Page 63 of Hard Bargain

Possession flared through Dominic’s chest, making him take a step closer until only inches remained. “Are you sure that’s a good thing?”

Knox didn’t flinch. “I don’t feel like I’m suffocating when I’m with you. Your world makes me forget how much mine sucks. That’s what I needed tonight. That’s why I called you.” He pressed his lips together, like he hadn’t meant to say that much.

Something dark and territorial settled in Dominic’s gut. He stepped in until there was almost nothing left between them. “You think that’s what this is?” he asked. “A distraction?”

“I don’t know what this is,” Knox admitted. His hand slipped from his face, the ice pack forgotten.

Dominic moved before he could stop it, fingers coming up to Knox’s jaw—careful of the bruise, but firm enough to hold him still.

Knox’s breathing shifted immediately.

Dominic’s thumb brushed beneath the swollen skin. Not quite soothing. Not quite claiming. “You think I just hand out my time?” he murmured.

Knox shook his head.

“What will you do for it?” He didn’t know why he’d asked. It wasn’t a question he’d planned. It hung in the air between them and changed something. He still didn’t take it back.

Knox’s throat worked once. “Tonight?” he said, voice stripped raw. “Anything.”

Dominic held his gaze and saw no retreat there.

Knox meant it.

The urge to test the answer rose immediately, to find the edge of it, to see how far Knox would actually go once the line was drawn.

“Take off your clothes,” he said.

Knox’s mouth opened. Dominic didn’t give him the space to use it. “Start with the shirt.”

A muscle jumped in Knox’s throat. Then his fingers found the hem of his shirt and dragged cotton up over his head, dropping it somewhere beside him. The overhead light caught the pale freckles scattered across his chest, the tight pull of muscle along his ribs. He stood with his arms at his sides, breathing fast.

Dominic watched the rise and fall of his chest until his own lungs started to hurt. He stepped back, folding his hands behind his back so Knox wouldn’t see them shake.

“Jeans,” he ordered.

Boots came off first. Then metal clicked and denim hit the floor. He hesitated in his black briefs, heat already climbing up his neck.

“All of it.”

Briefs dropped. Knox straightened, arms loose, fingers flexing like he didn’t know where to put them. His cock was hard, and Dominic’s gut twisted at the sight.

He held Dominic’s gaze. That was the thing about Knox. He always held his gaze.

Dominic couldn’t breathe.

He let his stare map every plane of Knox’s body—the bruise on his cheek, the faint tremor in his thighs, the line of his cock. Heat moved through him, searing and embarrassing in its intensity.

Submission. That was all this was about. Proof Knox trusted him enough to fracture in front of him. That was the whole explanation. Dominic filed it away and sat down.

The leather chair was low. He spread his legs and felt his suit trousers pull tight across an ache he had no intention of acknowledging. “Touch yourself.”

Knox’s hands trembled—just for a second—before he wrapped one palm around himself and inhaled sharply on impact. Dominic watched the muscle at Knox’s jaw jump with each slow stroke. He was getting harder by the second, flushed, swollen.

“Slower,” Dominic said.

Knox’s pace dragged down to something painful. His hips twitched, chasing friction he wasn’t getting. A drop gathered at the tip and smoothed the glide, and Dominic felt it like something struck directly against his spine.

He shouldn’t want this. He was aware that he shouldn’t want this. His cock throbbed against his zipper and disagreed. “Look at me,” he said.