In Love With Him

Chapter 17

Dominic’s POV

From the dining room window, I had the perfect view of the street. I was halfway through a glass of water when I saw them—Kennedy and Liam.

My grip on the cup tightened until my knuckles turned white.

Liam.

The golden boy of the school. Too-perfect smile, captain of the football team, straight white teeth that made girls giggle, and hair that somehow always looked styled even after P.E.

I watched him walk beside Kennedy, grinning like he had some kind of right. Then I saw it—he touched her. Just a light brush of the hand on her arm, but my body reacted before my mind even caught up.

My jaw clenched. I didn’t like it.

Not because of some protective big-brother bullshit. No. I didn’t like it because I knew what that asshole was thinking. What he wanted. He looked at her the same damn way I did.

And that was the problem.

The door opened a few seconds later. Max burst in like a mini tornado, his backpack flying to the floor with a thud, shoes kicked off in opposite directions.

Chaos.

Then Kennedy walked in behind him, shutting the door quietly, hanging her bag on the hook like she always did, and neatly slipping her shoes off and placing them on the rack.

Perfectly organized.

My lips twitched into a smile before I could stop myself.

That’s just how she was. Controlled. Orderly. The calm to Max’s storm. The calm to… my storm.

“Why are you smiling like that?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at me suspiciously. “Do I have something on my face?”

Her hand immediately flew up to her cheek in panic.

I quickly blinked and cleared my throat. “No. Just… Mom texted. They’re working late. Told us to order out. What do you guys wa—”

Max exploded into the kitchen like someone fired a starter pistol. “SPICY TAIWANESE!”

Kennedy groaned. “No.”

Max stopped dead in his tracks and spun around like a pissed-off raccoon. “Why not?!”

“You almost died last time,” she said flatly, crossing her arms.

“It was because I ate too much!”

She narrowed her eyes. “Max, I ate more than you and didn’t almost rupture an organ. Your body can’t handle it.”

Max squared up, chest puffed out like he was about to challenge her to a duel. “Taiwanese.”

Kennedy, refusing to back down, stepped toward him. “No.”

The air between them sparked. I leaned casually against the fridge, waiting for the inevitable.

And then it happened.

Max lunged.

He tried to put Kennedy in a headlock like he’d done it a million times—but she was faster. In one smooth move, she twisted his arm behind his back like a seasoned pro.

“OW—HEY!” Max yelped.

I raised an eyebrow. Damn.

Max somehow got one arm free and pinched her sideboob, a cheap shot.

“OW! That was my tit, fucker!” Kennedy snapped, swatting at him.

I nearly choked on my water, covering my laugh with a cough.

They grappled on the floor like two overgrown puppies, rolling and shifting, until Kennedy finally pinned him down, straddling him and holding his arms above his head.

“Give up!” she growled.

“Never give—never surrender!” Max yelled like a damn space warrior.

Then it happened.

Kennedy snorted.

Like, full-on snort-laughed—then coughed—and hovered her face over Max’s. “You leave me no choice,” she said in a deadly calm tone.

I knew what was coming.

The loogy.

“NO—NO—KENNEDY, DON’T—” Max shrieked, thrashing as she held him down.

She dangled a glorious, shimmering loogy inches from his horrified face. It wobbled dangerously.

“OKAY! OKAY! I GIVE!!” Max screamed, his voice cracking in sheer terror.

Kennedy sucked it back up and rolled off him with a victorious smirk, striding to the trash and spitting it out.

I clapped slowly. “That was… honestly kind of impressive.”

She turned, brushing her hands together like she just fought in the UFC. “So. What do you want for dinner?”

I tilted my head and grinned.

“Taiwanese.”

She blinked at me, deadpan. “You son of a—”

I smirked, walking off.

Behind me, I heard Max’s evil laugh. “YESSS.”

Kennedy’s groan echoed through the kitchen.

And damn if it didn’t feel a lot like home.

---

Kennedy’s POV

The food finally arrived. I grabbed the bags from the porch and carried them into the kitchen, barely getting them on the counter before Max nearly tackled me trying to rip them open.

“Jesus, Max! You’re gonna knock me over!” I swatted at him. “And FYI, I’m not rubbing cream on your asshole again when you’re shitting fire.”

He only laughed and tore into one of the cartons before bolting for the living room like it was the last meal of his life.

Dominic walked in just as I was handing out the rest of the food. Our fingers brushed—just for a second—but the touch made me inhale sharply like I’d stuck my hand in a socket. I pulled away too fast, grabbing my own carton and heading to the couch before I did something stupid like look at him too long.

Max had already claimed the remote and was mid-button-press when I snatched it from him.

“Hey!” he shouted. “I’m on the last season of Game of Thrones! You don’t even watch it!”

“Exactly,” I shot back, flipping through the channels. “You shouldn’t be watching it either.”

Dominic dropped onto the couch next to me, his carton in hand. I stopped on a zombie horror movie—something gory, dramatic, and distracting.

We ate mostly in silence, the sounds of the undead filling the room. Max devoured his food like a gremlin, occasionally mumbling something under his breath at the screen. When we were all finished, Max suddenly sat forward and shifted uncomfortably, then stood up stiffly.

“Oh no,” I muttered.

Max didn’t even answer. He bolted up the stairs and slammed the bathroom door shut behind him.

I smirked, folding my arms. “Told you so.”

Dominic chuckled beside me, his deep voice low and amused. “Guess you were right.”

We sat there, the movie playing in the background. I was trying hard not to think about how close he was. Not to think about how his leg was warm next to mine. Or how good he smelled—like soap, cologne, and something completely him.

Then, a jump scare flashed across the screen, and I gasped without thinking—instinctively shifting into his side, seeking comfort like muscle memory.

The moment I realized what I did, I froze.

Eyes glued to the screen, I told myself: Don’t move. Don’t look at him. Don’t make it worse.

But then… he moved.

Instead of pulling away, Dominic leaned in closer. His arm lifted, settling around my shoulders slowly. Hesitant… but intentional. His hand gently rested on my bare thigh.

My pulse stuttered. The heat of his touch seared through my skin. I didn't move. I couldn’t.

Then—like a featherlight flicker—his thumb brushed across my skin.

Slow. Deliberate.

I swallowed hard. My body started reacting on its own, breath quickening, legs shifting slightly—offering more space for his hand to explore. My thoughts were screaming to pull away, but my body…

His fingers traced the hem of my shorts, barely skimming beneath, slowly making his way to my inner thigh.

Every nerve in my body snapped to life.

I bit my lip, heart pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears. His touch was soft… but filled with so much weight. So much heat. So much want.

And then—

“Kennedy!”

Max’s voice tore through the moment like a lightning bolt.

I flinched. Dominic’s hand jerked back.

I scrambled up from the couch, my throat dry, my heart still racing. I didn’t dare look at him.

“I—I’m coming!” I called back.

Without thinking, I rushed to the stairs, barely breathing. I didn’t stop until I was at the top of the stairs.

What the hell just happened?

Did I imagine it? Was that real? The way he touched me—like he was reading every page of a book I didn’t even know I was writing. The way I didn’t stop him.

I pressed my hands against the railing, closing my eyes.

My lips still tingled… even though he didn’t kiss me.

But God—I think he almost did.

And the scariest part?

I wanted him to.