Dom 'n Nate Read online

  “Dom!” Jacki gasps. “He’s your boss. And it’s a weeknight!”

  “I have no shame.” I get the door open and hang my coat in the closet, dropping my purse in a chair on my way to the bedroom.

  “I’m just saying. First, you tell me you got the career opportunity of a lifetime. Then you tell me you’re gonna sleep with your boss. One plus one equals uh-oh here.”

  I open my closet and dig for just the right dress. “Or, one plus one equals a total win.” Jacki can judge all she wants, but sex and work are two different things. I can keep them in their different compartments, and I’m sure Nate can, too.

  “Just be careful, okay? Don’t be too much of an asshole?”

  “Gee, Jacki. Nice to know exactly what you think of me.”

  “Try, gee Jacki. It’s nice to have a friend who knows me so well.”

  “Well, that’s true, I guess.” I pull out two dresses and hold them against my body. “Plum or black?”

  Anyone else would be confused. Not Jacki. “The plum with the high neck and the peekaboo hole for your cleavage?”

  “Yeah. With the matching Jimmy Choos?”

  “The suede ones that make your legs look fifteen times longer than they actually are? Yeah. Do that. Especially if you’re in the mood for more than just mental sex.”

  Chapter Five

  Nate

  “Dude. That Jacki girl I told you about?” Eric meets my eyes through the mirror behind the long line of dumbbells at the gym. “She’s such a slut.” He grabs a pair of fifty-five-pound weights and steps back. “I dig it.”

  “Of course you do.” I check the clock on the wall. I’ve got enough time to get a few more sets in before I need to get ready to meet Dom tonight. “You know that shit they say about opposites attract?”

  “Yeah?” Eric grunts the word as he lifts one of the weights in a bicep curl.

  “It’s bullshit.”

  Confusion draws his eyebrows together as he finishes his set. It’s not until he stops concentrating on his body that he understands what I’m getting at. “Ha.” He puts the weights back on the rack and checks his arms in the mirror. “I get it. She’s a slut. I’m a slut. Nice one. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a funny guy?”

  I’m curling more weight than I have in a long time and my arms are nowhere near tired. The thought of seeing Dom tonight has me pumped. “You gonna see her again?”

  “Saw her last night.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.” Eric steps closer. “She didn’t even flinch when I put it in her ass.”

  At least he had the decency to lower his voice.

  “What about when she put it in yours?” I finish my set and put the weights back on the rack.

  “Don’t be mean just because you’re jealous.” Eric waggles his eyebrows at me through the mirror. “You good or you got more?”

  I check the clock again. “Of course I’ve got more.”

  “You have somewhere to be?” Eric looks put out. Our Monday evening workouts typically don’t have time constraints.

  “Dinner with a colleague.” There isn’t one part of me that wants Eric to find out about Dom. She’s worth more than whatever asshole thing he’ll want to say about her.

  “That sucks.”

  I shrug. “Not as much as you’d think.” We cross the gym to the cable machine. “Are you going to keep seeing this Jacki? Has someone finally tamed the great Eric Hunt?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Eric adjusts the weight on the stack. “But we’ve got plans this weekend.”

  The rest of our workout passes quietly and that’s fine with me. I wanted this trip to the gym to burn off some extra energy before dinner with Dom. Unfortunately, it’s having the opposite effect. Even though my muscles are wasted, I can’t keep my thoughts off her, naked and bare to me. The quieter Eric gets, the more I lose myself to the fantasies and before I know it, my dick is getting its fair share of the endorphin rush. I decide to end the workout sooner rather than later.

  “I’m gonna call it,” I say. “I need some energy left over if I’m going to make it through this dinner.”

  Eric nods and claps his hands together. “You got it, man. Have a good one.”

  I slap him on the back. “See you tomorrow, killer,” I say and then head to the locker room and hit the showers.

