Semua Bab His Games, Her Rules: Bab 71 - Bab 80

ROBYNThe moment we step into our hotel suite, I lead Dominique straight to the kitchen. I don’t say a word as I gently push him onto a barstool by the counter. He sits, watching me silently. I open the fridge, pull out an ice pack, and walk over to him, keeping just enough distance to keep my head straight.His arm is tense beneath my touch, but he doesn’t pull away when I guide it onto the counter. I gently place the ice pack on his bruised knuckles. The swelling is mild, but it’ll worsen if we don’t tend to it.The kitchen is quiet. Too quiet. The only thing I can hear is the sound of our breathing and my own heartbeat pounding like a drum in my chest.I shift my gaze from the ice to his face. He’s already staring at me, his jaw tight, eyes unreadable.“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” Dominique says after a moment, voice low. “Lorenzo’s had that coming for a while.”I flash him a small smile. “It’s okay. I think it was kind of hot.”His brows lift, a smirk tugging at the co

ROBYN“You know there’s no going back after this, right?” he asks, his voice thick, feral desire gleaming in his blue eyes as he stares down at me.“Yes,” I whisper, breathless.A deep, guttural sound escapes his throat as he steps between my parted thighs, my feet still planted firmly on the edge of the counter.“Mine,” Dominique growls, his palm cupping my right breast, kneading it with possessive intent. “Tell me you’re mine,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear as I melt beneath his touch.“Yours. Every part of me.”He grunts in satisfaction, his knuckles grazing my sensitive nipple as his hand molds around my breast, claiming it. “Tell me what you want, babe,” he whispers, voice low and commanding.My breasts feel heavy with need, tingling for more. Dominique rolls my nipple between his fingers, drawing a shaky breath from me.“Tell me,” he growls again, lips brushing mine—barely there, yet electric.I wind my arms around his waist, sliding my hands up the hard ridges of h

DOMINIQUE I can’t sleep. Hell, I can’t even think straight. Robyn is curled up in my arms, snoring softly, her breath brushing against my chest—and I can’t tear my eyes off her. God, she’s beautiful. Feisty. Stubborn. Always ready to argue. But right now? She looks calm. Peaceful. The kind of quiet that doesn’t come easy to her. The kind that makes me want to hold her even tighter, just to keep it from slipping away. One arm is draped over my waist, her thigh tucked between my legs, her breasts pressed against my chest. We’re both naked, only the duvet separating us from total sin again. And shit—I’m already getting hard. Because she’s here. And she’s mine. Even if only for tonight. I groan quietly and tilt my head back, staring at the ceiling like it might offer some kind of clarity. It doesn’t. Robyn shifts in her sleep, pressing closer, her body rubbing against mine like a goddamn temptation in the flesh. I swear, she doesn’t even know what

ROBYN Sunlight seeps through the thick drapes, warm and golden as it brushes against my skin. I blink slowly, rubbing my knuckles over my eyelids before pushing myself up to sit. The hotel room is quiet. And empty. I glance to the side and reach for my phone on the nightstand. The screen lights up—7:12 a.m.—along with a stack of unread messages. One from Monique. A few group texts from Noah and Tiwa. I set it back down and run my fingers through my tangled hair, groaning softly. How exhausted was I? I don’t even remember falling asleep. The minute my back hit the mattress, I was out cold. Not even Dominique’s touch—his warmth, his mouth, the way he made love to me—could pull me out of that post-orgasmic haze. And now? I feel it. The echoes of last night still thrum through me. The ache between my legs. The soreness in places only he touched. The memory of his body—hot and hard, buried inside me. I step out of bed, unsurprised to find I’m still completely naked. I make

ROBYN “You fucking bitch!” Monique’s voice explodes through the hotel room like a firecracker the second she answers my FaceTime call. “Um, language,” I say with a grin, trying not to laugh. “I’ve been texting you for the past hour and you didn’t reply. What—Dominique got you all tangled up in the sheets and suddenly you forget about me? Me? Your one and only true love?” she cries dramatically, batting her lashes like I just betrayed her in a romance novel. I roll my eyes at her theatrics, trying to ignore the way my cheeks heat at her not-so-wrong assumption. I’d called Monique for backup because I still hadn’t decided what to wear for Camilla’s wedding. Dominique, of course, went overboard and had an entire rack of designer dresses delivered to the suite like we’re starring in a movie montage. The goal was simple: don’t overdress… while still being sexy and utterly breathtaking. And, if I’m being honest with myself? The real goal is to leave Dominique speechless. Maybe