Page 3 of Filthy Dirty Dom

He knew they were tears of pleasure and not fear or sadness. But as he stared at her satiated face, at how thoroughly ruined she looked, he had a sudden image of doing so much more to her. He reached out to fist his hand in her hair so he could make her deep throat his cock. Then he imagined putting nipple clamps on her. Flogging her. Tying her to a bondage cross in his favorite sex club so everyone could see her beg for him and know she was his completely…

He froze in the act of reaching for her.

She had been delicious. Her warmth surrounded him and he wanted to stay in her light. He wanted more, but it would be so much more than what they just did. Too much.

This was Leslie. His best friend’s little sister.

What the fuck was he doing?

The familiar guilt and regret shot through him, just like it shot through him now, in his home, with Leslie lying next to him in bed.

Alex shifted, aware that a thin film of perspiration now covered his brow, Alex unclenched his white-knuckled fingers from the bedsheet and willed himself to regain control. Taking several deep breaths, he focused on the rhythm of his inhales and exhales, letting the air fill his lungs and centering himself in the present moment. Slowly, the vibrant colors and pulsing sensations began to recede, and he felt his heartbeat steady.

It was only then that he looked at Leslie. Instead of further overwhelming him, seeing her lying fully dressed beside him brought clarity.

He'd done a job last night. Rescued Lucy, a young woman who was being held hostage by her stepfather, Ed Pearson, a prominent federal judge. In the process, he’d had to fight off Pearson’s men, earning himself a broken rib and a bruised kidney. After he’d been treated, he’d come home, visited with his friend, bodyguard Luke Calloway, and downed his fair share of whiskey. Then Leslie had shown up, checking up on him. He must have passed out and Leslie, even after he’d told her in no uncertain terms they couldn’t be more than friends, had stayed. He should be pissed, but he didn’t have it in him.

She looked as gorgeous as ever, her dark hair cascading gently over her fair skin, creating a striking contrast that mesmerized him. Her features were delicate but sharp, her body petite but with curves in all the right places. Even in the dim light of the room, her beauty radiated, illuminating the space around them.

He wanted her. Not just her body, but all of her. Her intelligence was captivating, showcasing a thirst for knowledge and an inquisitive mind. Her humor was infectious, capable of lighting up even the darkest moments with her contagious laughter. Wit came naturally to her, and her quick retorts never failed to catch him off guard and leave him smiling. She was a true artist, her fashion designs innovative and chic and a little wild. But what truly stole his heart was her loyalty, the unwavering support she offered her family and friends, including Alex. Her kindness knew no bounds, and she had an innate ability to see the good in people, even when they faltered. With Leslie, he felt a sense of belonging, a deep connection that made him feel whole instead of hollow—the way he felt most of the time.

He was just damn good at hiding it.

He didn’t want to let his connection to Leslie go, despite his resolve not to completely make her his. Which was why, now that they’d gotten past some difficult moments and she’d agreed to remain friends, he was thankful. He’d always regret not being able to claim all of her, the way a lover or husband would, but at least he’d still be able to enjoy the light of her friendship on occasion.

You shouldn’t even allow yourself that.

You don’t deserve it, and being in her life, in anyone’s life, even platonically puts them at risk.

You’re selfish. Weak.

Dangerous.

Alex battled against the familiar inner voice that taunted him constantly.

“I can hear you thinking,” Leslie suddenly said. Her eyes opened, the light green of her irises captivating him, and held steady. “Good morning, gorgeous,” she murmured.

2

Good morning, gorgeous.

Alex felt Leslie’s words, spoken in a voice rough with sleep, throughout his body.

He shoved away the inner voice that had been castigating him for touching her, for even allowing himself near her, with practiced ease. But he knew it would surface again, just waiting for another opportunity to remind him of what he already knew to be true: he played at being a protector but inside, he was a killer.

He focused on Leslie. “Good morning, Sunshine,” he responded wryly. “Mind telling me why I’m waking up to you in my bed?”

Her eyes rounded. “You mean you don’t remember the ten orgasms you gave me?”

“Leslie…” he warned.

She sat up then froze when the motion made him close his eyes and groan in pain. “Sorry, Alex,” she said softly. “You know I was just teasing. Nothing happened. You okay?”

He rubbed his back where his kidney had been punched. “My kidney wants to finish what that asshole tried to do to me last night, my ribs hurt, and I have one hell of a hangover. Other than that, I’m fine. You didn’t answer my question.”

With a tender touch, Leslie pushed back a lock of his hair that had fallen into his eyes. “I came over last night after I heard you were in the hospital.”

“And then I passed out. Why did you stay?”