Page 41 of Loss and Damages

His scent is scrumptious, the rasp of his whiskers against my skin makes me wet, and desire swirls in my belly. I wrap my arms around his neck, my legs doing the same around his waist. He doesn’t ask if he can come in, simply opening the door to my cottage and carrying me to the bedroom.

Seconds later I’m flat on my back, my panties gone, and he’s inside me, without a condom. He feels so good it brings tears to my eyes and they drip down my temples. He moves furiously, a hand under my butt and the other knotted in my hair.

He mutters gibberish in my ear, something about missing me, but I can’t ask him to repeat, can’t ask him to slow down. I’m as feverish as he is, my hands under his shirt, my nails clawing at his back. He pushes his cock forcefully into me, my muscles clinging, begging for more.

I’m close, and I know he is too, his moans turning into grunts and a mumbled, “Fuck, not yet.”

Untangling his hand from my hair, his rhythm turns tender, and he helps me, his fingertips to my clit.

“Dominic,” I whisper, meeting his eyes.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, and the delicate way he captures my lips with his in a sweet kiss pushes me over the edge. I come hard, the orgasm sparking through my body, and all he needs is one deep thrust to finish himself off, his cock pulsing in time with my panting.

We slowly come down and he holds me tightly, his breath hot and ragged against my neck.

He settles his weight on top of me and under his shirt, I wrap my arms around him, his skin damp. I’m still wearing my sundress and sandals, and he’s completely dressed, his pants sagging around his hips.

He doesn’t pull away to look at me or talk, finding pleasure in holding me after weeks apart.

I brush the hair away from his face and whisper, “Hi,” into his ear. He’s still hard, and I rest my leg over his, the skirt of my dress bunched between our bodies.

“Hi, yourself,” he says, and hides his face against my neck, his nose rubbing against my jaw.

We lie like that for a long time, until his cock softens and slips out of me in a warm gush of cum. Mine and his. “I shouldn’t have had you without a condom. You’ll tell me if I make you pregnant?”

That’s touchy ground. I hadn’t thought much about what I would do if Dominic gave me a baby, but I can say that telling him wasn’t high on the list. Not with the way he left things, at least. I can support myself and a baby without his help. I wouldn’t need him. Not for that.

Rather than lie, I ask my own question. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you. I’m so tired, Jemma.”

I drag a pillow from the head of the bed, and we share it while we talk. “Things aren’t going well.”

“No. Yes, but things are . . . when did life become so complicated?”

I don’t want him to mean when he fell in love with me. My love shouldn’t be a complication.

Choosing my words carefully, I say, “Sometimes when you want the wrong things, life can seem complicated. When your heart and your instincts tell you to stop, but you keep going for other reasons, you know?”

“What if I have to do the wrong thing to earn the right thing?”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. The purchase of the homeless shelter, maybe, or maybe something more personal.

“Then you have to ask yourself if what you think is the right thing is really the right thing. Are you talking about me because I was friends with Leo?”

“No.”

Relief rushes through me and I fall silent.

I don’t want to be a wrong thing. I want to be his right choice.

He closes his eyes and dozes and I memorize the sharp planes of his face in case he disappears on me again.

The past few days have been hard on him, and I smooth my finger over the new lines that bracket his eyes and the downward slope of his lips that are in danger of turning into a perpetual frown.

I don’t want to interrupt our quiet moment, but my stomach rumbles. I’m hungry, and I usually eat around this time.

“I’m keeping you from dinner,” he says, his eyes fluttering open.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. You caught me just as I was closing up.”

His eyes grow hazy as he stares at me, and he props his head on his hand. “I should feed you.”

“That would be nice.”

He sighs. “A question first, if you don’t mind?”

“Okay.”

“Has someone ever given you an ultimatum?”

“Ultimatums come from people who don’t know how to compromise, or they think what they believe is right over everyone else’s wants and needs.

My brother told me he doesn’t want me to see you anymore, and if I do, he won’t let me spend time with my niece.

I suppose you can consider that an ultimatum, but I don’t think he was serious. He’s not like that.”

“What if he was like that? What would you do?”

“What’s this about?”

