Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Chapter 21


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


The knock on her door came just as she was brushing her teeth. Celeste sighed, and cleaned her eyes.


"Coming," she yelled from inside, and rainsed her mouth before stepping out.


She opened the door, without a care in the world. She was barefoot, groggy, and still in his baggy shirt. She froze when she opened the door.


Dominic stood there, leaning against the frame. He had a cup of black coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. He looked like he hadn’t slept.


"Thought you might be hungry," he said softly.


His soft voice almost scared her. She couldn’t believe the man he was becoming before her. This wasn’t the Dominic she first met.


She blinked. "You’re not supposed to be here."


"I know."


"You’re supposed to leave me alone."


"I know that too."


"And yet..."


"I’m here," he finished. "Because I couldn’t stay away. Because you don’t regret what happened last night. You’re just scared."


She stared at him, fists clenching by her sides.


"Dominic—"


"No speeches," he cut in gently. "Just breakfast."


He handed her the bag.


She looked at it like it might explode.


Then—dammit—she took it.


Her fingers brushed his.


Everything inside her screamed to shut the door. To slam it in his stupid perfect face and remind him that she had a fiancé. A life. A plan.


But her heart betrayed her again.


She stepped back.


Just a little.


Just enough to let him in.


"People would talk," she murmured as she shut the door behind him, and welcomed him into her small home.


Dominic looked around and chuckled. "People always talk,"


He loved how small yet spacious everywhere was. Things were neatly put to the corner.


Celeste’s room was modest. It was nothing like the penthouses or luxury hotels Dominic was used to.


The carpet was slightly worn, the shelves overflowed with books and scattered sticky notes were almost everywhere. A soft lavender scent clung to the air. On the desk, her laptop was still open, word documents were minimized behind Pinterest mood boards. A small stuffed panda sat against her pillow, half-toppled.


He looked around, and something clenched in his chest.


This was her world.


Not his.


Not high-rises and gala auctions. Not black tie deals and international flights. This was a world where ramen noodles lived beside law textbooks. Where a girl could sit on the floor with a tea mug and cry over final grades. Where her scent wasn’t bottled perfume but something gentler—conditioner and vanilla and something that always reminded him of morning.


He noticed she still wore his shirt.


His gaze drifted to her bare thighs beneath it, and the faint red marks on her skin from his grip the night before made him smile quickly. He tore his eyes away.


She had returned to her bed and perched on the edge like a visitor in her own space. She didn’t say a word as she opened the brown paper bag and peeked inside.


Blueberry muffins.


She sighed softly, and was surprised. He noticed. She always picked the blueberries out of fruit salad but devoured them in pastries whenever she was around his family with Landon.


Dominic leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he watched her.


"You’re really trying," she said finally, her voice quieter now. "Aren’t you?"


"I’m here," he replied simply.


She met his eyes. "You don’t even like blueberries." She swallowed softly, realizing she just gave herself out as someone who also noticed him.


"I don’t like being without you more."


A muscle flickered in her jaw. She looked away, and took a sip from the coffee. She needed it, especially after everything that went down earlier.


Dominic approached her, and she stiffened when he neared but didn’t flinch. His hand rose and gently touched her jaw, guiding her face back to him.


"You’re not just a night, Celeste."


Her throat worked as she swallowed.


"I’m not your type."


"You became my type," he said hoarsely. "Somewhere between that first slap and last night."


She snorted. "You deserved the slap."


He smiled. "And I’ll deserve the next one too, if you ever find out how deep I really am into you."


She hesitated. Her lashes fluttered, and for a breath, he thought she might lean in. Probably even kiss him.


But she didn’t. She stood instead, walking to the small window where morning sunlight spilled across the floor. Her arms folded tightly around her.


"You have women," she said, almost to herself. "Models. Heiresses. That Russian violinist you took to Paris last year."


Dominic tilted his head. "You googled me."


"I live on Earth. Of course I googled you."


He stepped forward, closing the space between them again, but didn’t touch her this time. He let the silence speak.


"None of them mattered," he said finally.


She glanced over her shoulder, her expression guarded. "Don’t lie to me, Dominic."


"I’m not."


"You used to sleep with women like you change watches."


"Exactly," he said. "Used to. But I haven’t been with any for a long time until last night."


She blinked.


"I had options, Celeste. Hell, I still do," he added, almost laughing at himself. "But what does it matter when I wake up and wonder if you brushed your hair or remembered to eat?"


She looked away, and something soft cracked across her chest like a frozen lake breaking.


Dominic moved behind her now, so close his breath touched her neck. His hand slid to her waist, but he didn’t try to turn her.


"I want to know if your books stressed you out. If your finals went well. If you still put the cream before the hot water in your tea."


"You remember that?" She felt a bit embarrassed. He had learned this detail when they all went to the beach house together two years ago. Nana had invited her to join Landon there, to know everyone better.


"I remember everything."


Silence wrapped around them.


She didn’t know what scared her more—the fact that he said it, or the fact that she wanted to believe it.


She turned at last, her voice smaller than she meant it to be.


"You’ll get bored."


"No," he said immediately, and firmly. "I’ve had bored. I’ve had it easy. I’ve had beautiful."


His hand came up and rested just under her collarbone, where he could feel the frantic beat of her heart. "But I’ve never had this."


Celeste’s breath hitched.


His eyes dropped to her lips.


Her knees went weak.


He leaned in, and she saw it coming. She shook her head mentally. A kiss would break everything open.


So she stepped back. She took two steps back.


Then she turned and quickly walked away, grabbing her jeans and cardigan from the chair. Her fingers were shaking as she dressed, but she didn’t look back at him once.


Dominic didn’t move.


He just watched her with interest. When she turned toward the door, her hand froze on the knob.


He finally spoke again, "I’ll wait."


She shut her eyes tight. "Don’t." life was really emotionally abusive towards her.


"I will anyway."


She didn’t say another word.


She opened the door, and stepped into the hall. She closed her door behind her.


Dominic didn’t leave immediately.


He sat on her bed, surrounded by her scent and her silence, with a cold muffin in one hand and his heart still beating like she’d kissed him anyway.


What he felt was strange. Wild. Maybe even wrong. But it was fucking beautiful.