LOGINEthan Hale never thought desperation would drive him here. He was suffering from a failed engagement, rent was overdue and his pride was hanging by a thread when the discreet contract landed in his lap. A year of surrender to a man who can buy and break anyone? Insanity. Dominic Blackwell isn’t just anyone. He’s ruthless. He’s magnetic. He’s a billionaire with a hunger for control that borders on obsession. And he wants Ethan… body, mind, and soul. What begins as a business arrangement quickly turns into something darker, something Ethan swore he wasn’t capable of craving. Every touch leaves him raw, every command strips him bare, and every night pushes him deeper into a world where pain and pleasure blur until he can’t tell the difference. Ethan told himself he was straight. He told himself this was just about money. But Dominic has a way of dragging out the parts of Ethan he never dared to face: the fantasies, the submission, the need to be owned. One year. That’s all Ethan agreed to. But in Dominic’s arms, rules are broken, lines are crossed, and one year might not be enough to survive…or to let go.
View MoreEthan’s POVIt starts so small, I almost don’t notice. A brush of fingers when Dominic passes me the coffee mug. His hand steady, mine not. The fleeting warmth of his arm grazing mine as we reach for the same plate. A second too long, a pause too heavy.Neither of us says anything. We never do but the air hums differently now.It’s been weeks since we started living like this again quietly, side by side. We cook, we talk, we even laugh sometimes. The silences aren’t painful anymore. They’re just waiting.This morning, I’m at the stove flipping eggs when he comes in. I feel him before I hear him, the faint shift of air, the soft thud of his bare feet on the hardwood floor.“Morning,” I say, voice too casual.“Morning.”He’s close. Too close. He reaches past me for the salt, and I freeze. His arm brushes my back, his breath ghosts across the back of my neck.The contact lasts a heartbeat. Maybe less. But my pulse spikes anyway, traitorous and sharp.“Sorry,” he says, though his voice d
Dominic’s POVThe house feels different now. Not louder, not brighter just alive in a way it hasn’t been for a long time. It starts with the little things.The sound of a pan sizzling in the morning instead of silence. The faint hum of music drifting from the kitchen, Ethan’s playlist, of course, something low and nostalgic. The smell of coffee, now shared instead of left outside my door.He doesn’t ask before joining me at the counter anymore. I don’t tell him to leave. Some mornings we talk, some we don’t. But the quiet doesn’t ache like it used to.Today, he’s standing by the stove, hair still damp from the shower, flipping pancakes with unnecessary concentration. He’s always been terrible at them burns the first batch every time but he keeps trying anyway.“Don’t stare,” he says, without turning around. “You’re making me nervous.”I smirk, leaning back in my chair. “You burn them every time, Ethan. You can’t blame my eyes for that.”He glances over his shoulder, mock offense paint
Ethan’s POVIt started with silence. Not the heavy kind that pressed between us before, but the kind that waited. We sat in the living room, the soft hum of the heater filling the space. Outside, rain fell in steady sheets, smudging the world into a blur of gray. I didn’t know what made this night different. Maybe it was the way Dominic looked at me earlier, the ghost of the past few weeks finally softening in his eyes. Maybe it was just time, how it wore down the edges of even the sharpest pain. He sat across from me, hands loosely clasped, his gaze fixed somewhere near the floor. I’d grown used to his silences, but this one felt different. It wasn’t about avoidance anymore. It felt like he was gathering courage.“Dominic,” I said quietly, “we don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”He looked up then, eyes steady on mine. “I think we do.”I nodded, unsure if I was ready. But I’d promised to stay until he decided he could trust me again, and this felt like the beginning of that d
Dominic’s POVIt always started the same way. The echo of laughter down the hallway. The sound of a door that wasn’t supposed to be open. The weight of betrayal sinking into my stomach before I even saw it. I’d lived this memory a hundred times, but tonight it came sharper, closer like my mind was determined to make me relive every detail.The bed sheets tangled around my legs as I tried to pull myself out of the dream, but I couldn’t. Tyler’s voice rang out again, low and familiar. Ethan’s laughter was soft, nervous and then that silence. That deafening silence that came after I pushed the door open.I saw them again, Tyler’s hand on Ethan’s back, the way Ethan froze, the look of guilt that cracked his face open. I could still smell the wine, still feel the cold air that slipped in through the window I’d left open that night.“Stop,” I muttered, but the memory didn’t stop. It never did.When I jolted awake, my chest was tight, my skin damp. My throat burned like I’d been screaming,
Ethan’s POVDinner had become something of a ritual again. Quiet, steady, almost sacred. No grand declarations, no forced attempts at normalcy just two people existing in the same room, trying to remember how to breathe around each other.Dominic sat across from me, the light above the table casting a soft glow over his features. His plate was half-finished, his fork idle against the edge. Once upon a time, I would’ve filled the silence with chatter anything to fill that space that used to feel like rejection. Now, I just let it be.The sound of the city drifted in through the slightly open window: car horns, laughter, the hum of a world still turning outside our slow, delicate bubble. I took another bite of pasta, swallowing quietly before I glanced up. He caught me looking.“What?” he asked, not unkindly.I smiled faintly. “Nothing. Just… it’s nice. Having dinner again.”He hummed in response, a small sound that could’ve meant anything, but it wasn’t cold. His eyes softened for ju
Dominic’s POVIt was one of those quiet afternoons where the silence felt too loud. Ethan was out running errands, the apartment half-lit by soft gold spilling through the blinds. I hadn’t meant to go looking through the old desk, honestly, I just wanted to find a pen.But when I pulled the drawer open, a corner of folded paper caught my eye. A note, tucked beneath a mess of receipts and old bills, its edges curling from age. I knew that handwriting. Tyler’s.For a moment, the world seemed to tilt. The name alone was enough to reopen every wound I’d worked so hard to let scab over.I hesitated, every instinct told me to shut the drawer, to leave the ghost where it belonged. But my hand moved anyway. I unfolded it slowly, breath held like I was defusing a bomb.The paper was thin, the ink slightly smudged, but the words were sharp. Precise. Cruel in their honesty.Dominic,I’m sorry for everything .TI stared at the words until they blurred.At first, there was just heat anger, resent
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