Chapter Thirty-Three
"Where do you see this relationship going?" I ask, wrapping my arms around my mug.
"Down the aisle, hopefully."
"Be serious," I admonish, taking a sip of my hot chocolate and immediately burning my tongue.
We're at my house. The same one Brad and I leased together.
I know it's a little weird, but I managed to get an extension on the lease, and Dom gets awfully twitchy whenever I bring up buying my own place. Every time I mention house hunting, he starts making weird comments like what’s the rush and the market’s not great right now.
That's part of the reason I wanted to have this conversation.
I know it's a little fast by normal standards, but Dom and I were never really normal.
If we're doing this again, I want to know we're on the same page.
"I am serious," he says softly, like he's afraid of waking Sophie, who's asleep upstairs in the nursery.
I study him over the rim of my mug. "When do you plan that?"
"When you least expect it."
I roll my eyes. "Sure. I'll act surprised."
His grin widens.
"Now, to the main issue." I take a smaller sip. "What if you get scared again?"
The grin disappears.
"Babe-"
"No." I shake my head. "You said there's a chance you could be deployed again. What happens when you’re made aware of your mortality again and decide to dump me to spare me the pain? Because I promise you, I will not go easy on you next time."
"The chance of me deploying again is one in a hundred," he says. "And I've spent enough years in enough places to know I'm mortal." His gaze stays locked on mine. "I promise you, Benny, I’m not letting you go again."
"Okay." I try to keep a serious face, but a smile keeps slipping through. "Just to make sure. Why'd we break up again?"
"Because I was a coward," he answers immediately. “I let the best damn thing in my life go."
"Hmm." I nod thoughtfully. "Good answer."
He smiles proud.
"And what about children?" I ask eventually. "Do you want more... or any?"
"Well." He leans back against the couch. "I was perfectly content with the Army being my only child."
I snort.
"But I think I'd rather like another one."
I don’t even try to stop the smile that spreads across my face at that.
Another. Not one. Another.
Like Sophie already counts. Like there was never a question.
"You know I can't..." I trail off.
He doesn't make me finish.
"There's more than one way to build a family." He shrugs. "We can adopt. Foster. Whatever feels right."
I stare down into my mug.
Just long enough to gather the courage for my next question.
"What about your mom?"
He sighs. Of course, he knows exactly what I mean.
Deena Mitchell has been suspiciously quiet ever since Dom and I got back together.
I don't even run into her around town anymore.
"She's gotten pretty involved with her church," he replies. "She's not the same woman she was back then."
Back then. Neither of us needs to explain what that means.
"But she's not exactly like your mom either."
I smile at that.
No one is.
"She won't mind?" I ask quietly. "You know... not having biological grandkids?"
He shakes his head. "No. And even if she did, she doesn't exactly get a vote."
That earns him another nod of approval.
"And you live on base." I try to sound casual. "I'm assuming you're gonna wanna cohabitate before asking me the question when I least expect it?"
"I would like that," he agrees.
"Where?" I ask, pulling an imaginary piece of lint from my sweater.
Dom studies me for a moment. "Well, I am having a house built. With a pool and a garden."
I blink, feigning surprise. "Really?"
His smile widens. "Of course. Why else would I show you the place?"
I shrug.
"You just never brought it up again."
"It got exhausting," he admits. "The work stalled because of permit issues, but it's started again and..." He trails off, a hopeful smile tugging at his mouth. "Hopefully soon."
"I would like that very much." I say trying to sound like the idea of a garden isn’t giving me butterflies.
"Great," he says, smiling.
"It won't be so great when all my stuff starts clogging up the closets."
"You're tiny. How much stuff could you possibly have?"
"Tiny?" I repeat in outrage. "You're just inhumanly tall. I'm the perfect height."
"Yes, dear." My eyes narrow.
"Have you been spending time with my dad again?"
"We may have been texting."
My jaw drops. "When did that happen?"
He takes a big sip of his black coffee. No sugar. No cream.
Just sadness in a mug.
Seriously, why anyone would voluntarily drink that sludge when hot chocolate exists in the same kitchen remains one of life's greatest mysteries.
"Probably while you were kicking Simone."
My hand immediately reaches out to smack him.
"Oww," he groans dramatically. "I'm gonna have a bruise, you know."
"Fine. I may as well hit you again."
Launching myself at him seems like the logical solution. Unfortunately, Dom sees it coming. He catches both my wrists before I can make contact, then uses them to pull me straight into a kiss.
I make an offended noise against his mouth, mostly out of principle, but it loses a lot of credibility when I lean into him.