  Eric dating Dom’s friend might be a problem I can’t tell if he’s using her for sex or if he really likes her, If he’s going to pull some typical Eric bullshit and get her wrapped around his little finger only to leave her, I feel like it’s my obligation to step in and stop it before it happens.

  Which is ridiculous because it’s not my place to save the women Eric dates and just because Jacki is Dom’s friend doesn’t change anything. It’s not even my responsibility to protect Dom. At least not yet, anyway.

  Right now, when all we have is one date and one kiss and the rest of our work lives at risk if things don’t work out, I need to back off. If Eric looks like he’s going to pull his typical shit, maybe I’ll step in anyway. Regardless of whether or not it's my place, I hate the thought of someone connected to Dom getting hurt. Hell. I hate the thought of any of Eric's conquests getting hurt, but the fact that Jacki is connected to Dom gives my protective side a swift kick in the ass.

  The locker room is empty as I sit on the bench and pull off my shoes. I gather my shampoo and body wash and wrap my towel around my waist. The chill from the tile works its way up my body as I walk to the showers and I crave the heat from the water. The knob squeals in protest and I lean against the wall, waiting for the water to warm up. As soon as it’s sufficiently steamy, I unwrap the towel and step in, lifting my chin so the water hits my chest. The minute I close my eyes to wash my face, Dom is there. Her smile. Her scent. The curve of her cheek and swell of her breast.

  Heat travels through my body, chasing away the chill and I rub both hands over my face and then up through my hair. If I had my face between her legs, would she grab my hair while I suck her clit into my mouth? Would she arch her back and bite her lip or would she scream in ecstasy, lifting her head off the pillow to watch me eat her out?

  My balls clench and my dick stiffens as I imagine her moaning my name, coming on my tongue. Soap slides down my body and the water swirls down the drain and still, I think of Dom. Has she ever been properly fucked? Has she ever come so hard she screamed and begged for mercy? Has she given everything up, opening her body to her sensuality, trusting a man to take her places she can’t take herself? Has she ever been dominated?

  I want to be the man who dominates Domino Thorne. The one who shows her how limitless pleasure can be when she relinquishes control to someone stronger than her. The one who leaves her trembling and shaking and unable to do more than whimper a thank you and curl up to sleep. I wrap my hand around my cock and imagine it’s hers. Closing my eyes, I lean one arm against the cool tile and slide my fist along my hard length, imagining Dom staring up at me. Those eyes wide and blistering with desire and trained completely on mine. What if I pinched her nose shut? Shoved my cock down her throat? Would she panic and struggle? Would her eyes water so her makeup ran down her face? Would she trust me to take her to edge, to teach her that fine line between pleasure and pain? Between fear and ecstasy?

  I imagine Dom screaming my name, her body trembling euphorically, and I come in two hot spurts right there in the shower in the men’s locker room.

  Chapter Six

  Dom

  I get dressed the way a warrior prepares for battle. Each item of clothing a strategic choice to get me through dinner and into Nate’s bed. After three years of laying groundwork, of tantalizing him at every turn, I will not miss the chance to fuck this man. I pull out my most expensive lingerie, sheer black lace complete with garters and tights with seams racing up the back that end in little bows high up on the back of my thighs. Men are visual. They react to what they see. I’ll give him glimpses of what’s underneath my dress, just enough to make h
im want to see more. By the end of the night, he’ll be putty in my hands.

  The plum dress was a good choice, especially with my hair up and off my shoulders. And the shoes? They’re not practical, given the snow on the sidewalks and streets, but I can’t imagine the outfit without them. It just means that I’ll be taking a cab even though the restaurant Nate chose is close enough to walk. My phone buzzes as I gather my things to leave. A text from Jacki.

  6:45 pm Jacki-o: Get ‘em, tiger.

  I smile and slide my phone into my black clutch. Jacki may have her doubts about me dating my boss, but she’s willing to support me anyway and I appreciate that. We’re different, she and I, but our friendship is damn near impenetrable. The cab ride is short and easy. I’ve not been to this particular restaurant before, but the moment I walk in the front door, I realize I’m overdressed. I hadn’t pegged Nate as a casual kind of guy. I let my coat slide off my shoulders and fold it over my arm.

