Blur

Alexa’s POV

“Whatever you want,” Dominic said, his voice rough in the quiet hallway. “But only if you tell me to stop.”

I stood there frozen, the front door still clicking shut behind us. The house felt too big and too small at the same time, every shadow stretching long under the single hallway light. My lips still tingled from the kiss in the car. I should have said it. I should have told him to stop right then.

But I didn’t.

Instead I whispered, “I don’t want you to stop.”

The words hung between us like a match struck in the dark. Dominic’s eyes darkened. He didn’t rush. He closed the last step between us slowly, giving me every chance to change my mind. I didn’t take it.

His hand came up to my face again, thumb tracing my lower lip. “You’re sure?”

I nodded, breath shaky. “I’m sure.”

He kissed me again, harder this time, no hesitation. I melted into it, my hands sliding up his chest to grip his shirt. The taste of him, the solid warmth of his body against mine—it wiped away the sting of Ethan’s absence and replaced it with something hotter, sharper. Wrong. So wrong. But I couldn’t pull away.

We stumbled backward together until my back hit the wall. Dominic’s mouth moved to my jaw, then my neck, slow and deliberate. Every touch sent sparks racing under my skin. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

“Upstairs,” he murmured against my throat.

I managed a small nod. He took my hand and led me up the stairs, the house silent except for our breathing and the soft creak of the steps. My bedroom door was closest, but he guided me past it, straight to his. The master bedroom. Mom’s room too, technically, but she hadn’t slept here in months.

He pushed the door open and flicked on the bedside lamp. Soft light filled the space. I hesitated on the threshold, suddenly aware of what we were about to do.

Dominic turned to me, reading the flicker of doubt. “Still with me?”

“Yes,” I breathed. “Just… this is crazy.”

“Crazy feels right tonight.” He stepped close again, hands settling on my waist. “Let me make your birthday what it should have been.”

His words melted the last of my resistance. I reached up and kissed him, pouring every confused, desperate feeling into it. He responded instantly, backing me toward the bed. My dress rode up as I sat on the edge. Dominic knelt between my knees, hands sliding up my thighs, pushing the fabric higher.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, eyes locked on mine.

“It’s not.” My voice came out breathless.

He kissed the inside of my knee, then higher, slow enough to drive me insane. When his mouth reached the edge of my panties, I gasped, fingers tightening in the sheets. He took his time, teasing, until I was trembling. Only then did he stand, stripping off his shirt in one smooth motion.

I’d seen him shirtless before—pool days, casual mornings—but never like this. Never with intent burning in his eyes. I reached for him, tracing the lines of muscle on his chest. He let me explore for a moment before catching my wrists gently.

“Lie back.”

I did. He followed, covering me with his body, careful not to crush me. The weight of him felt perfect. His hands found the zipper of my dress and eased it down. Cool air hit my skin as he peeled the fabric away, leaving me in nothing but lace.

“God, Alexa,” he muttered, voice reverent. “You’re perfect.”

Heat flooded my face. I pulled him down for another kiss to hide it. From there everything blurred into sensation—his mouth on my breasts, his fingers slipping between my legs, finding me already wet and aching. I arched into his touch, soft sounds escaping me that I’d never made with Ethan.

When he finally pushed inside me, slow and deep, I cried out. Not from pain—from the sheer intensity of it. He stilled, letting me adjust, forehead pressed to mine.

“Breathe,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

I wrapped my legs around him, urging him deeper. He started moving, steady at first, then building. Every thrust chased away guilt and replaced it with pure, blinding pleasure. I clung to his shoulders, nails digging in, lost in the rhythm we created together.

“Look at me,” he said when I closed my eyes.

I did. His gaze held mine, dark and possessive, as he drove us both higher. The pressure built fast, coiling tight in my belly. I came first, sharp and sudden, his name breaking from my lips. He followed right after, groaning low as he buried himself deep.

We stayed locked together, breathing hard. Reality trickled back in pieces—the sheets tangled around us, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with sweat, the heavy knowledge of what we’d just done.

Dominic shifted, rolling to the side but keeping me close, one arm draped over my waist. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my hip.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

I nodded against his chest. “Yeah. More than okay.” A small laugh escaped me. “That was…”

“Intense,” he finished.

“Intense,” I agreed. Guilt tried to creep in, but the warmth of his body kept it at bay for now. “What happens tomorrow?”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Tomorrow we figure it out. Tonight you’re mine.”

I closed my eyes, letting his words settle over me. Part of me knew this changed everything. The other part—the louder part—didn’t care. Not yet.

After a while his breathing evened out, but I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling. My stepfather. My mother’s husband. And I had never felt more alive.

The silence stretched until I couldn’t hold the question back any longer.

“Dominic?” I whispered.

“Hmm?”

I turned my head to look at him, heart pounding again. “Do you regret it?”

He opened his eyes, meeting mine without hesitation. His hand came up to cup my cheek.

“Not for a second,” he said. “Do you?”