Page 32 of His for Christmas
Understanding dawns in her expression. "This is about Mark? Dominic, I told you, that was purely professional?—"
"I don't care what it was for you," I interrupt, my voice low and intense. "I care what it was for him. What it looked like to him. What he was thinking when he stood so close to you, when he touched your arm, when he looked at your mouth instead of your eyes."
I back her against the wall, one hand braced beside her head, the other still firm on her waist. "I wanted to tear his hand off when he touched you," I admit, the confession raw and honest. "I've never felt that before. Never wanted to destroy someone simply for looking at something that belongs to me."
Instead of being offended by my possessiveness, Holly's pupils dilate, her breathing quickening. "I don't belong to anyone," she protests, but there's no conviction in her voice.
"You belong to me," I contradict, my lips moving to her neck, finding the pulse point that beats rapidly beneath my mouth. "Every inch of you. Every thought. Every desire. Every response." I emphasize each statement with a kiss against her skin, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. "Say it, Holly."
She swallows hard, her hands fisting in the fabric of my suit jacket. "This is crazy," she whispers. "We've known each other less than two weeks."
"Say it," I repeat, my teeth grazing her earlobe, drawing a small gasp from her. "Tell me who you belong to."
"You," she admits finally, the word a surrender and an affirmation at once. "God help me, I belong to you, Dominic."
Victory surges through me, hot and sweet. I capture her mouth again, the kiss deep and thorough, my tongue claiming hers as my body presses her more firmly against the wall. Her hands slide inside my jacket, clutching at my shirt, pulling me closer as if she can't bear any space between us.
"No one touches what's mine," I murmur against her lips when I finally break the kiss. "No one looks at you the way I do. No one makes you respond the way I do." My hand slides beneath her sweater, finding warm skin, feeling her tremble at my touch. "Tell me I'm right, Holly."
"You're right," she gasps as my fingers trace the underside of her breast through her bra. "No one else makes me feel this way."
"And how do I make you feel?" I need to hear it, need her to articulate what I can feel in her body's responses.
"Like I'm burning from the inside out," she confesses, her head falling back against the wall as my thumb circles her nipple through the lace. "Like I'd do anything you asked. Like nothing exists outside of this moment, outside of you."
Her honesty is intoxicating, more powerful than any physical response. I reward it with another kiss, softer this time, a contrast to the possessive intensity of moments before.
"When I saw him standing so close to you," I say against her mouth, "all I could think about was how your body arched under mine last night. How you gasped my name when I was inside you. How completely you surrendered to me." My hand slides from her breast down to her hip, fingers digging in possessively. "I wanted him to know. I wanted everyone to know that you're mine in every way that matters."
"Dominic," she whispers, my name a plea though for what, I'm not entirely sure.
I ease back slightly, giving her space to breathe while maintaining my hold on her. "I'm not apologizing," I tell her, needing her to understand. "Not for how I feel. Not for what I want from you."
To my surprise, she laughs softly, the sound breaking the tension between us. "I wouldn't believe an apology anyway," she says, her hands smoothing my lapels where she'd clutched them. "It's not in your nature to apologize for taking what you want."
The insight startles me—this evidence that she sees me so clearly after such a short time. "No," I agree, "it's not."
She reaches up, her hand cupping my cheek in a gesture that feels unexpectedly tender after the possessive heat of moments before. "But Dominic," she says, her eyes holding mine, "you don't need to stake your claim quite so aggressively. I'm already here. Already with you. Already in your bed every night."
"For now," I acknowledge, turning my head to press a kiss to her palm. "But I want more than 'for now,' Holly. I want forever."
The word hangs between us, more significant than any declaration I've made before. Her eyes widen slightly, surprised by the intensity of my claim.
"Forever is a long time," she says carefully. "Especially for two people who barely know each other."
"I know all I need to know," I counter with absolute certainty. "The rest is just details we'll discover together."
She shakes her head, bemused by my confidence yet not rejecting the sentiment outright. "We should get back to work," she says finally, bending to retrieve her abandoned tablet. "I have a dozen decisions waiting for my attention, and you must have actual business to attend to besides terrorizing lighting specialists."
I step back, allowing her to move away from the wall, though my hand lingers on her waist. "Your work is my business," I remind her. "Everything about you is my business now."
She straightens her sweater, attempting to look professional despite her thoroughly kissed lips and flushed cheeks. "We'll see about that," she says with a hint of challenge that delights rather than angers me. "Some parts of me still belong exclusively to me, Dominic Sterling."
I open the door, gesturing for her to precede me back into the hallway. "For now," I concede with a smile that makes her blush deepen. "But I'm a patient man when the prize is worth the wait."
As she walks past me, I lean close to whisper in her ear: "And you, Holly Parker, are worth everything."
The library fireplace has been burning for an hour, warming the room to the perfect temperature. I've dismissed the staff from this wing of the house for the afternoon, citing a need for privacy to review sensitive business documents. Patricia raised an eyebrow but asked no questions when I instructed her toensure Holly's schedule was clear after lunch. The acquisition paperwork from Berlin sits on my desk, still untouched. There are empires to be built, deals to be closed, but for the first time in my adult life, business feels secondary to something else—to someone else.
