Dirty Secrets (Get Dirty 4)

Suddenly, it feels like old times, the two of us against the world, though maybe a little wiser, a little more jaded, but at each other’s back even when we’re at each other’s throats. We’ve had some pretty major blowouts, both as kids and more recently, but in the end, we’re family and that’s all that matters. I’d kill for him, I’d die for him, I’d bring the shovel to the body-burying party, no questions asked for him, though hopefully, it never comes to any of that. Point being, he’s my brother.

He gives me a little two-fingered wave and disappears into the foyer, the door clicking quietly before closing softly.

I take a deep breath after he’s gone. I know that I figured some things out through my conversation with TJ, truly worked my way through a mental labyrinth of who I am, who I’m supposed to be, and maybe most enlightening of all, who I want to be. As to my heart, it knows exactly what it wants. But tonight was a test for me too. And honestly, I’m not sure I passed.

I walk down the hall toward Dom’s office, listening to see if he’s still on the phone but only hearing silence. The door is open and the room is deserted, so I take soft steps toward his bedroom.

When I stand in the doorway, the sight breaks my heart. Dominick, the cold, unfeeling monster that everyone fears, sits on the edge of the bed, utterly broken. His shoulders are rounded, his head hanging, agony pouring off him in waves.

“Dom?” I whisper, worried.

His head jerks up, his eyebrows lifting as he sees me, a hopeful gleam coming into his eyes. “Allison? You stayed? I thought I heard the door. I was sure you’d left.”

Now his misery makes sense and hope blooms in my heart. He thought I left him, went with TJ. I shake my head, stepping tentatively toward him. I sink to my knees before him but don’t touch him. I’m not sure if I should.

“That was TJ. I . . . I don’t want to leave. Do you want me to?”

He cups my face in his palm, and I lean into him, wanting his touch so much that I raise my hand to hold him there and close my eyes, savoring the slight rasp of the calluses on his fingertips against my cheek.

“No,” he says, his voice jagged and rough. “I don’t want you to leave. Ever. Allie, I’m yours.”

I know we have so much to talk about, and it’ll be hard, but I can face it with him. “Dom—“

Whatever I was going to say is swept away as he leans forward and steals the words with a kiss, his mouth devouring mine as he holds me in place.

I give it all to him, all words, all power, all control. With this kiss, I let him know the truth. Yes, he owns me.

The difference is that I’m giving him everything knowingly and willingly this time. No secrets, nothing held back. I want him, want his cage, however gilded or rusty it may be. As long as he lives inside it with me. We’ll have to talk, hammer out the details soon, but his kiss vows to me that we will do it together, and that’s enough for the moment.

He grabs under my arms, suddenly yanking me onto the bed and rolling, pinning me beneath his weight as his mouth consumes me even more deeply. As his mouth works at my neck, his hand creeps lower, pulling the long T-shirt up by the fistful until my panties are exposed.

I’d needed to change out of my sweats earlier, wishing I could shed the memory of the scene at the truck as easily as the clothes. I’d wanted the comfort of Dom’s scent surrounding me, but going into the living room for a difficult discussion had not seemed like the time to go commando, so I ‘d left my red panties from my stage costume on underneath his shirt. And now as he looks at me, I’m so glad I did.

Dominick groans painfully as he traces the line of them at my hip, bringing goosebumps to the surface.

“My Allison . . . so beautiful. When I saw these on your honey skin tonight, all I wanted to do was rip them off and claim you. Make sure every man in there knew exactly who you belong to.”

I bite my lip, permission given in my eyes, but while I expect him to roughly tear them, I’m thrilled as he gently slips them down my legs, tossing them to the floor before tenderly caressing my calves, kissing the sole of my left foot as he does.

The control he has not just over me but over himself is magnificent. I’d trust him either way, rough and brutal or sweet and soft, but I know that we’re on the precipice of something here that there is no coming back from.