Page 9 of Ava After Midnight (Chaos and Chemistry #2)

Chapter Nine

AVA

T he rain clings to my skin, cooling in the aftermath, a stark contrast to the heat still simmering between us. My limbs feel loose, sated, the kind of exhaustion that comes from being utterly wrecked in the best possible way.

Domingo’s grip lingers at my waist, steadying me as if he knows my legs won’t hold me much longer. Slowly, he lowers me to the ground, his hands mapping the descent like he’s unwilling to break contact. My bare feet meet the wet concrete, my body still pulsing from everything we’ve done, but he doesn’t let me stay there long.

He presses one last kiss against my throat before murmuring, “Come inside before we catch a cold.”

I should move. I should get up, maybe find my dignity somewhere between the ruined dress and my shredded self-control. But I let him pull me up instead, his hands firm as he guides me inside, the storm’s afterglow following us in.

He pulls me inside, the warmth of the room wrapping around us, thick with humidity and the lingering scent of rain. My body feels boneless, every muscle loose from pleasure and exhaustion, but he doesn’t let me stop moving. Strong arms guide me through the space, his presence a steady force against my back as we stumble toward the bedroom.

I stretch, groaning as my muscles protest, and mutter, "I let you fuck me raw and make me a damn Twinkie, and I don’t even know if you want kids."

A low chuckle rumbles as he sinks onto the mattress beside me, pulling me with him and settling himself against my back. "If you wanted to trap me, mi reina , you should’ve asked first."

I roll over just enough to see the smirk playing at his lips. The sheets tangle beneath us, damp from where we’ve tracked in the storm, but neither of us seems to care."That’s a terrible answer."

He drags a lazy finger down my spine, tracing the curve of my hip. "You didn’t ask if I want them. Just pointed out I might’ve put one in you."

I gasp, shoving at his chest. "Domingo!"

He catches my wrist, grinning like the devil himself, then presses a kiss to my palm. "For the record, no rush. But I do like the idea of you carrying something of mine."

"Not happening," I huff, but the heat in his gaze is enough to make my stomach flip. "At least buy me dinner first."

His laugh is warm, indulgent. " Querida , I just had you for dinner."

I groan, burying my face in his chest. "I walked right into that one."

"You did. And I’ll remind you of it every time you pretend you don’t love how it feels to be ruined."

The words settle between us, heavier than they should be. He doesn’t mean them lightly.

His hand drifts lazily up my arm, over my shoulder, across my collarbone, as if he’s memorizing me through touch alone. His fingers find my wrist, his mouth ghosting over the thrumming veins beneath.

Soft. Intentional. Like a promise he won’t say out loud.

I should stop this. I should feel ashamed. I should be drowning in regret.

But all I feel is warm.

For the first time in a long time, I feel safe.

I exhale, letting my body mold into his, our legs tangled in the sheets as the storm outside begins to fade. The darkness thins, shifting into the muted blue of early morning.

We stay like that, wrapped in something too sacred to name.

Domingo disappears at some point, only to return with a tray I didn’t even hear him bring in. He presses a piece of fruit to my lips. "Strawberry or mango, princesa ?"

I bite into the mango slice, eyes narrowing. "Are you trying to win me over with food?"

He smirks. "Is it working?"

I chew, pretending to think about it. "Mmm. Maybe. A little."

His gaze darkens with something softer than desire. "Good."

I roll onto my stomach, chin resting against his chest, fingers tracing idle patterns along his forearm. "Tell me something real. Something about you."

He’s quiet for a moment. Then, "I once spent three months living out of a car in Mexico."

I blink. "What? Why?"

His fingers continue their slow path up my spine. "Had a job that went sideways. Lost everything. Had to start over."

There’s no shame in his voice, just quiet, measured honesty. The weight of it presses against my ribs.

"And you?" he asks.

I hesitate. "I used to believe in love."

His brows lift slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“Real, big, all-consuming love. The kind that swallows you whole,” I murmur. "But now... I don’t know. I think I just believe in obligation."

Domingo watches me like he’s peeling back my layers one by one, seeing past the walls I’ve spent years reinforcing. "Obligation isn’t love, Ava."

I swallow hard. "Yeah. I know."

We don’t say anything for a while. He just holds me, his fingers never ceasing their slow, reverent path over my skin.

And for a little while, I let myself believe this moment can last.

We must have fallen asleep like that, tangled together. His heartbeat my lullaby, the storm our witness. The last thing I remember is his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin, his voice rough with satisfaction as he whispered, Descansa, mi alma . Sleep.

I dream of Spanish endearments and passionate touches, of freedom and possibility.

Until sunlight replaces lightning, warming my skin as consciousness creeps in.

I’m wrapped in Domingo’s arms, our bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. His breath fans against my neck, measured and warm.

For one perfect moment, reality feels distant—just the afterglow of last night’s passion and the solid comfort of his embrace.

Then—

The security system’s shrill alarm shatters the silence.

My heart slams into my ribs.

"What—" I jolt upright, suddenly, horrifyingly sober.

Domingo is already on his feet.

No hesitation. No panic. Just pure, sharpened awareness.

"Someone entered the house code."

The words hit like ice water.

Everything crashes back into me.

The drinking. The dancing. The storm.

The sex.

Oh God, the sex.

I push up on unsteady arms, breath ragged, stomach twisting. My hand presses against my chest, fingers curling against bare skin.

My ring isn’t there.

It’s with Zoe. Hidden. Safe. But that doesn’t matter.

Because the weight of it is still there.

I cheated.

I cheated on Matthew.

Domingo sees it.

Of course, he does.

His expression shifts—gone is the man who whispered against my skin in the dark, who pulled me under and made me forget everything but him.

His jaw sets. His body still. Watching.

He doesn’t smirk.

He doesn’t gloat.

He just waits.

"Ava—"

The sharp thud of footsteps stops him cold.

Getting closer.

I stop breathing.

Domingo doesn’t.

His gaze flicks toward the sound, sharp, calculating. His entire body shifts—not startled. Not worried. Just… aware.

Our eyes meet.

Time slows.

In that split second, I see everything.

Everything we could be. Everything we might have been.

Everything that’s about to crash and burn around us.

The doorknob turns.

I flinch.

Domingo doesn’t.

He leans back against the wall, arms loose at his sides, bare skin still marked by last night.

The footsteps stop.

A voice.

Familiar. Close. Too fucking close.

“Ava?”

My blood runs cold.

Domingo smirks.

Like a man who knows whoever’s at that door is already too late.