Chapter 26 Dominic
Dominic
Hannah walks back to the house, taking slow enough strides that I have time to think.
Maybe you should keep an eye on things from inside?
One part of me, the one that’s still subconsciously busy with the shit Shane was saying at the station earlier, tells me this is crossing a line—a huge fucking line, at that. But the other part of me can’t find a single reason to say no.
I cut the engine, grab my phone out of the cup holder, and hop out of my car.
Hannah hovers by the door, her hands gripping the wood while her body gives me plenty of space to walk into the house. Once I’m in the entryway, the air between us thick with unspoken tension, she shuts the door with a soft but deliberate click of the lock, the sound hanging in the charged silence.
“Hungry?” she asks, and I shake my head, but my gaze betrays me, tracing her face, her curves—fueling an ache I can’t ignore.
Earlier today, I kissed her in this house. I slid my fingers into the soft and silky strands of her hair and gave in to the urge to press my mouth to hers.
And right now, more than anything, I want to do it again.
“Thirsty?” she questions, spinning on her heels to head in the direction of the kitchen.
I follow her lead. “No. I’m good.”
But when we’re both in the kitchen, her back resting against the large island in the center and my body directly in front of hers, silence stretches between us. The house is quiet as a mouse, and I can’t do anything but lock my gaze with hers as my mind races over what this all means.
Why did she ask me to come inside?
Why did I choose to come inside?
There are a million and one reasons I shouldn’t be thinking about the things I’m most definitely thinking about. And even more reasons I should take my ass right back out to my car.
But I just stand there, completely entranced by her. Completely fixated on her.
She digs her teeth into the plush flesh of her bottom lip, and my mind reminds me again of the kiss this morning.
It was impulsive and unexpected, but it stemmed from this deep, emotional connection to her that I’d have to be an outright liar to deny.
When it comes to Hannah, everything inside me wants to protect her.
To keep her safe. To have her. To love her.
“Okay, well . . .” She pauses, and her eyes flit to the ground for the briefest of moments before moving back to my face again.
I don’t know what she’s thinking or feeling right now, and I wish to hell I could get a read on her.
But it’s all so fucking complicated when I can’t even get a read on myself.
I want her, that much is obvious, but the circumstances around why we know each other in the first place should equate to her being entirely off-limits.
Her eyes are hesitant as they search mine, and she opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something, but the instant she shuts her lips, she pivots and disappears into the hallway that I know leads to her bedroom.
It feels like she’s gone for an eternity, even though it might only be a minute, but when she comes back, I don’t miss the stack of pillows and blankets she carries in her arms.
Before I know it, she’s shoving the fluffy mountain into my arms and nodding her head toward the couch in the living room. The one Sherry is always perched on watching never-ending episodes of NCIS.
“Good night, Dom,” Hannah says, her voice as soft as I imagine her curves would be if my hands had the pleasure of touching her.
“Good night, Hannah,” I answer, offering a smile and a nod in return. “Sleep well.”
“You too.”
Her bare feet tap across the hardwood as she heads back down the hallway that leads to her bedroom.
And I just stand there, like a fucking fool, shocked by my own disappointment in the anticlimactic end of this night and clutching the pillows and blankets to my chest.
I don’t know what I expected when she asked me to come inside. Truth be told, I wasn’t expecting anything at all. But I’d be an asshole if I didn’t admit a delusional part of me wanted to end the night with Hannah in my arms.
It’s fucked, I know. And I mentally curse myself as I walk over to the couch and drop the pillows and blankets onto the cushions.
Her reaction was the right one. No doubt about it. But my reaction? Well, it’s a clusterfuck of a million things I’ve been trying to avoid. Things I know Shane wanted me to face tonight at the station.
I try to tell myself it shouldn’t be a surprise that I’ve garnered some feelings for Hannah.
I mean, she’s beautiful, smart, funny, adorable, strong as hell, and the kind of special that I’ve never experienced.
She’s all the things I’ve searched for and a thousand other things I didn’t even know were possible.
She’s an enigma, and I’m the schmuck with a badge who was forced into close proximity to all her magic in the name of investigating a case.
I was doomed from the start.
I slide off my boots and socks and T-shirt, and even though sleeping in jeans is absolute shit, I choose to leave them on. Sleeping out here in my briefs while Hannah and her mother are a wall away feels like crossing another line, one I’m already too close to breaching.
Which is ironic, because the fact that I’m even in this house is the epitome of unprofessionalism.
I plop down on the couch, resting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. What am I doing right now?
Being an idiot, clearly. An idiot who is falling for the very last person he should be falling for. The thought grows nails and claws at my chest.
I’m all up in my fucking feels, damn near crawling out of my own skin, but the sounds of a door opening pull my attention from the floor to the bedroom on the opposite side of the kitchen from Hannah’s.
Sherry walks out, and the darkness from both the night and all the lights in the living room being turned off makes it hard to tell if she’s actually awake or sleepwalking her way around the house.
But when she stops in front of the couch, her eyes lock with mine, and it’s pretty clear she’s not sleepwalking at all.
“Hey, Tony,” she says, as if me sitting here in the living room shirtless near a pile of pillows and blankets is completely normal.
“Hey, Sherry.”
Once my eyes adjust to her figure in the dark, I quickly realize she’s standing in front of me in only her bra and underwear. Immediately, I avert my eyes, looking everywhere but directly at her.
“Ziva got that camera Gibbs wanted installed,” she says and even points toward somewhere in the kitchen. “You keeping an eye on it?”
“Yep.” I nod even though I don’t exactly know what she’s talking about. I can only assume that after what happened this morning, Hannah installed a new camera inside the house. If she did, I’m not surprised. That woman takes on the world to keep her mom safe. She’s amazing.
“Get any leads on the Port-to-Port Killer?” she questions, and because of my current research into all things NCIS, I know she’s referring to an episode in season 8, when DiNozzo has to track down a killer who murdered his old partner from his Baltimore homicide squad days.
And you’re questioning if you’re in too deep with Hannah? Ha. You’ve been watching every episode of her mom’s favorite show that you can find . . .
A part of me wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“No, Sherry,” I eventually respond, trying my best to answer her questions but still not look at her. “I haven’t. It’s a tough case, you know?”
“I think you need to recheck that autopsy report. I have a feeling something is off with it,” she comments, clearly remembering the details of that episode like the back of her hand.
Truth be told, it’s a typo in the original autopsy report that leads Tony DiNozzo to be able to track down the actual killer.
“Okay. I’ll be sure to do that.”
She pats me on the shoulder. “Keep your chin up, Tony. You got this.”
“Thanks, Sherry.”
“And get some sleep,” she adds. “You’re going to need it when you find out the Port-to-Port Killer has access to all of our internal records and computer system.”
“Will do, Sherry.”
She heads back to her bedroom, and I just sit there, wondering how in the hell I’m supposed to dig myself out of the deep trench I’ve managed to get into.
Because let’s face it, it’s not just a trench. It’s a damn canyon, and I’m already too far down to climb out.
My mind should be busy with work shit. Busy with the meeting Shane and I are supposed to have with Captain Leonard first thing Monday morning. I should be focused on making sure we can keep the CMA wiretap until the warrant is up.
I should be focused on that case and the other three cases I’m elbow deep in.
But there’s only one thing—one person—on my mind, and she’s currently mere walls away from me.
And although I wish I could just brush off my obvious feelings for Hannah, I don’t think I can.
I don’t think I can at all.