Dominic sat in the same spot on the edge of the bed. His shirt was still unbuttoned, and the scent of her still clinged to his skin.
His fingers were clenched into fists.
She had left. Again.
And he'd let her go. Again.
His phone sat on the nightstand, her last message still lighting up the screen: I'm fine. Don't text me again.
His jaw tightened. She was lying. She wasn't fine. And neither was he. She said they were a mistake and he'd rather not be with her than believe that.
The ghost of her laugh still echoed in his head. Her warmth was in his sheets. Her voice was still tattooed in the hollow of his chest.
He could still feel the way she trembled beneath him, and the way she whispered his name like it meant something. Because it did.
She wasn't just a conquest. She never had been.
Dominic grabbed his keys. If she wouldn't let him talk to her now, he'd wait. She belonged with him. She knew it now. And he was done playing it cool.
.....
The Next Morning – Celeste's Dorm
