Page 36 of The Butcher's Wife
“No.” I scream and sob, kicking with my free leg as hard as I can and driving my nails into the bed sheets to claw for purchase. “No. No!”
The man grabs both my legs and pulls me against him, presses me against his chest, and?—
It’s Dom.
He’s saying something. His hands move across my back, searching. I choke out a sob, curling myself into him.
“Do I need to call the doctor?” he asks. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
I suck in a deep breath, and his scent coats my insides like a warm vapor, calming me. I press my face against his furred chest. I’m sitting in his lap, my legs on the top of his thighs, and his belly against my body. His arms band against my back, making me feel, for a moment, safer than I’ve ever felt.
I shudder out a sigh. “I’m okay.”
I nestle deeper into his chest and wrap my arms as far as I can around his waist. He’s so strong andwarm.
His cock, not entirely soft, presses into the bottom of my thigh through the fabric of his boxers, his only piece of clothing. I shift my leg to grind into it, but at the same time, Dom clears his throat and slides me onto the bed. He kneels on the floor like he’s going to say his prayers, hiding his lower half behind the bed.
“What was that?” he asks. Since when does he wearglasses? The unfamiliar black frames lend an air of sharp sophistication to his features.
“A bad dream.”
I like the way he’s watching me, like I’m taking up all his awareness. Already, the terror of the dream is being chased to the dark recesses of my mind.
“About what?” Dom leans in slightly.
For all my fears and hesitancies, the big man before me doesn’t scare me. I wish I were on his lap again, wrapped in pine and smoke as I press my face against his chest.
“Bad things,” I murmur.
Dom huffs an angry laugh, shaking his head. “That wasn’t your run-of-the-mill bad dream. You were shouting ‘stop.’ Did someone hurt you? Who did that to you?”
I skate my gaze down Dom’s form. When will I get another chance like this? His broad chest and arms are on full display. I lean forward. Would he let me touch him if I didn’t say a word? We could pretend it was a secret.
“You have something to tell me?” His voice strokes against my body, still thrumming from the emotion of the dream.
I suck in a breath and lean back on the bed. “No one hurt me, husband.”
Dom’s mouth twitches athusband, and I wait for him to storm off, but he stays.
“Tell me,” he says in a quiet, deadly voice.
I’m not sure if we’re still talking about my dream.
“Since when do you wear glasses?” It’s half-distraction, half-burning curiosity. I thought I knew everything about Dom, but he keeps surprising me.
“I need them to read.”
“What were you reading?”
He exhales. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yeah, I would.” I reach toward his waist, but he rises in one fluid motion, treating me to an eyeful of the bulge in his boxers and his thick, muscular thighs.
“You let me know if you remember anything relevant.”
He strides out of the room, his muscular ass filling his boxers.
My mouth is dry as I call out to him. “Goodnight.”
