Page 51 of Down Knot Out
He shakes his head, wincing at the movement. “It’s not that.”
“But you’re hurt,” I protest, starting to pull away. “We shouldn’t?—”
His hands tighten on my waist, keeping me where I am. “I’m not stopping you because of the head injury.”
Confusion replaces guilt, and I search his face, trying to understand. “Then why? Don’t you… Don’t you want me?”
The laugh that escapes him borders on pain. “Want you? God, Chloe, I’ve never stopped wanting you. Not for a single day.”
“Then why?—”
He cuts me off with a brief, fierce kiss before pulling back. “Because you just woke up from a nightmare. Because you’re scared and vulnerable right now.” His fingers brush my cheek, wiping away tears I hadn’t realized were falling again. “I don’t want you to do this because you’re scared. I don’t want to take advantage.”
The words ring through me, not because they hurt, but because they’re so Dominic. Even now, with desire evident in every line of his body, he’s putting my well-being first.
“Dominic.” I rest my forehead to his. “My Alpha.”
His breath catches, a shudder running through him beneath me.
“I need you.” Urgency rushes through me. “Not because I’m scared, but because I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”
He groans, his fingers on my bare waist flexing.
“You’re not taking advantage,” I reassure, my lips brushing his, the warmth of our breath mingling. “I want this. I wantyou.” I rise to kiss hisforehead and his temple. “But I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
My chest constricts at the thought of causing him more pain, but the desire that blows his pupils begs me not to stop.
“Lie back.” I flatten my palm over his chest. “Let me take care of you.”
Dominic hesitates, searching my face. “Chloe?—”
“Shh.” I push him back until he rests on the pillows, his black hair fanning out around his face. In the dim light, he’s all sharp angles and shadows, the planes of his face both familiar and new. “Just relax. Doctor’s orders.”
His tongue skims his bottom lip. “I don’t think the doctor ordered this.”
I slide my hands down his chest, the steady beat of his heart thumping beneath my palm. “Then consider it my prescription.”
I trace a finger over the hard ridges of his abdomen above his boxers, watching goose bumps rise in its wake. The citrus notes in his scent sharpen with each touch, musk deepening until it surrounds us both.
I bend to kiss his stomach, and the muscles contract into hard ridges. His skin burns beneathmy lips, almost feverish. My hands slide lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers. His breath hitches, the sound sending a thrill through me.
Slowly, I move down his body, trailing kisses over his ribs, across his stomach, and down to the sensitive skin below his navel. His scent grows stronger here, and my head swims. I nuzzle the trail of dark hair that disappears beneath his boxers, inhaling deeply.
My lips brush the outline of his erection through the thin fabric, and his hips buck upward, seeking more contact. His fingers tangle in my hair, not pulling, just holding. I look up the length of his body to find him watching me, his expression a mix of desire and vulnerability.
“Chloe,” he says, my name hoarse. “What are you doing?”
I kiss his cloth-covered length again. “You did this for me last time,” I remind him, thinking of his head between my thighs, and how he’d unraveled me so completely. “It’s only fair I return the favor.”
I hook my fingers into his waistband again. “Just lie back and enjoy it.”
His hand catches mine, stopping me. “I don’t want that.”
The words freeze my desire, and I pull back, confusion and hurt coursing through me. “You don’t want…?”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” He reaches for me. “I don’t want a relationship built on expected reciprocation. I don’t want you to do this because you think you owe me.”
Understanding dawns, warm and sweet in my chest. Even now, he’s worried about me, about whether I’m acting from obligation rather than desire.