  “You look amazing.” His voice comes from behind me, low and warm and close. “There’s not one man who didn’t notice you walk in.”

  I smile and turn my head over my shoulder, giving him a view of my profile. “Hello to you, too.” He takes my coat and then leads me to a table deep in the crowded restaurant. He wears a white button down and jeans just as well as he wears his tailored suits.

  “Have you been here before?” he asks after we sit.

  “Nope. It’s close to my apartment, but I don’t eat out very often. Is it good?”

  Nate shrugs and opens a menu. “I don’t know. I haven’t been here either.” He meets my eyes over the top of the menu. “Neutral ground.”

  “Does neutral ground even matter on a first date?”

  He studies me, those blue eyes locked on mine. “Everything matters on a first date, Dom.”

  We order our drinks—a martini for me and a top-shelf bourbon for him. From the moment I walked in the restaurant, I’ve been aware of the space between us. Every time he moves, I recalculate how much distance separates his skin and mine. I want him aware of me the way I’m aware of him. I want him to realize that all he has to do is shift slightly and our knees or our hands will touch. Our bodies are pieces on a chess board and I’m always one step ahead, just beyond his reach, tantalizingly close but ever so purposefully unattainable. Men love the chase and I’m very good at running away.

  He lowers his menu and folds his arms on the table. “I know you’re brilliant because I work with you. I know you’re a runner because I share a gym with you. I know you’re beautiful because you’re right in front of me, but I don’t know anything about the stuff that matters.” Nate leans forward.

  I adjust, keeping the deliberate space between us. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.” He leans even closer. “I want to know everything.”

  I sit back and drop my chin, looking up at him from through my lashes, coy now. Make him think he has me on the run so he’ll press his advance.

  Our waitress sidles up to the table, all hips, boobs, and too much eyeliner. “You guys get a chance to take a look at the menu?”

  Nate gives me a funny look when I order a salad. “A runner needs more fuel than that.”

  I arch an eyebrow at him. “I’m a big girl. I can order for myself.”

  He flares his hands and sits back, glancing at our waitress who looks markedly uncomfortable. “Bring her a side of grilled chicken to go along the salad,” he says before ordering a steak—rare, with a sweet potato instead of a baked potato—for himself. My jaw drops as the waitress leaves.

  “You can be mad at me if you want.” Nate smiles as if to say he knows I won’t be. “But anyone who runs seventeen miles on a Saturday morning needs protein.”

  “What if I’m a vegetarian?”

  “You’re not.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because everything about you tells me you’re a predator.”

  I lift my martini in a salute and take a drink. “We have a lot in common, you and I.”

  He smiles his agreement. “How long have you been running?”

  “My whole life.” Somewhere in the back of the restaurant, someone laughs too loudly and I turn my head, seeking out the sound. “Once, a therapist told me that I choose to run so much because I’m running from my past. I dropped her like a hot rock after that. I’ve looked my past straight in the face and given it the finger, thank you very much. I don’t need someone telling me I’m still running from it.”

  Nate narrows his eyes. “Therapist, huh? Are you hiding a tragic past beneath that cool exterior?”

  “Nope. I had my hardships, but who hasn’t? I just got tired of carrying around my baggage and hired a professional to help me figure out how to put it down.”

  “And how did that go?”

  “Turns out the only one who can put it down is me.”

  “Why seventeen miles?”

  “I’m running my first marathon this spring.” I run my finger along the stem of my glass. “Why the weightlifting?”

  “It’s a mind over matter thing. Skinny kid who grew too fast and got tired of being skinny.” Nate leans forward, his hand so close to mine that we’re almost touching. I consider closing the gap, running my finger along his hand. Would it feel like it did on Friday, the moment we touch obliterating all else? If so, it could be the edge I need to make him want me all the more. But if I close the gap, if I’m the first to touch him, then I’m forfeiting the battle, going to him instead of making him continue to chase me. Decisions, decisions.