“I can’t tell you or you’ll only tell me what you think I want to hear.

I want to know what you would do. If I asked you to marry me right now, would you say yes?

If I said, ‘Jemma. I love you more than I thought I could ever love anyone. I never want you to leave me. Marry me.’ With what your brother said to you, what would you say? ”

I want to hear those words, desperately, but because of the way things are, I know what my answer would be.

I get off the bed, find my panties on the floor, and pull them on.

I’m wet and could use a visit to the bathroom, but I want to answer him first. “I can’t lie to you, Dominic.

The reason he doesn’t want me to see you anymore is because of the way you do business.

The 1100 block, Oakdale Square, and Nick told me yesterday there are rumors you’re looking into buying the biggest homeless shelter in St. Charlotte.

I agree with my brother, and if you were really proposing, I would only say yes if I could convince you to do things differently. ”

“Then you would choose family over love.”

“I would choose my moral compass over your love and the love I have for you. Some things are easy to overlook, like not holding the door open for the person behind you or not tipping enough, though those things can be small issues that turn into bigger problems. If he asked me to stop seeing you because you’re rich or because he didn’t like that you’re Italian, then I would tell him to fuck off because those things don’t define who you are. ”

He sits up and holds out his arms in invitation, and I step between his thighs. He’s in so much pain, and I wish he’d tell me why.

“What if we didn’t work out?” He cups my face in his warm palms and brushes his thumbs over my cheeks. “What if you told your brother to fuck off, and then we didn’t work. What then?”

“I’d rather be alone. It’s easy to say that, but if my brother was that unkind and unreasonable, I wouldn’t want to be around him anyway. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

He nudges me closer, and I step forward until my thighs are pressed against the edge of the mattress. “Would you believe me, right now, if I told you how much I love you?”

It’s in his eyes, it’s in his touch, and I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure, but that doesn’t mean you would choose me. I don’t know what’s going on, but if you have to walk away, I told you in my letter that I wouldn’t blame you and I wouldn’t hate you. I meant it.”

Tears fill his eyes, and I wrap my arms around his neck, sliding my fingers through his hair.

His arms circle my back, bands of steel where I feel safe, not trapped.

He won’t let anyone hurt me. Not his mother, not his father, not anyone opposed to the way he runs his business.

I would never be looking over my shoulder like Jeremy said because if Dominic chose me, there would be no reason to.

He would change, if he asked me to marry him, but I know, somehow with my woman’s intuition, he won’t.

His embrace loosens, and I brush a kiss over his mouth. “I love you, too.”

“But that doesn’t mean you would accept my proposal.”

“We can’t control who we fall in love with, but I’d like to think my heart wouldn’t choose poorly. You know I don’t agree with your plans for the 1100 block and Oakdale Square, but you never explained why you’re doing what you’re doing. Maybe it’s not my place to judge.”

“I don’t deserve you.” His voice is low and sad.

“I think out of anyone in St. Charlotte, you deserve me most. Especially if you feed me.”

“Can we visit Edgar?” he asks, standing and zipping up his pants.

I tip my head and smile. It doesn’t lighten his features, but I don’t think I have the power to do that. Maybe one day, but not today. “That would be perfect.”

Before we walk into town, I change out of my dress and into a cotton skirt and a sleeveless blouse. I have plans for us after dinner and I carry a backpack that’s stuffed with a blanket.

We don’t speak as we amble along the water to Leo’s favorite restaurant, and Dominic’s reflective and tense while we eat on the rooftop, sitting at the same table we did the first time I brought him here.

I’m not the kind of person who needs chatter, and I let him be during our meal.

I try not to obsess about the conversation we had in my bedroom.

He didn’t propose, and if I wasn’t so sympathetic and wanting to help him, I would have thought him cruel for giving me the hypothetical scenario.

I didn’t tell him I would say yes, either, so maybe he’s smarting, too.

It’s too quick, I tell myself, pushing around a bite of lasagna I don’t have room to eat with my fork.

I don’t know him well enough, and he would have to open up a lot more than he has before I’d even consider accepting a proposal.

My heart might be telling me he’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, but my head needs proof.

