Emma's POV
I dream about his hands.
Not in a way I can explain to anyone, certainly not to Lily who would make it into something and then never let it go. Just his hands. The way they move when he's thinking, slow and deliberate across a surface. The way he held mine on the ultrasound table. The way his thumb moved once across my cheekbone last night was something that required careful handling.
I wake up at six with that specific ache of wanting something you're not sure you're allowed to want.
He's already up. I can hear him on a call in his office, low and serious, the work voice. I lie there and listen to the cadence of it without the words and think about what he said last night.
*I notice all of it.*
The problem with Dominic is that he means things. Every word is load-bearing.
