Page 10 of Velvet Varnish
A giggle escapes me when he sits heavily on the couch, and I bounce on him. My hand stings a little, but I don’t care.
He apologises sheepishly and lies on his back, taking me with him. I stretch out on top of him and run a finger down his nose. His cheeks redden and I grin and kiss him. It isn’t the most elegant, but it quickly turns into wet heat when he groans and our tongues brush together. I pull away and kiss down his neck.
I straddle him, my legs spread wide and burning slightly from the stretch, but in the best way. The sting from my hand is in the back of my mind, and I tug his shirt up, baring his chest. He sits up slightly so I can pull it over his head. Biting my lip at what’s revealed, I trail my fingers across his chest to brush his nipples, causing him to inhale sharply. There’s coarse hair scattered across his chest that scrapes my hand deliciously. He rests his hands on my thighs, brushing circles over my jeans. His hair is mussed and dark against the couch, his chest rising and falling quickly.
I reach for my shirt. I want to feel his bare skin against mine, but he stiffens, his body turning to stone under me. My hands drop to his chest. “What is it?”
His eyes darken, jaw twitching. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” He sits up and deposits me beside him. He yanks his T-shirt on roughly.
“What? Why not?” I blink at him. The change is so immediate it gives me whiplash. My hands shake, and dread tightens my stomach.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.” The cut aches a little, but not enough for me to worry about when he’s here with his shirt off. Finally touching me.
“You aren’t. If you were fine, you wouldn’t have done that.” He gestures to the couch.
I frown, thoughts race through my mind, attempting to follow his meaning. “What has that got to do with anything?”
“You’ve had a traumatic evening.”
“So?” It felt pretty great until a few seconds ago.
“So, I don’t want you hurt even more.”
Is Dom saying he’ll hurt me? None of this makes sense. One minute everything’s fine, I’m finally going for it, and then he shoves me off him. “I’m confused.”
He stands and paces to the shelves. “I don’t think you’re in your right mind.”
“I’m not?” I ask, dumbfounded. Where is his train of thought taking him? I can barely keep up with what he’s saying.
“You need sleep and we can talk in the morning.”
I cross my arms. “Okay?” I don’t understand what’s happening. So I have a cut on my hand. Big deal. Granted, it was scary when it happened, but now I’m with him. In his home, and he’d been caring for me until a switch flipped.
“I’ll get something for you to wear.” He slides out of the room, preventing me from replying. He returns before I can gather my thoughts. After placing a soft looking black shirt on the side of the couch, he lets the couch separate us and grumbles, “Here. You can sleep in this.”
Comprehension of what happened makes its way through my brain.
I’ve been rejected. By Dominic.
I swallow past the tightness in my throat. “I don’t need it. I can go home.”
“You’re not going home.”
“And why not?” I growl. I didn’t realise how bossy he was.
“You need someone to stay with you after tonight. Make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. I’m not staying here, I’ll be fine at my flat. It’s only down the street.” I snatch my bag from the couch—he must have put it there. I don’t even remember taking it from the bar—and stride down the hall.
A hand grasps my arm firmly, but it doesn’t hurt. “I don’t want you alone tonight after what happened. Stay here so I can make sure you’re okay and in the morning you can leave. Please.”
I turn slowly to face him, my eyes suspiciously blurry. “I don’t want to take up your space.”
“You’re not. I just want to monitor your headache.”
He wants to monitor my headache. He doesn’t want me here. How does he even know I have a headache when I only noticed it a few minutes ago attempting to untangle everything? “Fine, but I’m leaving in the morning.”