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If she hears me, Shiloh doesn't respond. She just lies still, staring up at the ceiling with a dazed expression while I gently lower her knees back to the table. I tuck myself back into my slacks, admiring the view for as long as she’ll let me.
When I return from retrieving her cardigan around the corner, she still hasn't moved, and I have to stifle a low chuckle. She looks thoroughly fucked, and the animalistic part of my soul preens at the knowledge I'm the one who reduced her to this state.
I help her sit up slowly, carefully righting her clothes until her chest is covered and her cardigan is draped over her shoulders. She remains quiet as I take her hand, lead her back through the house and out to the car, seemingly lost in her own world.
As I slide into the driver's seat, I can't fight the urge to know what's going through that pretty little head of hers any longer. Her face is a careful mask of contemplation, brow furrowed slightly as she stares out the window.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Shiloh jumps a little when I speak, as if she’d forgotten I was here at all.
She takes a deep breath before answering. "I don’t know… You and me? It’s just…it’s just a lot to process,” she says softly. “I can’t shake the feeling this is all so wrong. I don’t want to be, but I guess I’m a little ashamed.”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel enough that my knuckles turn a stark white. “Why is it wrong?” I counter, unable to keep the sharp edge from my voice. “We’re notactuallyrelated. It’s not some gross crime for us to want each other. It’s not incest.”
She turns to look at me then, her wary eyes searching mine, for what, I can’t be sure. “You have a point,” she eventually relents… But I can still see the conflict swirling in those pale blue depths.
I want to reach out and touch her again, to pull her close and chase away all her doubts. But something in her posture keeps me at bay. She's curled in on herself, arms wrapped around her body as if she’s back on the defensive. Arguing the point further would only have her locking down, she needs to come to terms with this on her own.
I sure as fuck won’t let it be over though.
The rest of the drive passes in tense silence once again. I rack my brain for something to say, some way to pull her back from whatever turmoil she’s trapped in.
Once we pull up to Shiloh's house, I kill the engine and turn to face her fully. “Let’s go inside,” I say, already reaching for my seatbelt. “I’m sure I know a few ways to wipe that tortured look off your face.”
She shakes her head, reaching for the door handle without looking at me. “Not tonight, Dom. I'm tired and…confused. I just need to go to bed.”
Frustration surges up in my chest, laced with bitter panic. “You’re too in your head, Shy. Don’t talk yourself out of this like you don’t want it as much as I–”
“Not now,” she cuts me off, her voice firm despite its distant softness. “Please, I just need some time to think.”
I grind my teeth together, swallowing the fierce urge to argue. She's slipping away from me, I can feel it. I force myself tonod silently, to accept her decision even as every cell in my body rebels against it.
Shiloh opens the car door, pausing before she steps out. “Thank you for the flowers, by the way,” she murmurs, a ghost of a smile lifting her lips. “They’re probably all wilted in my car by now, but they were beautiful.”
Before I can answer her, she's out of the car and heading up the short path to her door. I watch her go, confusion warring with the lingering desire to follow her inside.
What fucking flowers?
I never sent her any flowers.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. Someone else is vying for her attention, trying to win what’s already mine. The thought of another man's hands on her, another man's lips against her skin… Fuck, it makes my blood boil. My hands clench to fists in my lap, and I stay parked long after Shiloh has disappeared inside the house, my mind racing.
Those flowers...Who the hell sent them? And more importantly, how am I going to make sure they're the last gift Shiloh ever receives from another man?
19
SHILOH
I pullinto the gravel driveway of Fairchild Manor on Friday evening, the tires of my recently resuscitated car crunching to a halt. It mysteriously showed back up to my house the morning after Dom and I soiled the library’s table, and while I was expecting my stepbrother to be with it… He was strikingly absent.
And that’s how he’s remained for a full week now.
Fishing out my phone, I pull up a message thread to him, my eyes flicking between my screen and the massive manor. I type out the first text I’ve sent him since that night, and hit the send button, wondering how Dom will take it.
ME: You missed the meeting. Melanie ordered us to start decorating tonight. It’d be nice to have some help.
Honestly, I wasn’t surprised that Dom was a no show tonight. I hadn’t really expected him to be there, since I hadn’t come crawling back to him. Melanie, on the other hand, seemed noticeably dulled by his lack of presence. Of course, shemanaged to cheer herself up at the end by insisting I come here and spend my evening decorating.
“I’ll need a good idea of what the final product will look like well in advance, Shiloh. Just in case I need to make anyadjustments.”The glint in her eye as she’d delivered her orders had me dying to makeadjustmentsto her smug face.
