REINA
It had been over two hours since we left the laundry room.
The washer and dryer had finished their cycles, clothes were folded and put away, and somehow we’d ended up on the couch like this—me tucked tight against Domenico’s side, my head on his chest, one of his arms draped heavy over my shoulders. The other hand never stayed still. It slid up and down my thigh, fingers tracing lazy circles over the thin fabric of my shorts, sometimes dipping under the hem just to brush bare skin.
Every time he did it, my stomach tightened.
We’d picked some random Netflix movie. I don’t even remember the title. Something with a lot of slow camera pans and moody lighting. I wasn’t really watching. I was too busy feeling him.
His thumb kept stroking the inside of my thigh, higher each time, un
