Morning After

Alexa’s POV

“Not for a second,” Dominic said, his voice low and steady in the dim morning light filtering through the curtains. “Do you?”

I lay there with his hand still cupping my cheek, his body warm against mine under the sheets. The question hung between us, simple but loaded. Last night replayed in flashes—his hands, his mouth, the way he’d looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered. My body still hummed with the memory, but guilt was creeping in fast now that the haze of lust had faded.

“No,” I whispered. “I don’t regret it. But… this is insane.”

He smiled, small and knowing, thumb brushing my lower lip. “Insane felt pretty damn good last night.”

I laughed softly, but it died quickly. “She’s your wife. My mom. If she ever finds out—”

“She won’t.” His tone stayed calm, confident. “Not unless we want her to. And right now, I don’t.”

He pulled me closer, kissing my forehead like it was the most natural thing in the world. I let myself sink into his chest for a moment, listening to his heartbeat. Steady. Strong. Nothing like the chaotic mess in my own ribcage.

“I should go to my room,” I said, even as I stayed put. “Before the housekeeper shows up or something.”

“Stay a little longer.” His hand slid down my bare back, slow and possessive. “No one’s coming today. House is empty. Just us.”

The temptation was too strong. I tilted my head up and kissed him instead of arguing. He responded instantly, rolling me onto my back with easy strength. The kiss deepened, turning hungry again. My legs parted without thinking, welcoming him as he settled between them.

We moved slower this time, savoring every touch. His mouth mapped my skin like he was memorizing it—collarbone, breasts, the dip of my waist. When he entered me again, I gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. It felt even better in the daylight, every detail sharp and real. No alcohol to blame. Just pure, raw need.

Afterward, we lay tangled together, breathing hard. Dominic traced circles on my hip, eyes half-lidded with satisfaction.

“You’re addictive, Alexa,” he murmured. “Knew you would be.”

I turned to face him, searching his expression. “How long have you… thought about this?”

He didn’t look away. “Longer than I should admit. Watching you grow up, turning into this woman who lights up every room. Trying to ignore it because it was wrong. Then last night… you looked at me like you felt it too.”

“I did,” I admitted, voice small. “For a while now. I just never thought you’d actually…”

“Touch you?” He finished, a dark edge to his smile. “I’ve wanted to for years. But I waited. Never pushed. Until you were ready to choose.”

The words sent a thrill through me, mixed with unease. Choose. Like he’d been orchestrating the moment without forcing it. I pushed the thought aside, focusing on the warmth of his body instead.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand—Ethan’s name flashing on the screen. I ignored it, but Dominic noticed.

“He’s calling now?” he asked, tone flat.

“Probably sorry about last night.” I reached for the phone, but Dominic caught my wrist gently.

“Let it ring.” His grip wasn’t tight, but it was firm. “He had his chance. You don’t owe him anything anymore.”

I hesitated, then let the call go to voicemail. Dominic’s eyes stayed on me, something possessive flickering there that should have scared me. It didn’t. It excited me.

We eventually got up. I borrowed one of his shirts, the fabric swallowing me, smelling like him. Down in the kitchen, he made coffee while I perched on the counter, watching him move with that effortless confidence. Sunlight streamed through the windows, making everything feel deceptively normal.

“Pancakes?” he asked, glancing over with a smirk.

I smiled. “Only if you let me help.”

We cooked together, bumping hips on purpose, stealing kisses between flipping batter. It felt domestic. Dangerous. Like playing house in a world that could collapse any second.

Halfway through breakfast, my phone buzzed again. This time a text from Ethan: Baby, I’m so sorry. Traffic was insane, then my phone died. Let me make it up to you tonight?

I read it out loud without thinking. Dominic’s fork paused mid-air.

“Tell him no,” he said quietly.

I looked up. “What?”

“Tell him you’re done.” He set his fork down, eyes locked on mine. “Or I can handle it if you want.”

The casual way he said it sent a shiver down my spine. Not threatening toward me—never that—but the edge in his voice made it clear he wasn’t joking about stepping in.

“I’ll handle it,” I said, typing quickly: It’s over, Ethan. Don’t call anymore.

Sent. My stomach twisted, but relief followed. Dominic nodded once, satisfied, and went back to eating like nothing happened.

The rest of the morning slipped by in easy conversation—him asking about my classes, me laughing at his dry jokes. But underneath it all, the secret pulsed like a live wire. Every glance, every accidental brush of hands felt charged.

By afternoon, we ended up back in his bed. This time I took control, pushing him down and straddling his hips. He let me, hands on my thighs, watching with dark hunger as I moved above him. The power in that moment was heady. He groaned my name like a prayer, fingers digging in just enough to leave marks I’d have to hide.

After, as we caught our breath, I traced the line of his jaw.

“What if Mom comes home early?” I asked.

“She won’t.” He caught my hand, kissing my palm. “And even if she did, we’d deal with it. Together.”

I wanted to believe him. The confidence in his voice made it easy. But deep down, fear lingered at the edges—fear of losing everything, fear of how much I already craved this.

My phone lit up again on the dresser. Another text. I didn’t check it this time.

Dominic noticed. “Still him?”

“Probably.” I shrugged, nestling closer. “Doesn’t matter now.”

He pulled me tighter against his chest, one hand stroking my hair. “Good girl.”

The praise warmed me more than it should have. I closed my eyes, letting the moment stretch.

Hours later, as evening crept in, we finally dressed. I stood in the doorway of his room, wearing my own clothes again, the spell of the day starting to break.

“I should sleep in my bed tonight,” I said. “Just in case.”

Dominic crossed the room in two strides, cupping my face with both hands. He kissed me slow and deep, like he was sealing something.

“Or you could stay here,” he murmured against my lips. “Where you belong now.”

My heart stuttered. I searched his eyes, seeing the same fire from last night still burning steady.

I swallowed hard, then whispered the truth that scared and thrilled me most.

“I want to stay.”