She shook her head, but it wasn't denial. Not really. She was trembling, but not from fear. She trembled from the terrible, intoxicating truth that she felt it too. Whatever this was. Whatever thing clawed at her when he walked into a room.
It had always been there, even when she tried to bury it. Even when she was with Landon. She hated to confess to this but she only managed to bury her attraction to him by hiding it behind hate.
"I've tried," he whispered. "Tried to stay away. But then I saw you at the bookstore in that damn dress—"
He stopped himself like the memory hurt.
"Dominic…" she breathed.
His name from her lips snapped the thread.
He pushed her gently. The push was gently and firm, just against the wall. His hand framed the side of her face, and his lips hovered over hers, not quite kissing, just close enough for her to feel the threat of it.
"You don't get it," he murmured. "I'm not the man you fantasize about in dorm rooms and notebooks."
"I'm not a child," she said, sharper than she intended.
His jaw ticked. "No. You're not. That's the problem."
His hand dropped to her waist, then slid lower, slow, and deliberate. Every place he touched left her burning.
"You know what I'm capable of," he whispered into her ear, his breath searing her skin. "You want to tempt a man who hasn't touched anyone in years? Who has every reason not to want you but still dreams about having you bent over his desk?"
Celeste's breath caught in her throat.
He tilted her chin up and looked down at her with unfiltered hunger. He tried to hide it, but they slipped out of his eyes. "You walk in here looking like innocence, but you don't get to act surprised when the wolf takes the bait."
His hand slipped under her shirt. She gasped when his knuckles grazed the bare skin of her stomach.
"I haven't been a good man in a long time," he whispered against her neck. "I won't be tender. I won't ask for permission again. But you showed up. And now…" his voice dipped lower, dangerous, "now I want to know how you taste when you beg."
She was trembling.
Not from fear, but from anticipation. From the fire he had lit somewhere too deep to reach. She hated how much she wanted this. Hated how much she wanted him.
"I should leave," she whispered, breath ragged.
He nodded, but didn't move back. "You should." he permitted her, while also challenging her.
She didn't move. He stared at her like she was a loaded sin he couldn't afford, and still he leaned in, his mouth grazing hers with maddening restraint.
"This is the only moment left," he said. "The last one before I lose control."
Celeste met his gaze. "Then lose it."
Something snapped. He pulled her closer from her waist. A quick speed she didn't see coming.
He didn't kiss her. He claimed her.
His mouth crashed into hers with a brutal, devouring heat. There was no more pretending, nor restraint. His hands tangled in her hair, gripping, owning, dragging her closer like he wanted her inside of him.
He turned them swiftly, lifting her with ease and pressing her back against the wall again. Her legs wrapped around him, instinctive, and helpless.
Celeste couldn't breathe. This was so much stronger than she knew. It was darker than she imagined.
His mouth on hers was fire and fury. His hands were rough with want, but precise. He knew his priorities.
The wall behind her vibrated with the weight of him pressing her there, his body was a cage. One she didn't want to escape.
His lips left hers only to trail down her jaw. He went down to the hollow of her throat. She arched, instinctively tilting her neck to give him more.
She moaned, soft, and broken. He growled in return.
She didn't know when he'd pulled her shirt up. The cold air hit her skin just before his hands did. His palm flattened against her stomach. Every breath from her took him deeper.
His fingers slid higher, slowly, until they brushed against the edge of her bra. She gasped, and his breath stuttered at the sound.
"This is forbidden," he rasped, dragging his mouth back up to hers. "You think you know what you want, but you don't."
"I know exactly what I'm asking for," she whispered, breathless. "I want you."
His eyes closed. That almost ruined him.
He kissed her again. Deeper, and slower this time. Not out of control. Not yet. He kissed her like he was memorizing her taste before doing something unforgivable.
His hands slid down again, gripping her thighs. He lifted her effortlessly and carried her across the room, setting her down on the kitchen counter like she weighed nothing.
Her legs parted slightly in surrender.
He stood between them. She took her Jean down a bit, and his hands rested on her bare thighs now. His thumb traced the sensitive skin just above her knee.
Then he stopped.
His breath hitched. He blinked, and his eyes were fixed on her face like he was seeing her again for the first time.
Celeste's soft moans disappeared, and the kitchen became quiet. The silence grew. His jaw clenched. His eyes darkened immediately with war. He was wedging a war within himself.
"No," he said suddenly, voice ragged. "Not like this."
She blinked. "What?"
He stepped back. One step. Then another, like each one cost him oxygen.
"I can't," he said. "Not tonight."
Her legs dropped from the counter, and she slid off quickly, confused and embarrassed. "You kissed me," she whispered, breath shaky. "You wanted—"
"I still want to." His voice was hoarse, barely a growl. "God, I still want to."
His hands curled into fists at his sides. He turned away for a beat, like looking at her too long would shatter his restraint.
"You came here after midnight, wearing nothing but temptation and sad eyes," he said without turning around. "And I almost forgot who I am."
Celeste's heart pounded. "Who are you?"
He looked over his shoulder, and this time, there was no smile. Only the truth. "I'm a public figure. This might be another trap. Who knows."
She flinched.
Dominic exhaled hard. "I should've never let you in."
She took a step forward, then stopped. Her chest ached with rejection, with understanding, and with fire still roaring beneath her skin.
"I'll go," she said quietly.
He didn't stop her. She grabbed her jacket, her shoes, and her dignity. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the door.
Just before she opened it, his voice reached her. "Celeste."
She turned. Slowly as her legs trembled.
"I shouldn't have done that. You deserve better…" he said, staring at the floor like it was safer than her face.