“We’re not friends,” he said.
“What are we?” I asked. I was actually physically shaking from being so close and yet not close enough to the man.
“Feels more like enemies,” he said. “One of us has to win, and one of us has to lose.”
He didn’t want to want me. But if he had to, he wanted me to suffer with him. Ass.
That felt accurate, but I was pheromone-drunk enough to wonder if we could both get what we wanted if we got naked once together. Enemies with benefits.
My skin was on fire. My little red thong was sopping wet. And my inner walls were having some kind of seizure. If he didn’t back up or put some part of his body inside mine right now, I didn’t think any court in the country would hold me responsible for my actions.
I reached up, and we both watched as I placed my palms on his chest. He was so warm, so solid. So obnoxiously sexy.
“You need to quit, Ally.”
I dragged my eyes away from his chest. “Excuse me?”
“Quit your job,” he said slowly. “If you don’t work there, we can do something about this.”
“You want me to quit my job so we can fuck each other out of our systems?”
So this was what an aneurysm felt like.
I’d always wondered.
His nostrils flared, and I swear his erection grew another half inch in diameter and flexed in his pants. “That’s exactly what I want.”
I was angry now. Incredibly turned on but very, very, very angry.
“We’re both on dates, and you’re telling me that if I quit my job—a job that is essential to my family’s survival—that you’ll be happy to fuck me,” I summarized.
“I’ll find you another job,” he said, ignoring the being on dates part.
The smug, problem-solving balls on this guy. I wanted to kick him in them with the pointiest stilettos I could find.
“I can’t afford to start over again.” I kept my voice low, but it shook with emotion. I had nothing left in my account. I was hanging on by a thread until payday Friday. The beer on the bar? That was being paid for by lowering the thermostat to fifty degrees for the next two days. And Dominic Russo thought he had the right to demand that I give up my employment for him. “Besides, what makes you think you’re worth it?” I seethed.
His blue eyes flashed, and he leaned in even closer.
I wanted to punch myself in the face for how much my stupid body still wanted him to touch me.
“We both know how it would be between us.”
No. No. No. Nope. Never. Not gonna happen. No.
“Here’s a thought. How about you go back to your date before you say something even more incredibly offensive and stupid? Though I’m not sure you could if you tried.” Fueled by feminine rage, I gave him a solid shove.
He took a step back, his gaze heated, hands fisted at his sides.
Oh. My. Lanta. That hard-on looked like it was determined to tunnel its way out of those very expensive trousers.
Dominic kept his gaze on me and reached down to adjust himself.
Holy baby goats in pajamas. I swear I almost blacked out. It was the most blatantly sexual thing he’d done in front of me.
And I wanted more.
I wanted to see him naked, spread out before me like a buffet.
I also never wanted to see him again.
He turned and started back toward the bar. Now I was staring at his very nice ass, wondering why I wanted to bite it and kick it. Then that unfairly fine ass was pausing.
“Oh, Ally?”
I made some kind of noise between a “huh” and a “murf.”
“Delaney’s not a date. She’s Harry’s wife.”
“You smug son of a bitch. You brought her here to screw with me.”
His smile was pure evil. “I’m not a good guy, Ally. Remember that.”
“I’ve never forgotten it, you pompous jackass.”
He started toward me again, and I held up both hands. “This isn’t fair, Dom. I don’t like you playing with me like this.”
His face hardened. “You think I like this? You think I like being the asshole who can’t have you so I don’t want anyone else to either? Do you know how I felt all day just knowing that you were dressing for someone else? That you were going out with someone? That another man was going to touch you tonight?”
I wanted to scream in frustration.
“This is so stupid. It’s not that you can’t have me. You don’t want me. We could go home right now, get this out of our system, and be normal by tomorrow morning. But you don’t want to.”
“As long as we both work for Label, you are untouchable, Ally.” He said it with an icy calm. “Quit.”
I wanted to rearrange his stupid, sexy face. “No,” I hissed. I needed a paycheck more than I needed a callus, condescending cock inside me.
“Then that means I’m not going to touch you. It also means that every time you have a date, I’ll show up to ruin it because I am that asshole.” It was his turn to show a flash of anger now. And for some reason—most likely cheese hormones—I didn’t think it was directed at me.
No, Dominic Russo hated himself right now. For wanting me.
“That is a crock of shit, and you know it.” I was losing my sanity. That was the only explanation for this night.
“I am aware. And I’m sorry. I am,” he said, closing his eyes when I started to argue. “It’s not fair. It’s not remotely healthy. Believe me. I get that. It’s not your fault. But I’m not a good guy, Ally. And life isn’t fair. The sooner you understand that, the better.”
“Oh, I get it loud and clear. And just what exactly will you be doing while I’m not dating? Fucking your way through every woman in Manhattan who doesn’t work for you?”
He was back in my space again, and I could feel the pulse of his anger. It matched my own.
“I’ll be doing what I’ve been doing since I met you,” he rasped.
“What’s that?”
“Fucking my goddamn hand and wishing it was you.”
And there went my knees, buckling under me.
27
Ally
It had not been my finest night.
After Dominic caught me when I all but swooned on him, I went back to the bar. Back to Austen. Back to the stool that my boss guarded like a gargoyle. And pretended like everything was just fine.
My neck hives had hives.
Dominic didn’t touch me again. But his hand remained a firm presence on the back of my chair. A reminder of his claim.
I wished I had it in me to flirt with my “date” to knot Dominic up the way he did me, but I could only stare blankly at Austen while he talked about his wedding.
There I sat, debating my options.
Quit and get fucked.
Or stay and get fucked over.
I, of course, was taking the high road. My situation demanded that I keep this job. My circumstances would force me to keep my dignity when my body didn’t seem capable of it.
Beside me, Dominic gave a rumble of a laugh in response to something Delaney said.
I was so tired. And sad. And angry. I’d wasted a night off. I could have had a visit with my father. I could have taken a catering shift or spent the entire evening figuring out how to patch the living room ceiling. Or, you know, making actual progress on a monumental task that was going to give me some breathing room.