Page 29 of Sweetest Sin (Tempting Love #1)

Peyton

I shouldn’t be enjoying myself. I shouldn’t be sitting in the pool—wearing a bikini that fits damn near perfectly, thanks to Dominick—while my son splashes around atop the ridiculously huge pizza floatie, but I am.

It’s beautiful outside. The sun is shining down on us with just enough cloud coverage to make it so that it’s not too hot. But that’s the good part about living in Florida. You can hang by the pool pretty much year-round.

Martha made us the most delicious, thirst-quenching lemonade and brought out an array of finger foods that Damien and I both love. And for the first time in forever, I have nothing to do but spend time with my son.

When I think too hard, a mini me appears, wagging her judgmental finger and telling me that I should be fighting back, demanding to leave. Giving Dominick hell.

But I’ve accepted that I don’t have a choice in being here.

The man is a force to be reckoned with, so rather than waste my energy being pissed at a situation that’s out of my control, I’m choosing to make the most of it.

And right now, that includes sitting on the steps of the cleanest, bluest pool I’ve ever seen.

“Mommy, look!” Damien yells, standing on top of the float and lifting his arms. “I’m a fishy!”

He dives off, screaming like the crazy little boy he is, at the same time Dominick steps outside. I glance up at Dominick just in time to see his eyes widen in shock. Before I can ask what’s wrong, he’s running toward the pool and jumping in.

Damien pops through the surface of the water and shakes his shaggy, overgrown red hair—which I’ve refused to get cut because I’m not ready to accept my little boy is growing up—just as Dominick reaches him.

He grabs Damien by the waist, lifting him out of the water, and out of shock, Damien screams, unsure who’s got him.

“What are you doing?” I ask, confused as to what just happened in the last fifteen seconds.

“Saving our son from drowning!” he barks, stalking toward me with Damien in his arms.

His hair is soaking wet, and droplets of water drip down the sides of his face.

As he walks up the steps, I can’t help but notice the way his white dress shirt, which is now see-through, clings to his front, outlining every muscle.

He moves Damien to the side of his hip, and my eyes zero in on each ridge that makes up his six-pack.

“Are you seriously eye-fucking me right now?” he hisses, forcing me to look up at his face.

“Ooh, you said fuck ! That’s a naughty word.” Damien giggles because he thinks it’s hilarious when an adult curses since I told him it’s not allowed after he came home one day and repeated something he’d heard.

I was always a rule follower. If my mom had told me not to curse, I would’ve listened and probably reprimanded anyone who did.

But my son seems to take after his father more than I’d like to admit. Not only does he have his gray eyes, but he’s also a rule breaker. He loves to push the limits, and he’s mischievous beyond his years. He’s daring and isn’t scared of anything.

“I’m sorry,” Dominick says to Damien, then turns his attention back to me. “Are you seriously eyeing me right now when I just had to save our son’s life because you were too busy focusing on me rather than him?”

It takes me a few seconds to wrap my head around what he just said, but once I do, I bark out a laugh. Everything now makes sense—him jumping into the water while still dressed in his work clothes because he thought our son was drowning.

“And now, you’re laughing?” he growls. “I just told my sister that you were a good mother. Maybe I should consider?—”

“Hey,” I bark, my laughter now gone. “I am a good mother.” I pluck Damien from his arms, needing to hold my baby boy.

“I’m such a good mother that when our daredevil son, at a year old, jumped into a pool without blinking an eye, I immediately enrolled him in swimming lessons, and he’s been swimming like a fish ever since. ”

“Yeah, I swim like a fish!” Damien agrees.

I put him down, and he swims back to his pizza float, scrambling to get back onto it. I wait until I know he’s safely on it before I turn back to Dominick.

“Don’t you dare judge me, and you should think twice before you make threats.” I glance at Damien to make sure he’s busy playing with the pool rings and isn’t listening before I continue. “My son is my entire life, and I would do anything to keep him safe.”

