Chapter 33 #2
Dominic exhaled, tension settling deeper into his shoulders. “I don’t know what it is.”
Cassian leaned back in his seat, studying him. Not with judgment, not even surprise, just taking it all in. “You know you can talk to me,” he said.
Dominic didn’t respond.
Cassian’s gaze shifted back to the road. “I don’t care if you’re fucking women or men. That doesn’t change anything for me.” A pause. “But you should be careful.”
That made Dominic glance at him.
Cassian didn’t look back. “You and I both know the world we’re in. It’s not exactly open-minded. People like to look for cracks. Anything they can use. Something different? Something they don’t understand?” He shook his head. “They’ll call it a weakness before they even think about it twice.”
Dominic’s grip tightened. “I know.”
Cassian nodded. “It’s two things,” he went on. “The obvious one. He’s a guy. That alone is enough for some people to start questioning your authority.”
“And the second?”
Cassian looked at him. “Don’t let people see you care about him.”
That hit differently than the first.
“That part’s worse,” Cassian said quietly. “Doesn’t matter if it’s a man or a woman. The second people think someone matters to you—that’s leverage. They’ll use him to get to you if they think it works.”
“I know,” Dominic said again.
But knowing it didn’t change the fact that it was too late to pretend Knox didn’t matter. That line had been crossed somewhere in the past few weeks, maybe even the first time Knox had looked at him with those stubborn eyes and hadn’t looked away. There was no going back to the other side of it.
He kept his eyes on the road, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. His mind was louder than the traffic.
Knox wasn’t ready.
Not for what was coming, or for the kind of attention Mercer’s desperation might bring down on anyone close to him. He exhaled through his nose. “How are the sparring sessions going?”
“Still once a week. The kid's improving.”
“He holding his ground?”
A smirk tugged at Cassian’s mouth. “Gets knocked down plenty. But he gets up every time.”
“Good. Means he’s not soft.”
“Oh, he’s definitely tough. Not a quitter. Stubborn as hell, too.” Cassian tilted his head, side-eyeing him with a faint grin. “Reminds me of someone.”
The corner of Dominic’s mouth twitched before he smoothed it out. “I took him to the range,” Dominic said.
Cassian raised a brow. “Yeah?”
“Basics. Grip, stance, breathing. He listens. Wasn’t bad.”
“Are you going to arm him?”
“Yes.” No hesitation. “I need to know he’s not defenseless if something goes wrong.”
Cassian leaned his head back. “That’s a big step.”
“So is being unprepared. I’ll get him his own gun. Train him properly. He’s not walking around unprotected. Not while I can do something about it.”
He should’ve done it sooner.
* * *
The heavy bag swung back hard and Dominic met it again, fist driving into the leather with force. Sweat dragged down his spine, muscles burning in a way that kept everything else quiet.
He heard footsteps behind him, growing closer. He slowed, letting the bag swing once more before it stilled.
Knox stood in the doorway. He must have just gotten back from Mendez. He looked… good. His shirt clung slightly, like he hadn’t cooled down yet. Hair a mess, sleeves pushed back, like he hadn’t bothered fixing anything before coming straight here.
Dominic didn’t move.
Knox’s gaze dragged over him—moving over his bare chest, over muscle still tight from exertion, following the line of sweat that ran down his stomach. There was nothing subtle about it.
Dominic felt it like a hand.
“Something you need?” he asked, voice roughened from the workout.
Knox blinked like he’d been caught. “Yeah—uh.” He stepped further into the room, biting his lip. “I heard you were here.”
Dominic grabbed the towel from the bench and wiped it across his face. “You heard right.”
Knox nodded but his attention wouldn’t settle. It kept drifting lower.
“What is it?” Dominic asked.
“I wanted to ask you something.”
Dominic leaned back against the bench, arms folded. “Go on.”
“I was thinking about inviting a few friends over,” he said. “To the apartment. Nothing big. Just pizza and games. I wanted to make sure that was okay.”
Dominic studied him. “Do you trust them?”
Knox nodded immediately. “Yeah. I’ve known them my whole life.”
“You won’t tell them anything about what you’re involved in?” Dominic asked.
Knox’s expression turned more serious. “No. I wouldn’t do that. I promise.”
Dominic held his gaze a second longer, then gave a small nod. “Fine. Have them over. They’re welcome here.”
Knox thanked him but didn’t leave. He lingered just inside the room like he’d forgotten how legs worked. His gaze lowered again, tracking the slow path of sweat down Dominic’s chest, following it over his stomach, and Knox’s lips parted.
“Something else?” Dominic asked.
Knox’s eyes flicked up. But they didn’t stay up. “No. Just—”
He didn’t finish.
Dominic watched every shift: the way Knox’s breathing had gone slightly off rhythm, the restless flex of his fingers at his sides, the movement of his throat when he swallowed. “Look at me,” Dominic said.
Knox’s eyes lifted, and everything he was feeling was right there—hunger, need, something bright and desperate burning behind those beautiful blue eyes.
Dominic pushed off the bench slowly and closed the space between them in a few strides.
Knox didn’t retreat. He just stood there, shoulders squared, jaw set in that stubborn way, but the hunger didn’t leave his expression. If anything it got worse the closer Dominic got.
Dominic stopped just short of him. Close enough to hear the small, involuntary hitch in Knox’s breathing. “What do you want?” he asked, voice like gravel.
Knox didn’t answer.
He moved instead.
His mouth found Dominic’s throat and his tongue dragged a slow line through the salt at his collarbone. The sound that came out of Knox—low, needy, almost a groan—sent something white-hot straight down Dominic’s spine.
God.
Knox’s tongue traced another line. Chasing the salt on Dominic’s skin like he’d been thinking about it for hours. That was the part that got him. Not just the contact, but the complete, unapologetic lack of restraint. The way Knox didn’t even pretend this was anything other than pure, animal want.
Dominic’s breath stuttered.
Fuuck.
Teeth grazed his neck. Then bit—not gentle. Dominic’s hand shot into Knox’s hair, anchoring him there, guiding the pressure. Knox’s hands were on him now, mapping the planes of his chest, fingers skimming slick muscle, nails dragging hard enough to leave red lines.
Dominic forced Knox’s head back and crushed their mouths together.
Christ. Nothing should feel this good.
Knox met every stroke of his tongue with equal ferocity, a moan spilling into his mouth that he swallowed whole.