Chapter 9: Simmering Silence
619 Words
Elena rushed into the back hallway behind the kitchen, needing air, space—something to cool her down. The break room door shut behind her with a soft click, and she leaned against the wall, chest heaving.
She hadn’t expected to see him. Not here. Not in her world.
She hadn’t expected her thighs to ache just at the sight of him, either.
Then she heard it.
The quiet creak of the door.
She didn’t even have to turn. She felt him.
His heat. His presence. The slow, heavy steps of a man who always got what he wanted.
Her breath caught as Dominic’s arm slid beside her head, palm braced against the wall. His chest hovered just inches from hers.
“You really thought you could slip back into your little world and I’d let it slide?” he murmured.
“Dominic—”
His mouth crashed down on hers.
It wasn’t soft.
It was possession.
He grabbed her waist, lifting her slightly so her back hit the wall and her feet barely touched the floor. Her apron bunched between them, her name tag pressing into his chest like a challenge.
“God, you taste the same,” he growled, lips dragging down her neck. “Like sugar and sin.”
Her hands clawed at his shirt, needing something to hold onto as his fingers slid beneath her skirt like he had every right.
“You’re mine now, waitress or not,” he hissed into her ear. “Mine to kiss, to touch…”
His hand dipped lower.
“…to ruin.”
She gasped as his fingers found her—already wet, already begging.
“You missed me,” he whispered, nipping her throat. “Your body did, at least.”
She whimpered, trying to muffle it. But he caught her chin, forcing her to look at him.
“Let them hear, Elena.”
Her knees buckled.
He didn’t stop.
One hand held her steady while the other drove her insane, teasing and claiming in the dark.
No bed. No silk sheets. Just him and a wall, and the kind of need that didn't care where they were.
And when she broke—when she cried his name and melted in his hands—he kissed her like a man who never planned to let her go.
“Next time you run,” he said against her lips, “I won’t just chase you…”
“I’ll take you where you can’t hide.”
Elena leaned against the break room wall, heart racing, lips swollen from his kiss, her pulse still thundering in her ears.
Dominic said nothing.
He just looked at her—dark eyes burning through every inch of her. Like he owned her.
And maybe... maybe he did.
She tightened her apron, hands trembling as she stepped back into the kitchen.
He didn’t follow.
He just watched her go, jaw clenched like it physically hurt to let her walk away. Like every second he wasn’t touching her was a test of restraint.
Back on the floor, she tried to pretend nothing happened.
But her coworkers noticed the shift.
The way she moved slower. The way she flinched when anyone called her name. The dazed, faraway look in her eyes.
Out the corner of her gaze, she spotted him—still in that booth, still sipping coffee like he hadn’t just destroyed her in a hallway.
She brought the check to his table without a word.
But he didn’t take it.
Instead, he slid a black card across the table, and with it, a folded napkin. No name. Just a number.
And five words scrawled in bold, male handwriting:
“You’re not done with me.”
- Writer
