Page 35 of Down Knot Out
The wince doesn’t escape my notice. “You should take the painkillers the doctor prescribed.”
“They make me fuzzy. And we need to be ready when Kyle calls.”
I check my phone for the time. “Should be soon.”
“Good thing we have all the sequels to this in our theater room.” His fingers tickle the back of my neck. “Where there’s a loveseat.”
I poke him with the blunt end of my chopstick. “I see what you’re doing.”
He rolls his head toward me and gives me a puppy dog expression I’ve seen too often on Blake and Quinn’s faces. “But I’m injured. You need to keep me company.”
“Hmm, I’ll consider it.” I lean back to encourage his touch. “Now, watch the movie. It’s getting to the good part.”
But when the good part arrives, I can’t bring myself to focus on it. Dominic may think waiting is easy, but now that I’ve tasted him again, it’s going to be hard to resist doing it again.
Chapter Eleven
Dominic
Torture has never felt so sweet.
The weight of Chloe’s head rests on my shoulder, her pink hair tickling my neck, and a warm, damp spot grows on my shirt with each exhale.
I remain frozen in place, afraid that the slightest movement might wake her and end this borrowed moment of closeness.
My focus shifts to the decorative pillow barrier between us on the sofa. It digs into my hip, a crushed lump between us. Chloe wiggles in her sleep, halfway on my lap now and determined to be on top of me before the credits finish rolling on the movie we were watching.
The evening light filtering through her apartment windows casts everything in amber,softening the edges of her face. Her eyelashes cast tiny shadows on her cheeks, and I resist the urge to brush away a strand of pink hair that sticks to the corner of her mouth.
I glare at the pillow barrier between us.
Would it be overstepping to remove it? She’s already draped across me, a warm, sweet-smelling blanket. My fingers twitch with the need to hold her, to close the last bit of space that keeps us apart.
Her breathing changes rhythm, and she shifts, one hand curling into the fabric of my shirt. The movement draws her even closer, and my throat tightens. Even as children, Chloe always nodded off during movie nights, then gravitated toward me in her sleep. Before our families tore us apart. Before I let it happen.
The memory stings, my remorse deep for all the years lost because I didn’t stand up to my mother sooner. Because I chose the path of least resistance.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I extract it with surgical precision, careful not to disturb Chloe.
The screen lights up with a message.
Kyle
Boat won’t be ready until morning. Needed to order a part.
I send back a thumbs up, then stare at the text, a knot forming in my stomach.
We’ll have to stay the night, but will I have to leave this cozy apartment to sleep somewhere else?
The knot tightens.
I don’t want to leave, but the thought of imposing myself on Chloe’s space fills me with uncertainty. She may have kissed me, but I don’t want to presume that means everything is good between us again or that shetrustsme.
I should wake her. Let her decide if she wants me to stay or go.
She shifts again, her nose nuzzling into the crook of my neck. A soft snort escapes her, the sound so familiar that my chest aches with it. She used to do that as a kid, too. Deny she was falling asleep, then snort herself half-awake when her head dropped too suddenly.
Some things never change.