“Are you ready?” he asks, frowning at the food I have left on my plate.

“Yeah.” I wrinkle my nose at him. “You can pay this time.”

He laughs, and it eases my heart. “Finish your wine.”

There’s a park a few blocks from the bar and grill that I wanted to go to, and we walk down the sidewalk, our fingers tangled together.

Though there aren’t any children playing, I choose a spot away from the playground and spread the blanket out near a tree.

I lie on my back, and he settles on his side, his head propped in his hand, his other resting on my belly.

I wonder if he’ll think about babies now until I tell him one way or the other, or if I’m just being stupid, hoping he cares more than he does and it won’t matter to him, whether he gets me pregnant or not. He said he wants to know, but what he’d do with the information I could only begin to guess.

“I’ve never done this before,” he mumbles against my lips.

“What? Made out under a tree?”

“Went to a park, spent time outside.”

“Your mom and dad didn’t bring you to the park?”

“My nanny would have brought me, but my father didn’t think playing outside was a good use of my time,” he says, wiggling a little closer. “I’ve been groomed to take over the company since I could talk.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“Because it was. I did all my father asked of me, and still do. Since Leo had our mother’s attention, I’ve done everything I can to keep our father’s eyes on me.”

“Even now?” I lick at his lips and taste salt and beer.

“Even now. Especially now.”

“Why?”

“He’s asking me to do the impossible. I don’t want to let him down.”

“Are you talking about the homeless shelter?”

“Yes. He wants the land, and I can’t tell him no. I don’t want it, Jemma, we can do without it, but he’s testing me.”

He rests his forehead against mine, and I lay my hand on the nape of his neck, his hair tickling my skin.

“What would it cost you to fail?”

He lifts his head and stares at me, his dark brown eyes drilling into my soul, demanding why I would be foolish enough to ask.

“Everything.”

I pull him down to my chest, his heart beating rapidly against mine.

Praying he doesn’t hate me, I whisper, “Are you sure?”

The sun starts to set, and we walk back to my cottage, our fingers linked.

He didn’t blow up the way I thought he would, but he did stop speaking in favor of kissing me.

I couldn’t complain (and didn’t), but I knew what he was doing.

In the middle of an earth-shattering kiss, he looked over my head into a copse of trees and said, “We need to go.” I don’t know what he saw, but he quickly pulled me to my feet, folded the blanket, and we were across the park before I could object.

I needed all my patience and trust not to ask. If he wanted me to know, he’d tell me.

Expecting him to turn me down, I ask if he wants to stay and have coffee and dessert, but to my surprise, he accepts, and we sit on the porch, our conversation in fits and starts as the stars appear and the lake water brushes the shore.

When my plate’s holding only a few crumbs of vanilla cheesecake and my coffee cup’s empty, I stretch and say, “I should probably go to bed.”

Dominic’s slouched in his rocking chair, his eyes closed, his foot gently pushing him back and forth. “Are you asking me to leave?”

I thought he would want to. “Don’t you have to work?”

“Not at this minute.”

I huff a laugh, pleased he’ll share my bed for a little while. “Then you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

He sits on the couch and flips through the Hollow Lake Gazette while I straighten up, do a few dishes, and fill the coffeemaker so I don’t have to do it in the morning.

He offers to do something, but I wave him off.

He’s a guest and doesn’t need to help me putter around.

I like having him in my cottage, and I caution myself.

This isn’t permanent. We’ve talked a lot about babies and marriage, but he’s never given me any promises, any indication that this is somehow going to be a long-term thing.

I have to keep my expectations at a minimum. At least then I can’t get hurt.

He climbs into bed naked, and after brushing my teeth and the snarls out of my hair, I follow.

I’m not opposed to some middle-of-the-night lovemaking, but we really will end up with a baby if we don’t start using protection.

We need to talk about his lack of using condoms or I need to take responsibility for my own body and make a gynecologist appointment, but we’ve already had sex once today and when he wraps his arms around me, I eagerly let him have me.

I fall asleep, my head on his chest, his fingers twisted in my hair.

He wakes me at seven, still in my bed, and despite all the warnings I’ve told myself, hope blooms in my heart.