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“I’m not laughing,” he says, still standing painfully close to me, his nose nuzzling against the top of my head. I close my eyes as goose bumps break out across my arms and down my spine.
“Dom.” It’s a plea from the deepest parts of my heart. He can’t do this to me, not now. Not like this.
He’s just afraid of losing me. That’s all this is. He might think he means it, but I know him—sometimes better than he knows himself—and I would never survive him making this real and then getting bored with me and wanting that party-boy-no-strings-attached lifestyle again.
He steps back and I open my eyes, laser focused on the action happening on stage. We don’t speak for the remainder of the concert, but I can feel his large presence next to me the entire time, the tension growing with every second. By the time the show ends, my heart is racing and my nerves are lit up like it’s the damn Fourth of July.
We walk quietly through the throngs of people and out into the cool Los Angeles night. The car we came in is parked out front, our driver waiting for us. He opens the door when we get closer, and Dom puts his hand on my back to usher me inside. His palm is scorching through the thin fabric of my shirt, and a hot pulse beats between my legs.
I need us to get back on solid ground. ASAP.
Two cold water bottles are waiting for us in the back seat, and I quickly pick mine up and down half of it.
“Thank you for tonight,” I say into the deafening quiet of the car. I glance over to find Dom staring out the window, his reflection becoming clear as we pass under streetlights. There’s a pensive look on his face, and that slight furrow to his brow that looks sexier on him than it’s ever looked on anyone else. I start to question if he even heard me when he finally responds.
“You’re welcome, but you don’t have to thank me for doing something nice for you. It’s the least of what you deserve.” He turns his head, pinning me with his crystalline eyes. “You deserve to be spoiled every day, cherished every night, and loved every second in between.”
I swallow thickly, afraid to speak and one hundred and fifty percent certain he can see my pulse hammering in my neck. I don’t know how to respond. Honestly, all thoughts have been completely obliterated with that one sentence.
How the hell am I ever supposed to get over this man when he says things like that?
He rotates his body to face me as best he can with the seatbelt hindering him. “I have a lot to make up for, but you were unhappy with how things were. I heard you when you admitted your feelings, and you know I’m a guy who needs time to process big things like that. Just like I know you need time to adjust to change, especially when it’s not a change you’ve planned for or fully believe is real.” He leans closer, and I find myself leaning toward him. “But I can assure you, this is real.”
He drops his gaze to my lips a split second before we both surge forward, our lips meeting in a hot kiss. His thick fingers slide into my hair, holding me tight to him as he plunders my mouth with salacious and toe-curling strokes.
I don’t know if I believe him, but I know he’s right about one thing.
This kiss is real—maybe the realest thing I’ve ever experienced. And it tempts me like nothing else could to throw caution to the wind.
Twenty-Two
It took every ounce of self-restraint to drop Laney off at her place last night without following her inside and ravishing every inch of her.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex—especially since Jen Summers’s husband walked in on us before we actually did the deed—but even through my horny, lust-filled haze, I knew crossing that line right now when she’s still set on pushing me away would be a bad idea.
She doesn’t trust this—me—but she will. I’ll prove to her I can be the man she’s waited for.
I also know she needs some space. Laney thinks she knows me better than I know her, but she’s wrong. I’ve made a study of her since that first group project in high school. I know when to back off so she doesn’t double down with her stubbornness.
Which is why I’m heading to Ty’s house today instead of going to her place like I really want to.
Ty answers the door with a smile on his face. He’s the most affable guy I’ve ever met, and he totally fits the Canadian stereotype of a nice guy—something I’m sure his mom who still lives in Vancouver would be happy to hear. He can kick ass on the field and tackle hard, but then he’ll get up and offer you a hand and a pat on the back with a sincere apology.
“Seems everyone had the same idea today,” he says as he opens the door wider so I can step in.
“What do you mean?”
But before he answers, Romel walks from the kitchen to the living room with a beer in one hand and another that he passes to Gabe sitting on the couch.
I glance back at Ty, who just shrugs. We both head toward the living room, with Ty diverting to the kitchen to grab a beer for himself and a water for me, then we sit on the chairs across from the couch where Romel and Gabe sit.
“You guys wanna play a game?” Ty asks. “I’ve got Clue.”
It’s become a tradition for us in the offseason to have game night once a month, and somehow instead of playing something cool and sophisticated like poker, we ended up playing board games. Clue just so happens to be one of our favorites.
We move to the dining room table and get settled in our seats as Ty goes to his game closet—yes, he has an entire closet filled top to bottom with various board games.
“I’m surprised you’re not with Kay today,” I say to Romel, referencing his two-year-old daughter. Romel’s wife, Sydney, died from cancer shortly after Kaylee was born. It fucked Romel up big-time, but we had his back and helped pull him through the worst of it. Now, he spends every spare second with that little girl; she’s his whole world.
