Page 50 of Down Knot Out
Simon’s fingers curl around my wrist, a shackle I can’t escape. His breath skims my ear as he whispers unintelligible words. I try to wrench away, but my limbs are leaden, unresponsive.
Then suddenly I’m in the forest, and Louie is shouting through the darkness, my name poison in his mouth. I run, my feet catching on roots, lungs burning with each desperate breath, but the distance between us shrinks with every heartbeat.
“You belong to me,” Louie calls, closer now. “I own you!”
Simon steps out from behind a tree, seizing my arm with a grip that grinds into my bones. His limp hair falls across his face as he leans in. “You can’t escape who you are.”
The trees twist into grasping hands, branchescracking as they reach for me. I scream, but the sound gets swallowed by the night, consumed by the darkness from all sides. My lungs refuse to fill, each breath shallower than the last, drowning in the open air?—
I jolt upright, a ragged gasp tearing from my throat. Tears soak my cheeks and pool at the corners of my lips. My heart hammers, and my hair sticks to my face, damp with sweat.
The nightmare clings to me, and I’m now grateful Dominic insisted we plug in the nightlight. It casts just enough glow to reach every corner of the unfamiliar room. I clutch at the sheets, fingers twisting in the fabric as I struggle to slow my racing pulse.
“Chloe?” The mattress shifts as Dominic sits up, his hand finding the small of my back. “You’re safe. I’m here.”
In the dim light, I make out the concern on his face. His black hair hangs loose from its usual braid, falling in waves around his face.
“Bad dream?” His thumb traces small circles on my spine, each movement sending ripples of comfort through my trembling body.
“Yes,” I gasp out, my lungs still constricted, each breath a struggle.
“Come here.” He opens his arms in an invitation I can’t resist.
I lean into him, inhaling his citrus-and-musk pheromones, the scent of safety and home. My fingers curl over his bare chest, seeking his solid warmth. His heartbeat pulses beneath my cheek, steady and sure, the opposite of my frantic, scattered rhythm.
“Simon had me,” I whisper, my mouth close to his skin. “And Louie was hunting me through the woods. They knew who I was when I didn’t.”
Dominic’s arms tighten around me. “No one’s going to hurt you.” His chin rests on top of my head. “I won’t let them.”
One of his hands slides up to cradle the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair. The other remains at my lower back, holding me close.
“You’re safe.” His breath warms the top of my head. “It was just a dream.”
My breathing slows to match his, deep and even. The nightmare recedes, washed away by his presence. I lift my head, seeking a connection in the half-light.
Our eyes meet, an electric spark passes between us, and my skin tingles where we touch. Without thinking, I reach up to brush a strand of hair from his face, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
He catches my hand, turns it, and kisses mypalm. The touch sends a shiver through me, fear transforming into warmth and wanting.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Instead of answering, he leans down, his lips finding mine in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly blooms with urgency. My hands slide up to his shoulders, kneading the solid muscle beneath my fingertips. He tastes of sleep and mint toothpaste andDominic, making my head swim.
The pillow barrier I placed between us when we climbed into bed feels ridiculous now, an unnecessary boundary that keeps me from getting as close as I want to be. I pull back just long enough to push the pillows aside, then climb over to his side of the bed.
Before he can say anything, I recapture his mouth with mine. His hands grip my waist as I climb into his lap, grinding down on his hardening length through the thin barrier of underwear and boxers.
I rock on top of his cock, drawing a groan from his lips. His scent thickens, citrus notes sharpening with desire, the musk deepening until it surrounds me. My pheromones rise to meet his, lily and lilac twining with his to combine into something uniquely us.
His hands slide up my sides, bunching thefabric of my oversized sleep shirt. His thumbs brush the undersides of my breasts, and I arch into the touch, wanting more as the heat building between us chases away the last vestiges of my nightmare.
I reach between us, my fingers brushing the waistband of his boxers. I’m desperate to touch him, to hold the weight of him in my hand after all these years apart.
But Dominic’s hand captures my wrist, stopping my exploration. His chest rises and falls rapidly. “Wait, we shouldn’t.”
I freeze, reality crashing back, the doctor’s instructions echoing in my mind. No exertion, no excitement, nothing to aggravate his injury.
“I’m sorry.” Guilt floods me. “You’re not supposed to— I forgot?—”
