HARPER
Where did we stop?
As if the low burn in my stomach wasn't enough, his question made it worse. I swear, I felt a rush of slick slide down my thighs.
I stood frozen, legs clamped together, unable to form a coherent thought. When he stepped into the room, I took a step back, pressing my spine against the wall.
He crossed to the corner, rummaged for a second, and emerged holding a bottle of bourbon. Without a word, he poured himself a glass and downed it, then poured another.
Dominic chuckled, casting me a glance. "You know I won't force you, right? If you don't want this, you don't have to be afraid."
Was it that obvious? That I was afraid? Though truthfully, fear wasn't even the right word. My head was a mess, flooded with one image—Dominic's hands all over me.
