Page 27 of Laced With Secrets

“Tell me you want this,” Dominic demanded, his hands sliding higher.

“Yes.” The word came out desperate.

“Say it.” He hissed.

“God, yes, I want?—”

His mouth crashed into mine, muffling my words. The kiss was consuming, claiming. His tongue swept into my mouth as his hands explored with single-minded focus, relearning every line of my body.

When we broke apart for air, his palm spread possessively over my stomach, over the barely-there swell that held our child.

“The apartment in Blake’s building,” he murmured against my lips. “We’re moving in this week.”

My brain struggled to shift gears. “What?”

“You need a safe space. Our space.” His thumb traced the small curve of my stomach. “We’ll go back and forth between there and the shop once I know it’s secure.” He kissed me again, slower this time, deliberate. “And once the investigation is over…”

“Once it’s over?” I prompted breathlessly. “We’ll stay here too?”

“And I’m going to take you to my place in the mountains.” His voice dropped, intimate and promising. “The one with the massive stone fireplace Blake mentioned. I’m going to lay you down in front of a fire and make love to you for days.”

The image he painted—Dominic and me wrapped in blankets, firelight painting his skin gold, nothing between us but heat and need and time—made my breath catch.

The shop bell chimed from the front room.

We froze, breathing hard, pressed together in the dim storage room. Dominic’s hands were still under my shirt, my fingers tangled in his hair.

“I thought you locked the door,” I managed.

“I did.” His expression shifted from frustrated desire to alert wariness. “I definitely locked it.”

The bell chimed again, more insistently.

“Stay here,” Dominic ordered, already pulling away, straightening his shirt.

“It might be a custom?—”

My stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly.

Dominic’s mouth quirked. “We’ll deal with whoever that is, and then I’m feeding you.”

“I’m fine?—”

“You’re hungry.” His hands cupped my face. “And our baby needs food. So yes, we’re dealing with this, and then I’m getting you exactly whatever you’re craving.”

The craving hit me the moment he said it. Sudden and specific. “Monte cristo. From Fifth Street Deli. With raspberry jam on sourdough. And salt and vinegar chips.”

“Done.” He kissed me once more, quick and possessive. “Two orders?”

I blinked at him. “How did you?—”

“Figured you’d want enough for later. For home.” His smile turned smug. “I’m learning, baby.”

The bell chimed a third time.

“Right,” Dominic muttered under his breath. “The intruder.”

He straightened his clothes one more time, ran his fingers through his hair, and opened the back room door. I followed after taking a moment to compose myself, tucking in my shirt and trying to control my breathing.