Love Her or Lose Her (Hot & Hammered #2)(48)

Dominic gripped himself hard, feeling the release in his balls, a trapdoor opening for him to fall through. He pushed his mouth up against his wife’s ear and spoke through gritted teeth. “Listen closely. If I can play ‘just the tip’ with your virgin pussy for a fucking year, I can play the long game to get my wife back. I’m getting you back. Don’t you think for a second that I won’t kill to make us right again.” He swallowed the rising emotion in his throat and let the orgasm break over him. “I love you.”

It was agony to say those words knowing he wasn’t getting them back. It ripped something open inside his chest, and he fell on the only anchor he’d ever known, kissing her neck while his body emptied of pressure. Rosie’s did the same, shaking beneath him, her hips and heels moving restlessly on the floor, seeking purchase.

Something was different this time. Something had changed.

He wasn’t exulting in the proof that he’d satisfied her. Maybe to a mild degree—he was a man, after all. Her thoughts weren’t a total mystery right now and he loved that. He looked into her eyes, that contact holding, and for that moment, there wasn’t a single mystery between them. Just honesty. They were in this struggle together.

Honesty.

The house. He needed to tell her about the house.

Dominic pressed a kiss to Rosie’s forehead and helped her sit up, unable to stop his hand from running over the curve of her shoulder, up the column of her neck to cup her cheek. “Hey. Tell me you don’t regret that.” He cleared his throat. “Please?”

Rosie shook her head. “I don’t regret it . . .”

She seemed as if she wanted to say more, but couldn’t. There was still too much holding her back.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her about the house he’d bought them, but that hesitation on her part made him swallow the revelation down. Lock it back up.

The light in her eyes dimmed a little at his own hesitancy.

The timer on the stove went off.

As Rosie stood to take the empanadas out of the oven, Dominic’s head dropped forward on a curse. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d missed the buzzer-beater shot. She’d been right there in front of him, as vulnerable as he’d seen her in a long time, and he’d missed another chance to reach deep inside her mind. To grab on to their connection and twist his fist, strengthen it until they had no choice but to be together again. By the time he lifted his head, she’d put the empanadas on a cooling rack and started dressing herself. “So once they’re cool, you can—”

“I owe you a date,” he said, not wanting to hear the awkwardness in her tone. Wanting that conspiratorial tone back she’d had earlier when they were dancing. “I want to take you out on a date, Rosie.”

She smoothed her hands down the front of her T-shirt. “When?”

“Tomorrow night.” Dominic stood and pulled up his sweats, never taking his attention off of her. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

“I can do that.” Her hands met at her waist, fingers tangling. Finally, she dropped them and crossed to the door. “I’ll see you then.”

“Wait.” Dominic stayed her hand on the knob and waited until she met his eyes. “Thank you for all of this. The truck, dinner . . .”

“You’re welcome.” She glanced back at the kitchen. “It felt like going back in time.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she lifted onto her toes and laid a soft kiss on his mouth. “I missed you. I missed how we were. Just . . . stay with me, okay?”

He cradled the back of her head and kissed her hard. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Dominic stood at the door long after she’d gone, wishing he’d been honest about the house. Wishing she would have stayed. He had to be honest with himself first, though. And he knew those impulses to keep his feelings and insecuri ties to himself, those beliefs that providing for their small family should be done in silence . . . they had to be dealt with. Maintaining his stiff upper lip hadn’t worked. It was time to show Rosie that every single day of his life had been about giving her a dream he’d thought was most important to her. To them.

Right or wrong about that, tomorrow night he would bring her to the house.

Tomorrow he would lay it all on the line.





Chapter Fifteen


Rosie was nervous. For a date with her own husband.

There wasn’t a woman alive who could blame her, right? She’d known for a while that her husband was majorly hot. Some time and distance had really brought that fact home to roost, though. When she’d taken off his shirt in their kitchen, that feast of muscles and tattoos had almost made her cry happy tears.

I’ve got a motherfucking ten at home. You think I’m stupid enough to let myself go soft?

Standing in front of the guest bathroom mirror, Rosie fanned her flaming cheeks. She’d never seen Dominic as desperate as that moment he threw her on the floor. He was always rough, but he’d been an animal. One who’d managed to restrain himself for the good of their marriage . . . and that might have been the sexiest part of all.

Rosie picked up the new bottle of curl treatment she’d bought during the week, spritzing it on her tresses to keep them tamed before squeezing the strands in her palms, the practiced action making her feel sensual. Tight in some places, loose in others. God, it had taken all her willpower to leave Dominic last night. Not because of his touch, although that alone was a powerful enough aphrodisiac. No, it was the effort. He was trying.