In Love With Him

Chapter 2

Kennedy’s POV

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I saw Dominic walk through the door, but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

Tall, broad-shouldered, tan skin pulled over muscle like it had been sculpted by a Roman artist. His chestnut brown hair was just messy enough to look intentional, and the trimmed beard added a rugged sharpness to his already unfairly perfect jawline. He didn’t smile much — but when he did, there was something about it… like he knew things he shouldn’t. Things no one ever said out loud.

And don’t get me started on his arms. Tattooed. Veins visible. Tight T-shirt stretched across his chest like it had to fight for space.

I forced my eyes away, hoping no one noticed how long I stared.

It was fine. He was just good-looking. That didn’t mean anything. Pretty faces were easy to ignore when they came with egos attached.

And based on that smug little smirk he tossed my way the second we locked eyes? His ego needed its own zip code.

He was cocky. You could see it in the way he stood, the lazy confidence in his posture. Like he was sizing the whole place up, including me. I didn’t like it. And I really didn’t like that some tiny, traitorous part of me kind of liked that he noticed me.

Gross.

“Hey, so you’re the one I get to share a bathroom with,” he said casually.

I wanted to laugh. Instead, I settled for a flat, “Lucky me.”

Dad and Helen chuckled, like this was some adorable sitcom moment. Meanwhile, I was already counting how many new locks I’d need to install.

Then, as if the testosterone levels in the house weren’t already peaking, Max came bouncing into the room like a wind-up toy.

“You’re Dominic?” Max asked, practically vibrating with excitement. “Dude, how tall are you? Do you really do MMA? What car do you drive? Did you ever break a guy’s arm—like, in a match, not just because?”

I resisted the urge to facepalm.

To my absolute horror, Dominic grinned and crouched a bit to Max’s level.

“Nah, never snapped a guy’s arm,” he said, ruffling Max’s hair. “But I dislocated a shoulder once. That was a mess.”

Max’s eyes went wide like he’d just met a Marvel superhero.

And just like that, they were off — talking about cars, fighters, and some other noise I tuned out. I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, trying not to look as irritated as I felt.

Great. A house full of men now. Testosterone and sweaty gym bags and someone probably leaving the toilet seat up.

What no one here knew was that I liked cars too and MMA. Not that I ever talked about it — people always assumed I was too quiet, too introverted, too… whatever. But downstairs, in the garage, was my pride and joy: a 1962 Corvette Stingray. It had taken me nearly a year to find it, and even longer to convince Dad to let me buy it. I’d been rebuilding it myself ever since — piece by piece. I just needed a few more parts and body work and it’d be on the road. Mine. All mine.

And now I had to share a bathroom.

“Hey, Kennedy,” Dad said, cutting into my thoughts. “Mind showing Dominic up to his room?”

I stared at him. “Do I have to?”

Dad raised a brow.

I sighed. “Fine.”

I turned on my heel. “This way.”

I didn’t wait to see if Dominic followed — I knew he did. I could hear his heavy footsteps behind me as I started up the first flight of stairs. I kept my eyes forward, even though I felt his gaze like a hand on my back.

We hit the second-floor landing, and I didn’t break stride.

“Okay,” I said, pointing quickly. “That’s Max’s room. That’s my dad’s and now Helen’s room. And that door there? That’s the study. No one’s allowed in there unless my dad says so.”

He didn’t say anything, which annoyed me more than if he had.

I pointed to the bathroom door on the second floor. “That’s mainly Max’s. Use it only if you’re desperate. Trust me.”

I started up the next set of stairs, not waiting to see if he was behind me.

My boots thudded softly on the hardwood as I reached the third floor. I stopped at the top and turned halfway, pointing to the hallway.

“My room’s down that side,” I said, flicking my fingers to the left. “Yours is on the right. There’s a shared bathroom between us — it connects both rooms. Each door locks from both sides.”

I turned to look at him fully — and nearly bumped into him.

He was close.

Closer than I expected.

And he was looking at me in a way that made my skin tighten under my clothes. His eyes dipped down — not subtle — before flicking back up to mine like nothing happened.

Was he just checking out my ass?

I clenched my jaw and ignored it.

“Bathroom rules,” I said sharply. “One. Don’t touch my stuff. Two. Don’t leave a mess. Three. Pick up after yourself. Four. Keep your s**t organized. Five—and this one’s non-negotiable—do not ever come into my room. Ever. Unless I say you can.”

