There was something about the way he looked at her that made her wish she remembered. Remembered something, anything about the man before her. She was at ease in his presence, which spoke volumes, but that wasn't the same as a memory. She wished she would remember any of the time they'd spent together; the moments they'd shared. What she would give for a memory of something-her previous life a void.
His arm tightened around her hips as he laughed at something Brian said to Jack. The never-ending debate of what the child would grow up to drive. She knew if Dom had any say, there would be a grand piece of American muscle coming together within the walls of the old garage before the child was five. Though she anticipated there would be regardless, judging by his affection for such vehicles. She settled farther back into his broad chest if possible.
She inhaled his clean scent and he looked up at her, eyeing her sigh with concern. She gave him a warm smile in return, which seemed to ease any worry that may have crept up. He kissed her bare shoulder, and a set of butterflies swarmed through her stomach.
Something about this man gave her extreme comfort, like they'd been together for years. If one could even call what they currently had as being 'together'. More like 'getting to know one another', though he knew everything about her. She was at a far disadvantage. But getting to know him wasn't a bad thing, more of an adventure of sorts.
Finishing her beer, she began to stand in search for another. She looked down on him, catching his soft eyes. "Would you like another too?" She asked, giving him a sassy smile. He grinned broadly, the smile reaching his eyes, and then some.
"Please," he responded. His voice got her every time, the depth and tone of it. Made her knees a little weak. She wouldn't share that secret though, for fear of coming off vulnerable. Exactly what he made her. She made her way to the cooler, pulling out two Mexican beers, popping the top off each. She was glad to be done with English brews, they weren't her style she'd realized. The light, crisp taste of a cold Corona fit her to a tee. She wandered slowly back to the table, taking in the scene before her. Her family. The family she never knew she had. She was thankful.
He found her settling into her room, Mia's old bedroom. He hadn't wanted to push anything on her, the fear of pushing her away, losing her again still very real. Her long, dark hair was wet from her shower, one of his white tee shirts laying loose against her thin frame, meeting a pair of dark blue sweat pants Mia had left behind. He'd seen her fresh from a shower so many times….and it was hard for him to not lay his hands on her, to pull her in and to not let her go. He leaned against the frame and took in what he could with his eyes, silently. She folded clothes on the full bed, lost in her own world.
He was at ease with her in his home, back in his life. He had missed her so, so much. When the prospect of her being alive had presented itself…there was no way he could not have taken the bait from Hobbs. After all, if he hadn't left her behind…his mind could no longer go there, because that wasn't his reality anymore. This was his reality. He stepped forward, his bare footed step making the old hard wood creak. She turned quickly, as if ready to pounce. He stopped.
"Easy, babe. Just me." He gave her a relaxed grin and could see the tension leave her shoulders immediately. She let out a breath.
"Sorry," she spoke sheepishly. "I'm still getting used to my surroundings." She turned back to the clothes before her as he moved up beside her, grabbing a shirt from the pile of clean laundry and folding it.
"Understandable." He waited a beat before speaking again, his voice coming out in a deep purr, "That's my shirt, by the way." His statement was laced in laughter, but also carried a serious tone. She stopped what she was doing and peered up at him, caught off guard.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize…it was in the pile and I just.." he cut her off with a chuckle, folding another shirt. She looked down at the way it hung against her and sighed, rolling her eyes. "I guess it's not exactly my size," she gave a cheeky smile. He peered over at her slowly, an eyebrow raised.
"It looks much better on you." He had to restrain himself from grabbing her up, showing her how much he'd missed her. She bit her cheek, redness creeping into them. The blush rose in the apple of her cheek, and he couldn't help but find her beautiful. God, he'd missed her face. He took a breath, picking up a pair of small cotton shorts, giving them a once over. "As would these," he passed them to her as she rolled her eyes again, folding them and placing them in the proper pile.
"You wish," her tone was sassy and he let out a laugh with a self-deprecating nod. They finished folding silently, enjoying each other's company in the quiet of the old house. She placed each pile neatly in its drawer. Dom sat down on the bed, clasping his hands together. He rested his elbows on his knees, watching her move about the room.
