Glass Hearts [BL]
Chapter 54: Fuck-Me-Stupid Good

Chapter 54: Fuck-Me-Stupid Good

Steam curled around me as I stepped out of the bathroom, scrubbing a towel through my damp hair.

I found one of Dominic’s shirts folded neatly on the counter.....a black one, soft and oversized, with a faint scent of his cologne clinging to the cotton. I pulled it on, and it hung halfway down my thighs.

I caught my reflection in the mirror.

The shirt made me look even skinnier than usual, my face wasn’t blotchy from crying.

I stood there for a second, clutching the hem and trying to get my breathing under control again.

It was okay to feel safe.

It was okay to let someone take care of me.

A faint noise drifted up the stairs....clinking pans, the soft hiss of something sizzling.

My stomach gave a weak rumble. I was hungry.

I padded downstairs barefoot, feeling the cool tiles under my feet.

As I reached the kitchen doorway, I stopped.

Dominic had his back to me.

He was standing over the gas cooker, barefoot, in grey joggers, shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His hair was messy, and he had a faint smudge of sauce on his jaw.

A low indie song drifted through the speakers, and he hummed along...something slow and mellow, with a girl singing about learning how to love again.

He was stirring a pan of creamy sauce that smelled like garlic, butter, and tomato.

On the counter beside him sat a wooden board with chopped fresh basil and slices of toasted bread. A pot of pasta was bubbling gently on another burner, sending up fragrant steam. A plate of ripe strawberries sat next to a carton of vanilla ice cream.

I leaned against the doorframe, still smiling and watching him.

My stomach growled loud enough to make me wince.

His head turned, and his eyes found mine.

A slow smile spread across his face. "Well, look at you."

I tugged self-consciously at the hem of his T-shirt. "It’s too big."

"It’s perfect." He set the spoon down and stepped closer. His gaze swept down my body in a way that made my skin prickle. "You look...unfairly good in my clothes. Good enough to eat you."

I rolled my eyes and moved closer. "What are you making?"

He walked back to the counter and waved his wooden spoon. "Lemon garlic chicken alfredo. With fresh basil. And," he pointed dramatically, "garlic bread. Because carbs are love."

"It smells amazing."

"Yeah, well..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I figured you deserved something decent after everything."

He grinned, leaning in to kiss my cheek. "Hungry?"

"Starving."

"Go sit. I’m almost done."

I slid into one of the barstools, folding my arms on the counter.

I watched him move around the kitchen...stirring the pasta, sprinkling herbs, drizzling olive oil over the bread before sliding it into the oven.

He looked relaxed, comfortable.

And yes, it was.

I rested my chin on my folded arms, staring at him.

The smell of garlic and butter wrapped filled the air.

Dominic plated everything, the pasta piled high with slices of golden-brown chicken, sauce flecked with green basil. He set a plate in front of me, steam curling upward.

"Eat," he ordered.

I stared down at the food, my chest twisting. "Dom...you didn’t have to do all this."

He tilted his head. "Yes, I did."

Then he set his own plate down beside mine and sat so close our thighs touched.

"Besides..." He nudged my side. "I need you strong. So you can keep up with me later."

My stomach twisted. "Oh my god."

Dominic laughed, bumping his shoulder into mine.

We dug in, the sauce was creamy and tangy, the chicken tender. The pasta tasted even better than it smelled...garlicky and delicious.

Dinner was quiet. Peaceful, even.

Dominic’s knee brushing mine under the table.

He watched me the whole time I ate, like making sure I was actually taking bites and not just pushing food around. His plate sat mostly untouched, but he didn’t seem to care.

When I finished the last bite, I dropped my fork and leaned back, sighing. "It’s amazing. Like actually restaurant-worthy."

Dominic smiled. "Well, I do aim to impress."

"You succeeded," I murmured.

After dinner, he grabbed the strawberries and the ice cream. He dropped a couple of scoops into a bowl and started dipping strawberries into it, holding one out for me.

I leaned forward, as he fed me the strawberry. Cold ice cream melted on my tongue, sweet and soft.

"Mm." I let out a quiet moan.

Dominic’s eyes darkened. "Shit, Ash. Don’t do that noise unless you want me to bend you over the counter."

My face turned red.

He snickered, licking melted ice cream off his thumb. "Just sayin’."

We finished dessert in fits of laughter, me dodging his attempts to smear ice cream on my nose.

Finally, he stood, took my empty bowl, and set it in the sink.

He leaned closer, resting his elbow on the counter. "So... ready for dessert?"

"I thought the strawberries and ice cream were dessert."

"They were the appetizer."

I blinked. "The appetizer for what?"

He just smiled, stood and held out his hand. "You ate my pasta, so now I get to eat you for dessert.’"

I hesitated...then slid my fingers into his.

My fingers trembled as we made our way upstairs.. to his room.

The moment he closed the door, Dominic turned and pressed my back against it, his hands on both side of my head.

I swallowed, my whole body suddenly too aware of how close we were.

"You look good in my shirt," he murmured.

"You already said that."

"Yeah, but you really look good. Like...fuck-me-stupid good."

Heat roared through me. "Dominic—"

He leaned in, then, slid his fingers under the hem of the shirt, brushing over my skin.

"Wanna know what I’ve been thinking about all damn day?" His voice dropped. "I’ve been thinking about you bent over the bathroom sink, this shirt pushed up around your hips, begging me to fuck you so hard you forget your own name.

My knees went weak. "Dom..."

My breath hitched. I couldn’t tell if I was terrified or desperate. Maybe both.