Page 127 of Hard Bargain

Dominic’s pace turned vicious. Knox’s moans climbed higher, his world narrowing to sensation. The solid desk under him. Dominic’s heat behind him. The pounding rhythm building until it was all he could feel, all he could hear, all he was.

“Look at you,” Dominic snarled. “Begging for it. Taking everything.”

Knox’s fingers clawed against the wood. He was close, teetering on the edge. Dominic’s hand circled his throat again while the other reached around and fisted Knox’s cock.

Knox sobbed.

The first stroke nearly finished him. Knox shook beneath him, inhuman sounds pouring out of him. Almost. Almost.

“Come for me,” Dominic ordered. “Let me feel you clench around me.”

Knox shattered.

He convulsed, spilling hard into Dominic’s hand, a broken cry tearing out of him as his body clenched around the hard cock driving into him. Dominic groaned—raw, almost pained—his hips snapping fast, burying himself deep as he followed, both of them shaking through it.

For long moments neither moved. Ragged breathing was the only sound in the room. Then Dominic eased. Slowly. Knox whined at the loss, his body trying to hold on. Dominic’s hand stroked down his spine before he dealt with the condom and came back.

He gathered Knox upright against his chest. Gentle hands settled the trembling in Knox’s thighs, smoothing over his skin, grounding him. His thumb traced slow circles against his hipbone.

Gentle. After all that. Gentle.

“Better?” Dominic murmured against his hair.

Knox leaned against him and closed his eyes. He couldn’t find his voice, only managing a breathless nod.

The gray was gone. Reduced to ash by Dominic’s fire.

Chapter 33

Dominic

The knife moved in steady strokes as he sliced through a bell pepper. The pan was heating behind him, oil shimmering across the surface before he tipped the vegetables in, the scent rising instantly. Bread went into the toaster next.

What the hell am I doing?

The question had been circling since he’d stepped into the kitchen. Knox was still asleep in his bed—his bed—while he was making breakfast.

For him.

He dragged a hand down his face as he stirred the vegetables. He’d made decisions that shaped entire territories, that dictated the rise and fall of men who thought they were untouchable. He had never hesitated. Never second-guessed.

But this? Standing in his kitchen at seven in the morning making eggs for a boy asleep in his sheets felt reckless in a way he didn’t have a word for. It wasn’t the kind of reckless that got people killed, but the kind that slipped under your guard. Personal. Dangerous in a way that couldn’t be solved with a phone call or a bullet.

He cracked the eggs against the edge of the pan with more force than necessary.

“Didn’t take you for the domestic type. Who’s the second plate for?”

Dominic’s hand stilled. His irritation flared—not at the question, but at himself. He hadn’t heard Cassian come in. That didn’t happen. “Cassian,” he greeted.

His cousin walked in the way he always did: uninvited and entirely too observant. He leaned against the counter, taking in the scene with a knowing look that made Dominic want to throw something at him.

“Eggs?” Cassian tilted his head. “Is that bacon too?”

Dominic shot him a look. “Don’t touch that.”

Cassian grabbed a piece anyway, biting into it with a grin. “You’re cooking for someone and you’re territorial about bacon? Who are you, and what did you do with my cousin?”

Dominic turned back to the stove, sliding the eggs with the spatula. “What do you want?”