She felt self-conscious as he watched her, his eyes settled on her intently. She felt like she was a caged animal's prey, the way his dark orbs took her in. Admittedly, she'd do the same if roles were reversed. She'd watched him all night. There was something about his strength, his demeanor that commanded respect, and yet offered up a comfort she couldn't get enough of. Protective was almost the right word. But nothing had happened for her to need protection since they'd been home. But knowing he could definitely provided content. Though she didn't doubt her own abilities. She laughed a little to herself, and he cocked his head curiously.
"What?" He spoke softly, eyeing her and she made her way to sit next to him.
"Nothin'," she replied, shrugging, "You're staring at me." She looked over at him, their faces almost level with one another. She could feel his breath against her shoulder, and she shuddered.
"Sorry," he responded, his eyes making their way up from her shoulder to her eyes, "I can't help it." He slid a still-wet curl behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheek just slightly. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to kiss him. Was it possible they could move so fast? She knew he knew every inch of her being, but she wasn't sure she was ready to re-learn his just yet.
"Don't apologize," she answered, her head tilting into his touch. She dropped her eyes from his for a moment, just taking in the feel on his hand against her hair. "How old was I when we met?" She inquired, catching his eyes again. The smile and fondness she found there told her more than his words.
"Fifteen. The night you got that scar," He reminded her, his voice so low and husky, she felt her insides wind up like a toy car. His hand slid over the scar he spoke of, sending chills through her body.
"Our first kiss?" She practically whispered, her eyes sliding between his lips and his eyes. His hand slid onto her thigh, the other sliding over her soft hair, as he inhaled her sweet, clean scent.
"Sixteen." He impulsively nuzzled her neck, sliding under her soft mane. She inhaled sharply, closing her eyes at the feeling of his breath against her neck. Her heart raced. She couldn't help herself….
"Where were we?" She felt him smile against her skin as the question left her lips. He was enjoying this game, relishing in the fact he knew all the answers, and could tell her anything she wanted to know. He knew everything about the woman before him. Their history was everything to him.
"In my car, after I'd won a race," he moved to the other side of her neck, the butterflies in full bloom in her abdomen. He nuzzled her neck, pressing a soft, slight kiss to the side of it. Their fingers became intertwined on her thigh, she gripped his hand harder than she'd intended. He looked up to catch her chocolate eyes, searching them, asking them. "You were always my trophy." She locked eyes with him, her gaze intense as she stared back at him, taking his expression in, one of concern and question. Want lay somewhere under the surface, as he kept it under control, afraid of what she might do if he made the wrong move.
"Your trophy, huh?" She whispered the words, as his hands tentatively slid to her hips, his thumbs running gently over the soft skin they found between the soft cotton of the clothing.
"Yeah," he practically purred, sliding her to face him fully on the bed. She waited for him to make his move, her heart racing under the light fabric of his shirt. He brought his forehead to hers, searching for resistance. Her hands found his large, bare biceps, his white wifebeater not leaving much to her imagination. She could feel the strength and muscle below her fingertips. He was a force of nature, built like a tank. She imagined he could easily toss her around like a rag doll. She imagined he probably had. What she'd do for those memories.
"Dom," the sound of his name on her lips broke his resolve, as he gently crashed his lips into hers. She wasn't unprepared, accepted his kiss and kissed him back, her mind running wild as his fingers sunk into the skin on her hip, his other hand finding its way up to cup her cheek. He nibbled gently on her bottom lip, and she could feel the electricity coursing through her. She sucked on his in return, and the groan she received against her mouth would have made her knees buckle had she been standing. Instead she practically melted into his muscular chest, and he gladly rescued her, holding her tight against him, one arm wrapping around her petite waist, his other hand tangled in her dark hair.
The kisses were intense and they continued for far longer than either had intended. He couldn't get enough of the feel of her under his touch; she couldn't get enough of his hands on her, everywhere, the way his lips ravaged hers. The man knew exactly what she wanted. Eventually he came up for air, reality suddenly hitting him, realizing he'd just pushed faster than he'd intended on her first night back in his house. "Let," he whispered against her lips, slowing her movements. Her hands slid over his bald head as she took in the feel of his skin under her fingers, sliding down his cheeks. He grinned at her, taking in her swollen lips and flushed cheeks. "One memory at a time."