him, probably with their lives, and that tells me a lot about who he is beneath his intimidating exterior.
