Page 145 of Scorned Beauty

“These past few weeks, I’ve felt better about myself and I’ve learned to be with you without the pressure of a relationship.”Amusement twitched my lips. “Okay, maaayyybe there’s pressure, but it was in a way that enabled us to be friends first without muddling it with a physical relationship.”

Dom snorted. “Is that how you see it?”

I burst out laughing this time. “That time I woke up rubbing against you and you were hard?—”

“About killed me, baby. The sexual tension between us is incendiary.”

“You did explode in me last night.”

He nuzzled my neck. “I want to explode in you again.”

We exchanged light kisses. My pussy was sore from that bout in the kitchen. Dom hadn’t shaved, and he’d given me stubble burns. Still, having this man lose control over me exhilarated me and imbued me with power.

It was noon. No word from the girls. The last texts in our group chat indicated it was time for the women to shower attention on their husbands since they’d been all over me in the past few weeks.

I didn’t mind being their glow-up project, but we all could use some time off. “What are we going to do today?”

“Would you mind very much if I kept you in the penthouse all weekend?”

“No, but just so you know, my pussy is sore.”

He raised a brow. “Are you complaining?”

I laughed. It was the most levity I’d experienced in a long time. Something had been anchoring my happiness to the ground, preventing me from floating away with giddiness. I was happy with myself, but being with him finally freed my heart to experience the joy of being in love.

Love.

I loved Dom.

I informed him I wasn’t sure yet, but his confidence showed that he knew. He was waiting for me to catch up and admit it to myself.

“Were you talking to your dad this morning?”

He stiffened. “Yes.”

“And? We left the gala early last night. A gala your mother helped organized.”

“Are you asking if she has a problem with us being a couple?” He stood and grabbed the plates off the coffee table and strode to the kitchen.

I followed him. The broken dishes were on the floor, so I went to the pantry to get the dustpan.

“Leave that mess,” he snapped.

I glared at him. “You’re telling a cleaner to leave the mess?”

“You’re not a cleaner anymore.”

“No, I’m not. Doesn’t mean I won’t do any cleaning,” I retorted. “So, talk and don’t leave anything out.”

He repeated what his father said. I was surprised because the few times Bianca and Sera talked about Dom’s parents, it was that Carlotta always got her way.

Dom crouched beside me and gathered the bigger pieces. “You’re barefoot. Don’t step on it.”

“I’m fine.” Uncertainty wrapped itself around my heart again. Not about Dom and me, but I wondered what battle lay ahead with his mother.

He sighed. “Sloane, look at me.”

I halted sweeping the shards into the dustpan. “What?”