Dom (Alliance, #3)

by S.J. Tilly

“Was having sex with me a part of the plan?” I ask the question before I can chicken out. I need to know this part, too. “From the first moment I saw you, I wanted to fuck you.”

But fucking you in the airport? No, that was just a happy bonus.”

I scoff. “You expect me to believe that I’m really your type?” I didn’t want to say that. Didn’t mean to voice it. But Dominic made me feel so good about myself. He made me feel sexy in a way I never had. Made it so I wasn’t constantly worrying about what angle he was looking at me from. But ever since it all went to shit, I can’t stop those insecurities from screaming at me.

“Shorty.” He flattens both my hands against his chest and forces me to walk backward. “Look at yourself next to me. You’re hardly big.” My back bumps into the door. “And yeah, if you really want to know, you’re my fucking type. I live in a hard, unyielding world. It’s nice to come home to something soft.” He uses his grip on me to lower one of my hands, sliding it down his stomach. “I already told you—from the first moment I saw you, I wanted to fuck you.” My palm connects with something hard. “And if I thought you’d let me, I’d fuck you right now just to prove it.”

“W-when was the first moment you saw me?” He’s said it twice now. But I wasn’t really listening. I assumed he meant when we met at the airport. He tips his face down toward mine. “Last December. You were all dressed up for your work Christmas party, and I followed you from the L to your office building.”

I don’t even know what part to be more stunned over. The fact that a dangerous mafia man was following me and I didn’t know, or that he hasn’t slept with another woman since then. “Yeah, Val. I followed you, and you had no clue.” Dom rocks against my hand one more time, then steps back with a groan. “We’re going to work on your situational awareness.”

“It seems the only person I really need to protect myself against is you.”

“I’m not reckless, Valentine. I will come home tonight. And I will try to come home every night. But if something happens to me, Rob is the one who will come and get you.” “Get me?” I croak as my mouth goes dry. I can’t even make myself hate Dominic, no matter how much he deserves it, so I definitely don’t want him to die.

“For the record, I haven’t forgiven you. I understand why you did what you did. But it was shitty, Dom. It’s all super shitty. And you should have warned me about the funeral. You should have warned me about everything.” All the feelings from earlier war inside me. “I don’t deserve this.”

“You deserve better.” He strokes his thumbs up, then down. “But you’re mine now. And I’ll always keep you safe. Someday you’ll accept that.”

I stare at the four Dominics circling my finger, making a point to avoid looking at the Til Death below my nail. I can’t believe he did this to me. Seriously, can’t believe it. And I can’t believe I’m not more angry about it.

Then I got into my comfiest sweatpants, and because it looked soft, I pulled a Yale sweatshirt off one of Dom’s hangers and put that on, too.

So, of course, then I did a search for The Alliance. Which led to a text from King asking why I’m looking them up online.

“You scared me,” I accuse. He grins. “That mean you’re happy to see me?” I narrow my eyes. “I was worried it might be an axe murderer. So, sure, I’m glad it’s you instead.”

Dom trails off, and I follow his line of sight to my chest. “Hmm, I like that.” I pluck at the fabric. “You like me covered in your baggy clothes?” “I like you covered in my alma mater.”

“You went to Yale?” He stalks around the bed toward me. “Yeah, all the go...

“I didn’t know Ivy League offered gangster studies.” Dom barks out a laugh, and I hate it. Because I wish he did it more often. “Dammit, Valentine,...

“You liked me once. You will again.”

He sits on the mattress next to my hip. “Give me your finger.” I hold up my middle finger. “Cute.”

Dom holds up a small jar I hadn’t noticed in his grip. Only the dim ceiling lights are on, but I recognize the white jar and blue lid. Since I’ve always been fascinated by tattoos, I’ve looked up all the prep and aftercare. And I believe that’s an ointment used to keep your tattoo looking nice.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but this tattoo isn’t exactly something I want. So keeping it pretty isn’t really a high priority.”

Dominic looks like he’s trying not to smile, but he fails. “Two things,” he repeats. “One, what’s worse? Having a tattoo you don’t want, or having a tattoo you don’t want that also looks bad?” I don’t give him an answer. “And two, I bet that dainty little finger of yours is sore. This will help.” He shakes the jar.

Because I don’t want to discuss that, and because my finger does hurt, and because—fine, he’s right—I don’t want the tattoo to heal poorly and look even more dumb than it already does, I pull my hand out from under the blanket. “I’m still mad,” I tell him. “I know.” “This wasn’t okay, Dom.” His eyes narrow the slightest bit,

“I can do it.” My jaw clenches. I don’t want him taking care of me. Dom sets the jar on the nightstand. “I’m doing it.”