“Including keeping him from me,” Dominick adds.

“Including keeping him from you,” I agree.

We stare at each other for several seconds in a silent standoff, and while I appreciate that he jumped without thought to save our son’s life, I refuse to give in.

He might not agree with me keeping Damien from him, but I will never apologize for making the decision I felt was best for my little boy.

After what feels like forever, Dominick sighs.

“There’s so much I don’t know about him,” he murmurs, glancing at Damien, “including the fact that he can swim. I want to be so pissed at you.” He clenches his jaw.

“You kept him from me for years, and had you not been on the flight to Russia, you never would’ve told me about him. ”

It’s not a question. We both know I wouldn’t have.

The moment I heard him kill a man, I made my decision.

Even during the late nights, like when I was exhausted and taking care of Damien on my own because my mom was too sick and needed her sleep, or times when he came home and asked why his friend had a daddy and he didn’t, I never considered telling him because the thought of my son growing up the way I had—in a home with a violent man—made me sick to my stomach.

“Have you found anything out about the guy who was responsible for trying to have Damien kidnapped?” I ask, changing the subject.

“We’re working on it,” he says, stepping out of the water.

I try like hell not to—as he put it—eye-fuck him, but, holy shit, the man is sexy, and with his clothes sticking to him, I can make out the bulge in his pants.

My thoughts go back to our night together, and from experience, I know that bulge is real and not at all hard.

Sigh.

Why does he have to be dangerous? He’s good-looking and great in bed, and he makes a decent living. I know no one is perfect, but couldn’t his fault be a hairy mole or something? Did it have to be that he’s a violent criminal who is eyeballs deep in the underworld?

“Hey, mister,” Damien calls out, making me realize they haven’t been properly introduced.

After Dominick told him about the pool stuff, we headed out to the pool house to change and have been out here ever since.

Dominick flinches at the title, and a small part of me feels bad because I know if Damien called me anything other than Mommy, it would break my heart.

“Yeah, buddy?” Dominick says.

“Wanna play with me? My mommy is kinda boring.”

“Hey! I am not boring.” I scoff.

“Yeah-huh,” Damien argues. “You got upset when I splashed your eyes, and you’re not strong enough to throw me far, like Mr. Williams does.”

“Who the fuck is Mr. Williams?” Dominick barks, making Damien giggle. “And why is he touching our son?”

“You say a lot of naughty words, mister,” Damien tells him, not picking up on the second part of what Dominick said.

“Damien, his name is Dominick,” I tell him. “And don’t even get any ideas. You’re not saying them.”

Damien sighs. “It’s so unfair. Everyone gets to say all the words but me.”

I glance over at Dominick, and despite his clenched jaw, a small trace of a smile peeks out.

“Mr. Williams is Frankie’s dad,” I explain to Dominick.

“Yeah, my bestest friend in preschool,” Damien adds. “He’s got a pool and a backyard for a Giving Tree.” He looks around the property with several acres of green grass, and it’s like a light bulb clicks on right above his head. “Hey, mister … uh …”

“Dominick,” I repeat.

“Dom-i-nick,” Damien says, sounding out the syllables. “Can we get a Giving Tree?”

Before I can tell Damien it’s not happening, Dominick says, “Sure,” without question, and Damien erupts in happiness.

“Good job,” I mutter so only Dominick can hear me. “You just agreed to plant a big-ass tree in your yard.”

Dominick’s brows furrow in confusion because he’s never read The Giving Tree , and I shake my head. I’ll deal with him later. We’re going to have to have a talk about questioning things before saying yes. I understand he’s rich and he can give our son the world, but that doesn’t mean he should.

“Can you throw me now?” Damien asks him. “And then we’ll go get the tree.”

Dominick stares at him for several seconds in confusion, but then he shakes his head and says, “Yeah, let me go get my swim shorts on first.”

Damien cheers again, and Dominick heads inside, his wet shoes squeaking as he walks.