  Our dinner arrives and I eye the chicken, my mouth watering

  “Don’t eat it if you don’t want to,” Nate says. “But you’ll feel better if you do.”

  He’s right, of course, and as much as I hate being told what to do, I like to think I’m not stubborn enough to self-destruct. I add the chicken to my salad and take a bite.

  “You don’t take orders well, do you?” Nate cuts off a piece of steak and pops it in his mouth.

  “I prefer to give them.”

  “Funny. So do I.” His gaze burns into mine. This is the strongest man I’ve ever encountered. How will he handle taking orders from a woman? How will he react when I order him to his knees in front of me?

  Dinner passes without us ever touching. For as often as I think I have him chasing me, I find myself chasing him, instead. When we finally stand, sliding our chairs into place in the noisy restaurant, Nate’s hand on the small of my back is a hard-won victory. And yet, somehow, it feels like a concession. His touch electrifies me, his wide-spread fingers guide me towards the front door, his presence behind me strong and intense. I assumed I was in control but the jolt of adrenaline coursing through my body reminds me that he is, too.

  “You say you live close?” Nate slides my coat up my arms and then slips his on. “Close enough to walk or shall I hail you a cab?”

  “It’s only a few blocks. We can walk if you’d like.” My Jimmy Choos will make the walk a challenge, but if I let Nate put me in a cab, this night is officially over.

  Nate glances at my shoes. “It’s your feet on the line, not mine.” He places his hand on my back again and guides me out of the restaurant. The temperature dropped while we ate and wind bites at my cheeks and ankles as we walk. Nate rubs his fingers on my back, sometimes dropping down just far enough to touch the top of my ass. It drives me crazy. He’s teasing and I know it. I want him to cup the damn thing in his hand and squeeze. If he wants me, take me, damn it. I’ve had enough of these games.

  I stop in front of the entrance to my building. “This is me.” I don’t wait for a response. I don’t wait for him to make up his mind to kiss me. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, press my body against his, and make the choice myself.

  Chapter Seven

  Nate

  Dom kisses me. Her lips are cold, but her tongue is warm and I drop my hand to her ass and squeeze. The entire night has been a game of cat and mouse. She’s chosen her moves carefully and
I’ve countered time and time again. This kiss is the first crack in her composure. The first sign that she’s losing control.

  “Come upstairs with me.” She slides her hands up my back, gripping my shoulders. Her tits press against my chest and my dick answers, swelling between us.

  I kiss along her jawline, nipping and sucking until I get to her ear. I capture it between my teeth and tug. “Say please.”

  Dom slides a hand between us and grips my cock. “I don’t beg.”

  I thrust myself into her hand. “I don’t take orders.”

  I kiss her, backing her up until her shoulders press against the brick of her building. Behind us, two women laugh as they pass, their conversation growing and then fading, whispers behind hands as they stare at the couple devouring each other against the wall.

  “Ms. Thorne?” A man clears his throat.

  Dom leans her head against the brick, her eyes locked on mine before she turns her attention to an elderly man in a doorman uniform. “Yes, Charlie?”

  “You want me to let you in now? So you’re not…” His gaze travels between us. “…so cold?”

  “That would be lovely.” Dom takes my hand and leads me through the door. “It’s nice to see you, Charlie.”

  “Nice to see you, too, Ms. Thorne.” The door closes behind us and Dom leads me through an ornate lobby to the elevators. I press myself behind her as she pushes the button, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her to me while I kiss behind her ear.

  She arches her back, pushing her ass against my dick and I stifle a growl. A couple arrives beside us as the elevator door slides open.

  Dom pivots in my grasp, her tits pushed against my chest, her hands sliding into my back pockets. “Take the next one,” she says to the shocked couple at our side and then pulls me into the elevator by my belt loops.