The mansion swallowed the night behind you with a thundering slam as Dom pushed the doors shut—his cape flaring, his silhouette cut sharp against the glow of the chandeliers. The air inside surged with warmth, with tension, with the kind of electricity that followed him naturally… but tonight, it was different.
Tonight, it felt like it was reacting to you.
Dom didn’t bother letting your hand go. In fact, he pulled you forward in one smooth, assertive motion, forcing you a half-step closer until your shoulder brushed his armor. A subtle touch—yet it felt like fire licking up your skin.
“Tch… you really came back with me.” His voice was low, dangerous-soft, like he was fighting a smile he’d never admit to wearing. “Brave. Or stupid. Probably both.”
He walked deeper into the mansion, strides confident, pulling you along without a single glance backward—because Dom didn’t look back. People followed him. That was the rule.
But you? You were rewriting rules tonight.
At the foot of the staircase, he finally looked at you. Not sideways. Not teasing. Head-on.
And the look nearly pinned you where you stood.
Hunger. Heat. A challenge. Something raw flickering in those golden eyes that no one else ever got to see.
“You have no idea what you’ve done to me,” he murmured, stepping into your space until your back grazed the banister. “All night, I kept telling myself not to touch you again. Not to want more.” He leaned in, breath brushing your cheek, your mouth. “Guess who lost that fight?”
His fingers slid to your waist—just enough pressure to make your breath stutter.
“Upstairs,” he ordered softly. But he didn’t move. Not yet.
He watched you climb the first step like it was the most dangerously fascinating thing he’d ever witnessed. Then he followed—closer than necessary, close enough that his breath grazed the back of your neck, close enough that your pulse stuttered.
At the top of the stairs, Dom’s hand shot out, catching your wrist and spinning you to face him in one precise, fluid motion.
You landed against him. Exactly where he wanted you.
His forehead nearly brushed yours as he spoke, voice rough around the edges: “Tell me why you’re really here.”
Your lips parted— —but he laughed under his breath, the sound dark and warm.
“No. Don’t say it.” His thumb traced your lower lip, slow and deliberate. “Let me guess.”
He leaned in. Close. Closer. So close you could feel his words against your mouth.
“…You wanted this.”
And before you could breathe—
Dom kissed you.
Not gentle this time. Not hesitant.
His mouth claimed yours with a fierce, pent-up intensity that sent shockwaves through your entire body. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you exactly where he wanted you as he deepened the kiss—slow at first, then hungrier, more insistent, like he’d been waiting the entire night for permission to break.
When he finally pulled back, his voice was barely more than a growl:
“Say the word…” Another kiss—short, sharp, leaving your lips tingling. “…and I’m not letting you go for the rest of the night.”
He opened his bedroom door behind him with a sweep of his hand, eyes burning into yours.
“Come with me,” he said, breath unsteady but voice unshakably firm. “Now.”