25.

TWENTY-FIVE

Rafael

I’m in Dominic’s living room working on my laptop, or at least trying to, when he walks in. I get up from the couch and walk to the edge of the living room area, but I don’t try to approach him. He looks angry, but I don’t think that’s quite it.

He doesn’t say anything as he walks up to me. I brace myself for violence, but when grabs me, he pulls me into a fierce, desperate hug. His arms squeeze so tight that I can’t breathe, and mine wrap around him with equal ferocity. His face presses hard into my shoulder. Mine presses hard into his.

Even though he’s upset, even though I’m upset, some of the noise in my head quiets down. It’s been a rough hour waiting for him. Noah already texted me that Dominic was out and unharmed, but I don’t like that I was waiting here, sitting out. I don’t like that we were apart.

I put one hand on the back of his head, trying to tell him that it’s okay, that I’m here, that he can take his time. That I love him.

Fuck, I really do. I fucking love him.

He relaxes into the hug and eventually draws back. He doesn’t look at me, but that’s okay. I don’t let him get out of contact with me though. I touch his elbow, his hip, anything I can.

“I want to shower,” he says.

“Alone?”

“No.”

A warm feeling blooms in my chest. I take his hand. “Come on.”

We don’t talk much in the shower. We both get a little hard as we wash each other. It’s impossible not to with our hands sliding over each other’s bodies. We end up in another embrace under the rain of warm water. Our cocks are brushing, thickening against each other. It feels weirdly good to let my body respond to him, to feel his respond to me, and to not feel like we have to do anything about it.

I wince when his fingers brush my ass, which is already stinging from the water. He draws back and turns me to look at the red stripes. I dread hearing him say he’s sorry or that he went too far. I don’t want him to ever hold back when I need something, or when he does.

But he’s only looking. And when he speaks it’s to ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I turn to face him and look in his dark eyes. “Are you?”

“It was harder than I expected. But, yeah. I’m okay. Now.”

“So we just wait?” I ask.

“We just wait.”

My heart skips at the idea of what’s pending, what we’re waiting for. Maybe it shows on my face, but Dominic’s usual, dominant manner starts to return. I see it in his body language as he turns off the water. I hear it in his voice when he says, “We need to eat.”

Ten minutes later, both dressed in warmups and t-shirts, we go out to the kitchen. Rocco, who is something like Dominic’s bodyguard, or at least tries to be, is standing in the kitchen unloading takeout boxes.

“What the hell is this?” Dominic demands.

Rocco shrugs. “I don’t trust delivery. I had the restaurant downstairs put this together.”

“You can’t just—”

“Yes, I can. And I’ll be bunking with the security staff.”

Dominic scowls. “We’re still going to have that conversation.”

“Yep.” Rocco looks between the two of us. “But I’m guessing not tonight.” He picks up one of the boxes. “Thanks for dinner,” he says, and walks off through the pantry to the service door.

“I like him,” I say.

“He’s a dick.”

“I think he cares about you.”

It seems to take Dominic aback, as though that never occurred to him. I shake my head and go to see what’s for dinner.

“Wow,” I marvel as I discover beef stroganoff and several vegetable dishes. “And chocolate mousse.”

Dominic is frowning.

“What? Do you not like this stuff?”

“No, I do. It’s some of my favorite food, but … I’m just surprised, I guess.”

“That he knows what you like?”

“Yeah.”

Dominic gets out plates and cutlery. While we eat the stroganoff and sides at the island, I observe, “I’m glad you don’t do the dining table thing either.”

“I fucking hate dining tables.”

His vehemence surprises me. “Really?”

“Really,” he confirms bluntly, and that’s all the answer I get. Then he asks, “You know what I really like though?”

“What?”

“Eating dessert in front of the TV.” He frowns and says in a tone of realization, “You don’t have a TV.”

“I find it hard to sit still that long. I usually watch stuff on my phone or tablet so I can move around.”

“Huh.”

“But I’ll sit with you.”

“You’re having trouble sitting. You’re uncomfortable.”

Because he whipped my ass, he means.

“The couch was better than these chairs,” I tell him.

“Then let’s move.”

Dominic gets up and grabs the containers of mouse and some spoons. He sets them on the quilted leather coffee table that doubles as a footstool. He plunks down on the black leather couch. Something about the way he opens his body on the side closest to me, his arm on the back of the couch, his eyes expectant, has me lying down instead of sitting. The way he pulls me toward him until my head is in his lap feels so fucking right. I sigh and relax as his hand settles on my chest.

After a while, he asks, “Are you in love with Dante?”

“No.”

He looks down at me, frowning slightly. “But you’ve had sex with him.”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

I sigh and sit up. I draw up one leg and hook my arm around it. Dominic’s frown deepens. He doesn’t like my body language. He doesn’t like that I’m not answering.

But this is hard to talk about. Even Dante and I have never talked about it. I’m not sure we ever will.

“We … started. Once. It didn’t go well.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I ended up crying on the floor and he threw up,” I answer sharply. “But before we got to that point, we almost fucking killed each other.”

Dominic’s frown deepens. “Because you wouldn’t yield to him?”

“I couldn’t . Shit with Dante didn’t work. Aspects of it were right. Some things about us fit. But it didn’t work . It didn’t feel right because …”

“What?” Dominic prompts. “What are you thinking?”

“I just realized something from talking about this.” I shake my head. The truth feels so weird and surprising but somehow, now, obvious. “I was never myself with him. It didn’t stand out to me because I don’t think I’ve ever been myself, not fully, not deeply, with anyone —until you.”

Dominic’s face shows just how hard that hits him, how much that means to him. He blinks a few times.

“So will you stop being jealous?” I ask. “Because I don’t want to be with anyone but you. Ever .”

“Fuck,” Dominic gasps. He starts pulling at me even as I’m crawling back to where I started with my head in his lap.

I turn onto my side, so I can hang onto his leg. He holds onto me too.