Page 51 of His for Christmas
She nods slightly, acknowledging the truth of my observation. "I've been…processing. Trying to understand what exists between us and whether it's healthy or destructive."
"And your conclusions?" I ask, the question feeling weightier than any business negotiation I've ever conducted.
Instead of answering directly, she rises on tiptoe to kiss me again, her hands sliding up to curl around my neck, her body pressing closer to mine. I respond with carefully measured passion, my arms encircling her waist to support rather than possess, letting her set the pace and intensity.
The kiss deepens, her mouth opening under mine with a small sound of pleasure that sends heat coursing through me. My hands move to the zipper of her dress, pausing there in silent question. She nods against my lips, and I lower the zipper with deliberate slowness, savoring the reveal of her skin inch by inch.
When the dress pools at her feet, leaving her in only lace underwear and the emerald earrings, I step back slightly to look at her—not with the assessing gaze of ownership, but with genuine appreciation. "You are so beautiful," I tell her, my voice rough with desire. "Not just your body, though that's extraordinary. Everything about you—your mind, your talent, your compassion, your strength."
The words feel foreign on my tongue—not the practiced compliments I've offered other women, but raw truth that emerges from some place deeper than calculation or strategy. Holly's expression reflects surprise at the sincerity in my voice, followed by a softening that's more meaningful than any physical surrender.
"Show me," she whispers, reaching for me again. "Show me what exists between us beyond possession."
I lift her in my arms, carrying her to the bed with careful reverence rather than urgent passion. What follows is unlike any intimate encounter we've shared before—still intense, stillcharged with the electricity that's been present since our first meeting, but tempered now with a tenderness that transforms the experience from claiming to connecting.
I worship her body with hands and mouth, learning her responses with new attention, finding pleasure in her enjoyment rather than her submission. When I finally join our bodies, the physical connection feels like an extension of something deeper forming between us—not just desire, but understanding. Recognition. Acceptance.
Holly moves with me, her eyes open and fixed on mine, no barriers remaining between us. The vulnerability in her gaze matches something I feel opening within myself—a willingness to be seen completely, not just as the dominant, controlled man I present to the world, but as someone capable of tenderness, of genuine care beyond possession.
Afterward, she lies curled against my side, her head on my chest, my arm around her waist in a hold that's secure without confining. We're silent for several minutes, the quiet between us comfortable rather than tense.
"That felt different," she says finally, her voice soft in the firelit room.
"It was different," I agree, my fingers tracing patterns on her bare shoulder. "For me as well."
She props herself up on one elbow, studying my face with those perceptive brown eyes. "You're different," she observes. "Not fundamentally changed—you're still Dominic Sterling, still dominant and intense and occasionally terrifying."
I raise an eyebrow at this characterization, though I can't dispute its accuracy.
"But there's something else now," she continues, her free hand coming up to trace the line of my jaw. "Something that feels like…growth. Like you're making space for me to exist alongside you rather than beneath you."
The insight is startlingly accurate—a perfect articulation of the shift I've been attempting to make since our conversations in the library. "I'm trying," I tell her simply. "I can't promise perfection. Can't guarantee I won't revert to old patterns when feeling threatened. But Holly—" I capture her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "I want to be what you need without losing what made you want me in the first place."
Her eyes soften at this admission. "I never wanted you to be someone else, Dominic. Just to make room for me to be myself while loving you."
The word—loving—hangs in the air between us, neither fully acknowledged nor dismissed. It's the first time either of us has approached that territory, even obliquely.
"Stay tonight," I say quietly, not a command but a request. "And tomorrow night. And the night after."
A small smile curves her lips. "That sounds suspiciously like a multi-day plan, Mr. Sterling."
"I am known for my strategic thinking," I acknowledge, returning her smile with one of my own. "And my particular strategy currently involves keeping you in my bed as much as possible."
She laughs, the sound warming something in my chest. "Some things don't change."
"Nor should they," I reply, pulling her closer for another kiss. "Some aspects of my nature are non-negotiable."
Against my lips, I feel her smile. "I wouldn't want them to be," she murmurs. "Your intensity, your focus, your dominance—they're essential parts of who you are. I just needed to know there was space for who I am too."
As she settles against me again, her breathing gradually slowing toward sleep, I realize something profound: true intimacy isn't about possession or control. It's about creatingspace where two complete individuals can exist together, neither diminished by the other's presence.
It's a concept that would have seemed foreign to me just weeks ago. Now, with Holly warm and trusting in my arms, it feels like the most natural truth in the world.
Chapter
Thirteen
HOLLY
