Page 49 of Ruined

He picked up the razor. “It’s an art. You’ve got to respect it, or it’ll bite you.”

I watched, fascinated by the blade gliding over his skin. The way Dominic held the blade to his own throat captivated me for some reason.

Dominic wiped his face. “You’re next.”

“You want to shave me?”

“Why not?” he said, smiling.

The idea of Dominic holding a razor to my throat tore at my insides. He didn’t have any clothes on, for fuck’s sake. Beyond inappropriate.

“I don’t think so,” I grunted.

“Come on. You could use a little refinement.”

Dominic turned, a wicked glint in his eyes. He dipped his fingers into the cream as he approached me. I backed against the counter, but he didn’t stop until his body pressed against mine.

“Dom.”

He smeared cream onto my jaw. He traced the cold foam along my throat. Then he picked up the straight razor, flicking it open.

My breathing hitched.

He tilted my chin up with two fingers. “Nervous?”

I swallowed hard. “Should I be?”

A dark thrill settled in my chest as the razor paused, inches from my skin. His thumb pressed against my jaw, tilting my head to the side. “You know, I’ve always thought trust is earned. But here you are, putting your life in my hands.”

The blade touched my throat.

I forgot to breathe.

The steel glided so close I felt every scrape. My chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, but Dominic was in no rush. His thumb stayed pressed against my jaw.

He didn’t speak. Somehow, that made it worse. Each stroke of the razor pulled my focus tighter. Nothing existed except Dominic’s hands, the blade, his breath against my face.

“Relax. I’ve got you.”

His voice slid over me like silk.

I glanced at my reflection. Wide eyes and flushed cheeks. Breathing fast while Dominic leaned in, calm as ever. Cold steel, warm fingers. The blade skimmed under my jaw. I swallowed, the movement making the razor press harder against my skin.

His free hand moved to my shoulder, his thumb brushing my collarbone. His touch lingered, and I closed my eyes.

Keep touching me.

The blade’s edge moved away, leaving my skin tingling. I exhaled roughly. My body refused to relax.

Dominic grabbed a hand towel and turned back to me. The soft cloth dragged across my throat, wiping away the leftover cream. He stepped back, tossing the towel onto the counter.

“See? It looks good.”

I examined myself in the mirror. My jaw was sharper. I looked cleaner, like a man who belonged in Dominic’s world of pressed suits and slick smiles.

Dominic leaned against the counter. “Told you it’d suit you.”

“Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it.”