I brace myself, but his touch is so light it doesn’t hurt at all. It… feels good. Soothing. Bastard. It would be better if this hurt. If I could be angry over him causing me pain.

“What…?” I sit up and shove at Dominic’s arm. “What is that?” His shirt is unbuttoned, and he runs his ointment-covered fingers across his neck one last time before he lets me push his arm down. “Dominic!” I gasp. “You were right, Angel. It’s only fair.”

“Just the one?” I ask, not able to help myself. “But it’s big.” Dom smirks. “And size matters.”

I stare at the giant name tattooed across the base of his neck. My name. Valentine. In big black letters. Not able to stop myself, I reach out and trace the...

“I still don’t forgive you.” My finger slides down the center of his chest, stopping on the skull. “You shouldn’t.”

“There wasn’t room to add Til Death next to your name. So I had to find somewhere else to put it.” Speechless, I stare as he pushes down the waistband of his boxers to his hips. I don’t even notice that the patch of hair trailing down from his belly button has been shaved. I can’t possibly focus on that. Because there, right above Dom’s cock—like directly above the base of his fucking cock—are the words Til Death. Big block letters to match his Valentine.

“You’re insane.” I almost laugh at the absurdity of it all. Except I’m too turned on to laugh. I want to trace the letters on this one, too.

The look on Valentine’s face makes every second I spent under the needle worth it.

I know I haven’t done enough to earn another taste of her sweetness. So I won’t take it. Not yet.

“It’s been a long day.” I drag my hand up my length, squeezing even tighter just below the tip. “And if you run, I’m chasing.”

Her outfit, head-to-toe thick cotton, shouldn’t be sexy. But she’s already squirming, and it doesn’t matter what she’s fucking wearing because I’m ready to blow just from looking at her.

“I hate you,” she pants. And it makes me smile. “You don’t.”

And it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Even better than the first time. Better than Vegas. Because this time, she knows who I really am. She knows who I really am, and she still let go. And even if I didn’t lay a finger on her, she still gave herself over to me.

Fuck, she tastes like home.

She grips my arm with her left hand, and the sight of my name inked on her skin makes me groan again.

“I’ve done bad things, Valentine.” I brush my lips over her pinkened cheek. “But I’ll always be good to you.”

The weight across my back and hip and leg seems to get heavier. My brain is still surfacing from sleep, but I recognize the feeling of Dominic sprawled across me.

I crack my eyes, wanting to see if the sun is rising, but all I see is Dom’s big hand in front of my face. His arm is draped all the way over me. His chest expands against my back as he takes a deep inhale, and my hair ruffles when he lets it out.

Dominic’s hand slides out of view, and then he finally lifts himself off me. Mostly. I start to question what he’s going to do when something presses against the back of my head. “Morning, Angel.” I’m too stunned to react, thinking he’s caught me awake. But then he climbs off the bed, and a moment later, the bathroom door shuts. Did he do that thinking I was still asleep? Why?

Five people are on the call, including Bri, the woman whose bachelorette party I blew off so I could get drugged and subsequently married to Dominic.

“When I last saw you, I didn’t know I was moving.” “That was Friday.” Bri shakes her head. “It’s Tuesday.” The other designer, who I’ve met before, laughs. “Well, to be fair, I decided Saturday night.” I take a bigger sip of coffee. “But that was only after I got married on Friday.”

“Shut up!” she practically shouts. “Please tell me it was to that hot-as-fuck man who picked you up.” I grin despite myself. “That’s him.”

“Yeah, wedding pics, please.” Bri nods. I have to work to keep the smile on my face. I don’t remember anything about the service. Nothing more than slivers of seconds. And before I can think about what I’m saying, I admit, “I don’t know if there are any photos.”

“Remember that whole drunken marriage thing? I didn’t exactly plan this.” I ignore the pang in my chest as I say that. It’s not a lie. I didn’t plan any of this.

“I married Dominic Gonzalez.” The other designer has her coffee cup against her lips, taking a drink, and I watch as she jerks, sloshing dark liquid down her shirt. The girl who was ready to search him on LinkedIn has her hands still hovering over the keyboard, not typing. And Bri… Bri’s mouth is all the way open.

Bri clears her throat. “Jesus Christ, I thought he looked familiar.” I lift my shoulders. “He’s really nice.” I want to hit myself. He’s really nice. What a dumb thing to say about a crime lord.