Page 46 of Laced With Secrets

“Our home,” I echoed, my voice soft but certain.

We eventually cleaned up using the paper towels and water bottle Dominic had stashed in his messenger bag—always prepared, my practical alpha.

“We should probably get back,” I said, though I was reluctant to leave. I pulled on my sweater, letting the fabric drape against my skin while my jeans lay abandoned on the floor.

My gaze lingered on Dominic as he tugged denim over his powerful thighs, the fabric settling snugly around his hips.

“Probably,” he agreed, but instead of moving toward his discarded shirt, he pulled out his phone. “Let me take some measurements first. Start planning where furniture should go.”

I watched him pace off distances, making notes. Every few steps, he glanced over his shoulder with raised eyebrows, seeking my nod of approval. Watching him move through our future space, methodically planning our life together, soothed something deep within me. The domesticity of it felt like a balm—the perfect counterpoint to the raw possessiveness he’d displayed just moments before.

“The nursery should be the room with the eastern exposure,” he said, gesturing to one of the bedrooms. “Morning light, but not too harsh.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” I observed.

“I’ve thought about everything,” he admitted, still focused on his phone. “Every detail of our life together.”

I sidled up behind him, my arms finding their way around his waist. Rising onto my tiptoes, my lips brushed against the warm skin of his bare shoulder. He hummed appreciatively but kept typing notes.

“The living area should have the main seating facing the windows,” he continued, his voice slightly less steady as I circled him, my fingertips dancing along his arm before coming to rest against the solid warmth of his chest. I rose to my tiptoes again, my lips tracing a path along the warm column of his throat. “Maybe a sectional. And we’ll need?—”

I plucked the phone from his hands.

“Leo,” he protested.

“You can measure later,” I said, backing toward the center of the room, holding his phone hostage.

“I was in the middle of?—”

“Come here.” I lowered myself to the plush carpeting. My fingers wrapped around his wrist, coaxing him to join me. “Lay down.”

Something sparked in his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Taking what I want.” I pushed gently at his chest until he was on his back, then climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. “Any objections?”

His hands found my thighs, gripping tight. “None whatsoever.”

“Good.” I leaned down to kiss him, rolling my hips. We both gasped at the delicious friction. “Because I think we should christen this apartment properly.”

“We just—” His breath caught as I ground against him. “We just did.”

“That was you doing the claiming.” I sat up, pulling my sweater over my head. “Now it’s my turn.”

The look in his eyes—dark, hungry, utterly devoted—made heat pool in my belly.

“Then do it,” he said roughly. “Claim me.”

So I did.

CHAPTER TEN

The smell of roasted chestnuts hit me the moment we stepped out of the car, warm and sweet against the crisp winter air. Downtown Millcrest remained decked out in full holiday splendor—twinkling lights strung between lampposts, wreaths on every storefront, and festive winter scenes adoring each window. Dominic had been aghast when I told him that it was Millcrest tradition to extend the Christmas cheer into well past late-January.

“That long?” he’d asked.

“Honestly,” I’d said, laughing at his look of horror. “It’d probably be longer if we also didn’t make such a big deal out of Valentine’s Day.”

I suddenly stopped, sniffing the air. “I smell roasted chestnuts…”