He grinned.

That slow, cocky, devastating grin that made me want to punch something.

“As you wish… princess.”

My eyes narrowed.

He winked.

Then turned and walked down the hall toward his room like he owned it.

I stood there for a second, blood buzzing under my skin, unsure if I wanted to scream, slam my door, or throw something at his head.

God help me.

This was going to be hell.

---

Dominic’s POV

She was still talking when we reached the second floor, but I barely caught a word.

Something about rooms, rules, and the study being off-limits.

Didn’t matter.

Because my eyes were glued to one thing — her ass.

And damn, what an ass it was.

I didn’t expect it. Not at all. When my mom said Paul’s daughter was a quiet, smart, nerdy type, I pictured some awkward girl with glasses, maybe a ponytail, oversized hoodie, scowling over a book.

And yeah — Kennedy kind of matched that on the surface. Dark clothes, quiet stare, emo vibe. But under that baggy T-shirt?

There was a body.

Curves.

Thick thighs that filled out those tight jeans like they were sewn on. Soft hips. Small waist. And that ass… perky, round, and bouncing just enough with each step to drive a man insane.

Normally I was into the classic blonde beach bunny look — lean legs, thigh gap, tan skin, lip gloss.

But Kennedy? She was built like trouble. Real trouble.

And she pulled it off in a way that made it hard to look away.

The shirt she wore dipped just low enough in the back to show the soft curve of her lower back, a sliver of porcelain skin peeking out when she turned too quickly. Her hair fell in messy dark curls down to the middle of her back, bouncing slightly with each step. She smelled faintly like coconut and something warm, maybe vanilla.

I could already tell she hated me. That tight glare, the way she wouldn’t meet my eyes for too long, her stiff posture — all of it screamed do not mess with me.

And honestly? I didn’t blame her.

She’d had the top floor to herself, and now I was here. A stranger. Some guy invading her space and stealing her privacy. I got it.

Still didn’t change the fact that she had one hell of a body. Or that it was going to be hard as hell not to stare.

Especially if we were sharing a bathroom.

When we got to the top floor, she gave me the rundown — her room on the left, mine on the right, bathroom in between. She rattled off her little rules like she’d rehearsed them in her head before I got here.

No touching her stuff.

No messes.

No crossing lines.

And that last one — don’t come into her room unless invited — came with enough heat in her eyes to make me wonder what she was hiding in there.

I gave her my best cocky grin and said, “As you wish… princess.”

The way her eyes narrowed? Worth it.

She didn’t say a word. Just turned and walked away with that same sharp strut, her hips swaying like a slow pendulum daring me to look again.

And I did.

Because I’m only human.

I stepped into my new room and took a slow glance around.

It was basic, sure — but nice. Queen-size bed, dark wood dresser, clean cream-colored walls. Everything looked polished, fresh. The bed was made military-tight, probably by Kennedy’s hand. Nothing was out of place. Like it was waiting to be staged for a magazine shoot.

I dropped my duffel bag onto the bed and rubbed the back of my neck, rolling my shoulders. Still tense. Still not used to the quiet.

The bathroom door caught my eye.

I pushed it open and stepped inside.

I don’t know what I was expecting — maybe pink soap, makeup caked around the sink, hair straightener cords, scattered beauty products like most girls I’d lived with during college.

But this?

Spotless.

The floor gleamed. The glass around the shower was crystal clear — not a single smudge or watermark. The soaking tub looked like it had never even been used. A his-and-hers sink setup spanned the marble counter, and everything on her side was perfectly aligned: toothbrush, soap, small makeup bag, cotton rounds in a jar. Minimal. Tidy. Clean as hell.

Not even a single hair.

I stepped closer and stared at it, almost amused. She had rules, alright. But she also clearly had a system. Her space was sacred, and she ran it like a fortress.

I smirked.

So she’s a control freak.

Noted.

I could already imagine how fun it would be to push her buttons — just a little. See how fast that calm, icy exterior cracked.

Still… I had to admit, I respected the organization. Girl had standards.

And that made her different.

A loud voice echoed from downstairs — Mom’s.

“Dom! Dinner!”

I sighed, letting my fingers tap lightly against the cool edge of the sink before turning around.

So much for peace and quiet.

But I had a feeling living here?

Yeah.

That was never going to happen.