He lets my wrists go so he can grab a handful of my hair, tilting my head back to get a better angle. It’s aggressive. Dom was never this aggressive in high school. Back then, everything was tentative and careful. Now, he kisses like he’s on a deadline.
I shift my legs, trying to get closer to him, but the counter is in the way. I knock my knee against the marble hard enough to hurt.
"Ouch," I mutter against his lips.
He pulls back instantly, his hands hovering over my leg. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," I say, rubbing my knee. "Stupid counter."
Dom leans over to inspect it, brushing his thumb over the skin. It’s already turning a little red.
He doesn’t move his hand away. Instead, his fingers trace the edge of my kneecap, then drift higher, along the inside of my thigh.
"Is it hurting?" he asks, his voice dropping an octave.
"No," I answer, my breath hitching slightly.
I'm only wearing one of his sweaters and a pair of panties, and the way he's looking at me makes me painfully aware of it.
"Dom," I whisper, my breath hitching when his hand slides up the curve of my ass.
"Yes, baby?" he asks, his lips trailing down my neck.
My head drops back completely. "I... uh, I..."
I break off into a moan when his tongue traces the hollow of my throat. The sensation shoots straight down my spine, wiping out whatever coherent thought I was trying to form.
He shifts, gripping my hips to pull me flush against him. The marble counter digs into my back, as my thighs hover in the air but I couldn't care less. Dom'll never let me fall.
"Bedroom," he mutters against my skin, his voice rough.
"Hmm," I agree, reaching for the hem of his shirt and tugging it over his head.
"We can't do this in the kitchen," he reminds me.
But I don't pay attention, too busy tracing the hard plane of his chest with my tongue. My lips wrap around his taut nipple, tugging gently with my teeth.
"Hey," he says, pulling away.
"How do you like it?" I smirk.
Narrowing his eyes, Dom bends and throws me over his shoulder
"Bad girl," he growls.
My stomach hits his shoulder hard, knocking the air out of me, but I don’t fight it.
I just grab the back of his jeans to steady myself as he strides out of the kitchen.
The blood rushes to my head, giving me a perfect view of his ass as he walks.
It’s a fantastic ass. I might give him a pinch just for the hell of it.
"Put me down," I demand when he starts climbing the stairs.
"Shh," he replies, not pausing his stride.
I listen, mostly because I don't want to wake my daughter.
The air in the bedroom is cooler than the hallway. Dom steps onto the rug and then I’m flying through the air. I land on the comforter with a soft thud, bouncing slightly.
Dom doesn't join me immediately. He stands at the edge of the bed, eyes dark and fixed on mine. His hands go to his belt, the buckle jingling in the quiet room before he unsnaps it. Then the button, the zipper.
He shoves the jeans down his legs and kicks them away. His boxers follow. When they come down, his dick snaps up against his stomach, hard and thick. My mouth goes dry just looking at him. He looks bigger like this, almost painful. The skin at the tip looks tight and angry.
Dom stands there for a second, letting me look. The scars on his thighs are pale against the tan, old and faded. The ones on his face are newer. I want to trace them all, but he’s moving before I get the chance. He leans over the bed, bracing his weight on his hands as he crawls up my body.
"You're wearing too many clothes," he murmurs.
I raise my hips off the mattress when Dom grips the hem of my panties. He pulls them down in one rough tug. He doesn't stop there, reaching for the hem of my sweater next. I sit up slightly to help him, lifting my arms so he can strip it off me.
My nipples hit the cool air instantly, hardening into tight peaks. I shiver, as he settles between my legs, his hands gripping my thighs to spread them wider.
"I want to taste you," he murmurs, his breath hot against my inner thigh.
Not that I'm complaining, but this morning was about me too. I had two while Dom only got a rushed handy in the shower because we were running late.
Doesn't seem fair.
Before Dom's lips can make contact, I wiggle out of his arms.
He looks up at me, shocked, his pupils blown wide.
Gripping his shoulders, I shove him onto his back before climbing on top. He lets out a grunt of surprise but goes easily, his heavy body hitting the mattress. I don't give him a second to recover. My hands grip his dick, fisting the flesh before twisting up and down, slow and deliberate.
"Fuck, baby," he groans, his hips coming off the bed. He’s already leaking precum, the skin hot under my palm.
I lean down, my hair trailing over his thighs as I lick once from balls to tip. "You know, I've always wanted to try something," I say, looking him in the eye.
I close my mouth over the tip and suck hard, hollowing my cheeks.