Chapter Seven
Sienna
He was heavy on my back, still embedded deep inside me, and our bodies were slick with our combined sweat. The scent of our sex permeated the air. I was collapsed in a kind of curl on the couch, slowly coming back into the moment, and I knew he’d be at least a minute or two behind me. That was okay. His weight was comforting; I felt protected, safe, and utterly at ease. It was wonderful. I didn’t realize how much my daily tension—and the added stresses of today’s extreme tension—had taken hold of my body. He really was good for me, at least on this physical level.
As my consciousness slowly drifted back to awake, I recognized how right he had been: that my body recognized him, sought him out, trusted him even before my mind did. He was offering himself to me, in a way, by asking for my trust, my confidence, my faith in his ability to help me. This was a new experience for me, and it was hard for me to grasp all the implications. But I did know that this might be my only opportunity to ask for his help, to test that trust. He’d given me no reason to disbelieve what he said, and every reason to believe him. He treated me with kindness, and caring, and firmness, and humor, and a fierce strength that I knew would be necessary, no matter how things played out ahead.
The bottom line was that I wanted to trust him. I wanted his help. I wanted to not be alone anymore.
Asia had been a rock for me, but she had her own life, too, and her own baggage that she was trying to carry. She balanced as precariously as I did. I loved her dearly, but I could not ask more of her than her love and honesty and emo support.
But Dom was asking me to ask more of him. To rely on him. To trust in him.
And god, did I want to.
He gave me a long squeeze, a backward hug, then kissed my shoulder blade and pulled himself up and out of me, slowly so I could feel every inch of him again. I groaned. I hated the emptiness he left behind, but I think both of us were also ready to get in a more comfortable space. I wished we would have been in a normal bedroom, but maybe there would be a chance for that later.
Later. Oh my god, I just realized what I had promised him. I had sworn off my plan for tonight; there would be no big shootout with Mr. Ronn. I was at once both regretful and supremely relieved. Fuck it all, I was Hamlet. The truth was that I desperately wanted—no, needed—to revenge my sister. But my nerves and anxiety tonight—not to mention my utter relief in the safety net of Dom—forced home that I really did not want to become, in the process, a killer. I had no idea where to go from here.
“Okay, baby, let’s get out of here. We have some things to work out still, yeah?” While my mind had been wandering, Dom had apparently taken care of trashing the condom and already had his jeans on. Barefoot and bare-chested—hot damn, but he was beautiful—Dom looked at me expectantly.
“Yeah, you’re right. I guess we do.” He watched me for a minute, as I peeled myself off the couch and reached for some Kleenex to wipe myself off before redressing in my scant G-string. He tossed me his T-shirt and drew on his kutte over his bare torso, then put on his socks and boots again. I still had my stilettos on, so it seemed we were good enough to go. I just had to drop back into the dressing room to grab my duffel and handbag, throw on my black miniskirt and a top, return his tee to him, and we could be off. I’m not sure why, but we seemed to have an automatic mutual understanding that no matter the time, my shift was over.
He followed me home on his bike, and I gave him the two-second tour of my one-bedroom apartment. There wasn’t much to it; everything in it was Goodwill furniture and secondhand articles. I’d been ready to just leave it all behind, obviously. There was nothing of sentiment, nothing of attachment or personal value. So there wasn’t much for him to investigate that might have been of note. His gaze swept the space once, and he looked at me knowingly, as if he could read right off the bat that this was just a space I slept in, and not one that reflected me at all.
“Have a seat, Dom. You want anything to drink?” I asked, trying to act like a normal person might under normal circumstances, having a new friend over to visit. It had been a very long time since anyone but Asia or Tania had been in my space, and I was out of practice. But I seemed to get it right.
“Just a glass of water, babe. Get yourself one, too. Then come over here and sit. Get off o’ your feet.” He quickly made friends with my iPod and speaker set, picked out one of my favorite bossa nova albums, and cornered himself on the couch.
I did as requested, put the glasses on the coffee table, and joined him there. He pointed me to the opposite end and adjusted himself to face me so he was sitting sideways, one foot tucked under his knee, the other on the floor. He gestured to my feet and patted his lap. “Right here, babe. Gimme your feet.”