Dom (Alliance, #3)

by S.J. Tilly

Holy fuck-me eyes. I blink. Scratch that. Holy fuck-me everything.

“I got it,” I say, but I don’t even reach for the bag. Because I’m too busy staring at his tattooed fingers. Tattooed. Fingers. I almost mewl. But thank god I don’t. That’s a level of mortification I don’t think I could recover from.

The position flares his unbuttoned suit jacket out and stretches his white shirt across his torso. And sweet baby Jesus, those are definitely tattoos covering his body. Lord, help me. This is going to be the best and worst flight ever. It’ll be like sitting in front of a giant cheesecake but knowing you aren’t allowed to take a bite.

He’s wearing boxers. Only boxers. But they’ve ridden up. And sweet Jesus… His thighs. I knew they’d be strong and thick with muscles, but seeing them is different from sitting on them. Because they’re also tattooed. His juicy thighs are fucking tattooed. I’ve wondered how far down Dominic’s tattoos went. And now I know. They go all the way down.

This motherfucker.

“Four.” He leans closer. “One to replace every other dick you’ve touched.” I just blink at him. Every dick I’ve touched? When did I tell him how many men I’ve slept with?

“You went to Yale?” He stalks around the bed toward me. “Yeah, all the good schools were full.” “I figured you stole it.” I shuffle a step back. “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.

CHAPTER 35 Val I’m so fucked.

“Valentine, what are you wearing?” I stand from the couch. She looks down. “What’s wrong with it?” There’s a slight hesitancy in her tone that I don’t like. “Nothing’s wrong with it, Wife. You just look like the secretary in the beginning of a porno.” She narrows her eyes at me.

I close my eyes. “Jesus.” This poor fucking girl. Not being actively hated is her gauge for niceness.

Her tired fingers grip my sides. “But now you know.” “Know what?” We’re both whispering now. “That I’m not valuable.” I’m not valuable. Her words hit me with such force I can’t breathe. I hate the people who made her feel this way.

King opens the door wide, stepping back to let us in. “Come in.” Dom steps forward, not grabbing the bags. “Fuck you.” And then Dominic Gonzalez punches King Vass in the face.

“So, who is this guy?” the female voice I’ve never heard before asks. Before Nero can answer, I turn to Payton, who I’ve only seen in pictures, and hold out my hand. “I’m Dominic.” She places her palm in mine, even as I hear her psychotic husband growl. “But feel free to call me Daddy.” The man at her side darts forward and shoves me back, breaking my hold on his wife’s hand. I automatically step back, but he’s quick and already sweeping my feet out from under me.