Chapter 18: After

My father went home at ten with his hand on my cheek and told me to call him when I was safe.

I said I would.

Then I walked down Front Street to the brick hotel with my wrist wrapped in a bar towel full of ice.

Dominic was already in the suite.

He had taken off his jacket and tie and was standing at the window with his back to me.

The man in the gray sedan was gone.

"Is it broken?" he said.

"No. Bruised."

He turned around, crossed the room and took my wrist very gently in both hands.

He unwrapped the towel and looked at the red marks left by his brother's fingers.

Then he bent his head and kissed each one.

My breath caught.

"I should have broken his hand," he said against my skin.

"You did enough."

"I didn't."

"Dom."

"I wanted to," he said. "For you. For every day I wasn't here."

I put my free hand in his hair.

"Come here."

He kissed me slowly.

It was nothing like the last time.

There was no rage in it and no shoving, only his mouth, warm and patient, and his hand sliding up my back until I was against him from knee to chest.

I undid his shirt one button at a time, as he had done mine in the fitting room.

He let me.

When it fell open I put my mouth on his chest, over his heart, and felt it go hard against my lips.

"Margot."

"Let me."

He sat on the edge of the bed, and I stood between his knees and pulled my dress over my head.

He looked at me in the lamplight, and for once he said nothing at all.

He unhooked my bra and drew me down against him, and his mouth closed on my breast, soft and then hungry, while his hand slid inside my underwear.

He found me wet already.

He stroked my clit with two fingers, slow circles, and I held his shoulders and rocked into his hand.

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