Page 32 of Down Knot Out
I don’t.
Chapter Ten
Chloe
Itilt my chin up in invitation, and my eyelids flutter closed as Dominic draws nearer, the anticipation almost unbearable. His breath ghosts across my lips, warm and sweet, a whisper of contact that’s not quite a kiss.
As his mouth meets mine, the world narrows to this single point of connection.
His lips are soft, the pressure gentle as he tests the boundaries of this new territory between us. It’s a question, not a demand. A beginning, not a claiming.
My free hand, the one not still held in his grasp, lifts of its own accord, finding the solid warmth of his shoulder. His muscles tense beneath my touch, but he keeps the kiss light, restrained, giving me control over how far this goes.
I press closer, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He responds by releasing my wrist, his hand sliding up my arm to cup the back of my neck. The touch sends shivers down my spine, little sparks of electricity that pool in my belly.
The kiss deepens by degrees, his lips moving over mine with growing confidence as I respond. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open to him, allowing the kiss to transform from sweet to hungry in the space of a heartbeat.
I taste mint and something unique to him, a flavor I’d forgotten, and now wonder how I’ve lived without it. A sound escapes me, half sigh, half moan, and his smile forms against my mouth. The hand at my neck tightens, angling my head to fit his, sending fresh waves of sensation as his tongue twines with mine, exploring, tasting, remembering.
The towel I’d been using to mop up water slips from my fingers and falls to the floor. Everything beyond this moment—the spilled water, the food we’re waiting for, the complications of our situation—fades to insignificance.
There’s only Dominic’s mouth on mine, his hands holding me with a gentleness that contradicts the hunger in his kiss. Our pheromones mingle in the air around us, growing richer and more complex with each passing second.
I’ve been kissed before by him, years ago, but nothing has ever felt like this. Nothing has ever reached so deep, as if he’s kissing away all the hurt between us, kissing away the wounds left by our past.
When we pull apart, both breathless, his lashes stay lowered, shadows fanning the sharp lines of his cheekbones in the lamp’s glow. I keep my own eyes open, drinking in the sight of him so close.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you again,” he confesses, his voice rough.
I believe him. The truth is written in the tension of his shoulders, in the way he’s holding himself back even now. He wants more, much more, but he’s giving me space to decide how far this goes.
Traditional courting offers the chance for both of us—for Holden, Blake, and Nathaniel, too—to show our intentions before any binding Marks are made. But as his thumb traces the line of my jaw with exquisite care, I wonder how I’m supposed to think clearly enough to make any decisions at all.
His lashes flutter with uncertainty. “Chloe?”
I respond to his uncertainty by pressing my mouth to his once more, a briefer kiss, but no less meaningful.
When I pull back, his eyes open, heavy with hunger, and my heart stutters.
“That wasn’t a mistake,” I tell him, needing him to know. “I didn’t turn away this time.”
He smiles. “I noticed.”
The air between us crackles with years of unfulfilled desires.
He shifts, and the blanket slips on his lap, revealing the way his zipper strains over his hard cock.
His thumb strokes my jawline, urging my head backward as he leans in, planting another kiss, this time on the sensitive spot behind my ear. He inhales deeply, dragging my scent into his lungs. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you, too,” I confess, the words tumbling out now that I give myself permission to want him again. “Even when I hated you for turning your back on me, I missed you.”
Dominic catches my hand, entwining our fingers and pressing our palms together so our heart lines meet. “I’ll never turn my back on you again.”
The promise hangs between us, fragile and enormous.
I shift closer, rising higher on my knees, the last inches of distance evaporating. Our thighs touch, his slacks stiff against the soft fabric of my leggings.Even after all this time, my body remembers the slight tilt of his head when he’s about to kiss me.
And that’s what he does, his lips finding mine again, hungrier this time, with none of the gentle coaxing for permission. Now, his tongue sweeps in, claiming the deepest crevices of my mouth, tasting all of me.
