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When I finally make it back, I slam the door of my room behind me, already yanking at my tie. The rest of my rumpled clothes hit the floor in a haphazard trail as I make my way into the bathroom. I step straight into the shower, hissing as the too-hot water hits my skin.
Closing my eyes, I'm immediately assaulted by vivid images of Shiloh. The way her lips parted on a gasp when I backed her against that wall. The curve of her back as she arched into my touch. The breathy little sounds she made when I entered her tight little cunt…
My hand drifts lower of its own accord, wrapping around my cock. I'm fully hard again, aching with the need to relive every second of what we just did. It would be so easy to jerk off right here, replaying the scene until my balls are completely empty.
But I’m too angry. Too conflicted about the uneasy feeling that settled like lead in my gut when Shiloh forced me out of her house.
With a snarl of frustration, I wrench my hand away. I scrub myself clean with harsh, efficient movements, refusing to linger on any part of my body that still longs for her touch.
I dry off quickly, the scrape of the cheap towel souring my dark mood even further. After pulling on a pair of clean boxers, I retrieve Shiloh's journal from its pride of place on my nightstand. Soon, I’ll have to slip back into her house and switch it out for the next one, having made it through most of this year’s scribblings. Settling into the creaky bed, I flip it open to the latest entries that I haven’t yet studied.
September 5th, 2009
Dom called me shy girl outside school today, and now the nickname is spreading through my class. Why would he do that to me? I don’t know what I did to make him hate me so much. I wish Vivienne had never brought him here.
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd forgotten how much of a little shit I was back then, to an eleven-year-old girl who didn’t deserve it. Shiloh's messy handwriting continues, detailing every slight and prank with painful clarity.
September 15th, 2009
Dom put a carving knife in my backpack today. I screamed when I opened it in class, and everyone laughed. Miss Johnson made me stand out in the hall until I calmed down. I cried the whole time. Dom acted like he had nothing to do with it when I got home and told Dad. I don't understand why he has to be so scary. I could have really hurt myself on that thing.
I let my head drop back against the wall, suddenly reluctant to read any more. The guilt stirring in my chest is an unfamiliar sensation. I'm not used to caring about the consequences of my actions, especially not ones from over a decade ago. But seeing it all laid out in Shiloh's childish scrawl...fuck.
Maybe I was too hard on her.
Another cruel incident flashes through my mind. Shiloh, soaking wet and near tears after I'd pushed her into the creek by our house just when we were heading to school. I'd laughed sohard then, reveling in my power over her. In how much weaker she was than me. Now, the memory just makes me feel sick.
I toss the diary aside, scrubbing a hand over my face. This isn't me. I don't do guilt or regret or any of that touchy-feely bullshit. I'm Dominic fucking Blackwood. I take what I want, and I don't apologize for it.
But Shiloh...
She's always been different. Even back then, when I was doing my damnedest to make her life hell, there was something about her that got under my skin. Something that made me want to push harder, to see how far I could go before she broke completely.
And now? That sick obsession is back with a vengeance. I want to shatter her apart with pleasureandpain. I want to hear my name on her lips as she comes undone beneath me, just like she did bent over that couch.
I groan, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. It seems incredibly unlikely I’ll get the chance, after the way she freaked out while my cock was still buried inside her. But as I lie there in the darkness, all I can think about is the taste of her lips and the soft curves of her body pressed against mine. And I know I’ll do whatever I can to bring her around.
The shrill ring of my phone cuts through the silence, startling me out of my Shiloh-induced daze. I glance at the screen, my father's name flashing like a damn nuclear missile warning. For a moment, I consider ignoring it. But that would only delay the inevitable.
"What?" I bark into the mic.
"Dominic." My father's voice is sharp, all business. "Get back to New York.Now."
I scoff, settling back against the pillows for what will no doubt be a jolly little chat. "I'm on vacation, old man. Remember?"
"Vacation's over. We're pushing through the Hartley deal, and I need your...particular expertise."
"I made sure they understood the consequences of getting too ambitious in their negotiations," I remind him, flexing my fist at the memory. The satisfying crunch of bone beneath my knuckles and the way that pompous prick had whimpered and begged come flooding back to mind. "What more do you want from me?"
"I want you to do your job," he snaps. "Or have you forgotten your responsibilities while you've been off playing tourist?"
I roll my eyes, though I know he can't see it. "I haven't forgotten anything. But I'm not done here yet. I’ve more than earned this break and you fucking know it."
"Done with what, exactly? What could possibly be more important than the future of this company?"
The image of Shiloh, flushed and writhing beneath me, flashes through my mind unbidden.
"That's none of your business," I answer curtly, forcing my brain to stay on track. "I'll be back when I'm good and ready. The Hartley deal will go through just fine without any more input from me."
