Cracks

Alexa’s POV

“Because telling him to stop was the one thing I still couldn’t do,” I whispered, lips brushing Dominic’s as the words left me.

He answered with another deep kiss, rolling me beneath him again even though we’d barely caught our breath. We moved together in the dark, slower this time, like he was trying to memorize every sound I made. When I came, it was quiet and shattering, his name a broken whisper against his shoulder. He followed right after, holding me so tight I could barely breathe.

The next morning the cracks started to show.

I woke alone again. Dominic’s side of the bed was cold. I found him downstairs in the kitchen, phone to his ear, voice low and clipped. He ended the call the second he saw me and slipped the phone into his pocket.

“Everything okay?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind.

“Fine.” He turned and kissed my forehead, but his jaw was tight. “Just work. Nothing for you to worry about.”

I didn’t believe him, but I let it go when he lifted me onto the counter and stepped between my legs. His hands pushed my robe open, mouth hot on my neck. We didn’t even make it to the bedroom. He took me right there, hard and fast, my moans echoing off the tiles. For those few minutes the cracks disappeared.

But they came back.

That afternoon I was folding laundry in my room when my phone rang. Mom. I almost let it go to voicemail, but guilt won.

“Hey,” I answered, trying to sound normal.

“Sweetheart! How are you? Dominic said you’ve been keeping busy with classes.”

My stomach flipped. He’d talked to her? When? “Yeah, just… studying a lot. How’s the trip?”

“Exhausting. Another delay—looks like I’ll be gone at least ten more days now. Everything all right at home? You sound a little off.”

“I’m fine,” I lied, cheeks burning as I remembered Dominic bending me over the couch less than an hour ago. “Really. Dominic’s been… taking good care of me.”

There was a short pause. “Good. He always does. Tell him I said thank you. Love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

I hung up and stared at the phone, nausea rising. My own mother thanking the man who was currently fucking her daughter every chance he got. The guilt hit harder than it had in days.

Dominic found me sitting on the edge of my bed, still clutching the phone. He leaned in the doorway, arms crossed.

“She called?”

“Yeah.” I looked up at him. “Another delay. Ten days minimum.”

His mouth curved into that slow, satisfied smile that usually melted me. This time it only made the knot in my chest tighter.

“Come here,” he said softly.

I stood and walked into his arms. He held me, one hand stroking my hair, the other rubbing slow circles on my lower back.

“Talk to me,” he murmured.

“I feel sick every time she thanks you for looking after me. Like I’m betraying her to her face.”

He was quiet for a moment, then tilted my chin up. “You’re not betraying her. She chose her career over this family years ago. I’m the one who’s been here. For you.”

The words should have comforted me. They didn’t. They sounded too calculated.

“Dominic… how long have you been planning this? Us?”

His eyes darkened, but he didn’t look away. “I didn’t plan the birthday night. That happened because you needed me and I couldn’t stay away anymore. But wanting you? That started long before I ever said ‘I do’ to your mother.”

I stepped back, heart pounding. “What?”

He followed, hands gentle on my shoulders. “I saw you first, Alexa. Bright, beautiful, full of life. Your mother was the way in. I never touched you, never even hinted, until you were old enough and looked at me the same way I looked at you. I removed obstacles. I waited. But I never forced you. Every time you came to me, it was your choice.”

Obstacles. The word echoed. Ethan’s sudden car trouble on my birthday. The way he’d blocked numbers without me asking. The calm way he said he’d “handle” things.

“You made Ethan miss my birthday?” I asked, voice small.

“I made sure he couldn’t get there easily.” He shrugged like it was nothing. “He wasn’t good for you. He never deserved you.”

I stared at him, the man I’d been letting inside my body for days, and felt the first real chill of fear mixed with that same twisted thrill.

“You’re scaring me,” I whispered.

“Am I?” He stepped closer, cupping my face. “Or are you scared because part of you likes that I’d burn the world down to keep you?”

My breath hitched. I hated that he was right. The possessiveness, the control—he wielded it like a weapon for everyone else, but with me his hands stayed gentle, his voice soft, always leaving the final choice to me.

“I don’t know anymore,” I admitted.

He kissed me then, slow and deep, pouring reassurance into every stroke of his tongue. I melted despite myself, hands fisting in his shirt. We ended up on my bed, clothes discarded in seconds. He took his time, kissing every inch of me like he was proving he could be soft even when the rest of him was ruthless.

When he pushed inside me, I gasped, legs wrapping around him.

“Look at me,” he said. “This is real. What I feel for you is real. The rest is just noise.”

I came hard, tears pricking my eyes, and he followed with my name on his lips. Afterward he held me close, whispering that I was safe, that he would never hurt me, that I could walk away anytime.

But I didn’t walk away.

Instead I spent the rest of the day in his arms, letting him distract me with pleasure until the guilt and fear blurred into background noise again.

That night, as we lay tangled together in his bed, my phone lit up on the nightstand. A text from an unknown number.

I know what you’re doing with him. Saw you leaving his room the morning after your birthday. Tell me the truth or I tell your mom.

Ethan.

My blood ran cold. I showed Dominic the screen without a word.

His expression didn’t change, but his arms tightened around me.

“He’s getting desperate,” he said quietly. “Let me deal with it.”

“Dominic—”

“Shh.” He kissed my forehead. “You’re mine to protect. Trust me.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him this was going too far. But when he rolled me beneath him again, sliding into me with that perfect, addictive pressure, all I could do was moan and hold on.

Because even with the cracks widening, even with Ethan threatening to blow everything apart, I still couldn’t tell him to stop.