Page 75 of Loss and Damages
“Your brother’s a wise man. If Dominic Milano doesn’t care about a simple human being, why would he care about you?” He holds my hand and rubs his thumb over my knuckles. “Let’s go out tonight. We can talk about more pleasant things. Leo’s not around anymore and it’s time to live your life. Start by going out with me. Casual. What do you think?”
I think if I was as wise as Nick and Jeremy, I would say yes. Nick has a steady job and cares about the citizens of Hollow Lake. He rescues cats out of trees and keeps the tourists in line. On Sundays he and his mother go to church and he was honored last summer for finding a lost little girl who had wandered away from her parents at the Hollow Lake town fair. He’s everything a woman should want in a man, but his touch does nothing and I pull my hand away from his. It wouldn’t be fair if I accepted and gave him false hope. “I can’t. I’m in love with Dominic.”
“You know that’s a lost cause. All he cares about is money.”
I can’t meet his eyes and store the cash and list of credit card transactions in the bank’s deposit envelope. “That’s not all he cares about.” My defense is weak.
“Are you saying he cares about you? Then where’s he been this past week? Has he been spending time with you? Does he call to ask how you are? To hear your voice? Does he say he loves you too?”
My cheeks heat with humiliation. He knows the answers to those questions.
“I drive by your cottage several times a day and I haven’t seen his vehicle here. You’re wishing on stars.”
“Maybe I am, but that doesn’t mean I want to go out with you. I appreciate all you’ve done since those jerks broke into my gallery, but I don’t have feelings for you. I’m sorry.”
He purses his lips and thrums his fingers on the counter. “I’m not the bad guy here, and I hope you don’t think I am because I asked you to dinner and told you the truth. You can think what you want about Milano, hold out for as long as you like. I care about you, Jemma, and I don’t want you to get hurt. If I find out any more about who vandalized your gallery, I’ll keep you in the loop. Have a good night.”
“Thanks, you too.”
He doesn’t acknowledge that and leaves without looking back.
Bracing my elbows on the counter, I hold my head in my hands. Dominic’s going after a homeless shelter now? Why would he do that? What does he have to prove? What does he have to gain?
A tear slips down my cheek for the man who has a little boy’s heart.
After an evening of painting, sipping wine, and listening to Leo’s favorite songs in a poor attempt to trick my heart into thinking he’s still with me, I fall into a restless sleep and wake to do it all over again. I used to like my life, reveled in my friendships, my art, speaking to my customers. Now every day is a drudge, and I make coffee hoping the caffeine will perk me up. I pay attention to my hair and makeup. If I look pretty on the outside, maybe I’ll feel pretty on the inside. I’ve never mourned anyone before. Relatives who have passed away lived in other states and didn’t mark my life. Leo’s absence creates a huge hole and I have nothing to fill it with but work.
Facing another evening alone, I lock up the gallery. Dominic’s black SUV crunches over the rock and he parks in my driveway. I’m stunned he came back, and my heart doesn’t give my mind time to catch up. I drop my keys and cell phone into the grass and fly into his arms the second he’s out of the truck. He picks me up, crushing me to him, his lips on mine in a frenzy that mirrors my own.
His scent is scrumptious, the rasp of his whiskers against my skin makes me wet, and desire swirls in my belly. I wrap my arms around his neck, my legs doing the same around his waist. He doesn’t ask if he can come in, simply opening the door to my cottage and carrying me to the bedroom.
Seconds later I’m flat on my back, my panties gone, and he’s inside me, without a condom. He feels so good it brings tears to my eyes and they drip down my temples. He moves furiously, a hand under my butt and the other knotted in my hair.
He mutters gibberish in my ear, something about missing me, but I can’t ask him to repeat, can’t ask him to slow down. I’mas feverish as he is, my hands under his shirt, my nails clawing at his back. He pushes his cock forcefully into me, my muscles clinging, begging for more.
I’m close, and I know he is too, his moans turning into grunts and a mumbled, “Fuck, not yet.”
Untangling his hand from my hair, his rhythm turns tender, and he helps me, his fingertips to my clit.
“Dominic,” I whisper, meeting his eyes.
“I know, sweetheart,” he says, and the delicate way he captures my lips with his in a sweet kiss pushes me over the edge. I come hard, the orgasm sparking through my body, and all he needs is one deep thrust to finish himself off, his cock pulsing in time with my panting.
We slowly come down and he holds me tightly, his breath hot and ragged against my neck.
He settles his weight on top of me and under his shirt, I wrap my arms around him, his skin damp. I’m still wearing my sundress and sandals, and he’s completely dressed, his pants sagging around his hips.
He doesn’t pull away to look at me or talk, finding pleasure in holding me after weeks apart.
I brush the hair away from his face and whisper, “Hi,” into his ear. He’s still hard, and I rest my leg over his, the skirt of my dress bunched between our bodies.
“Hi, yourself,” he says, and hides his face against my neck, his nose rubbing against my jaw.
We lie like that for a long time, until his cock softens and slips out of me in a warm gush of cum. Mine and his. “I shouldn’t have had you without a condom. You’ll tell me if I make you pregnant?”
That’s touchy ground. I hadn’t thought much about what I would do if Dominic gave me a baby, but I can say that telling him wasn’t high on the list. Not with the way he left things,at least. I can support myself and a baby without his help. I wouldn’t need him. Not for that.
Rather than lie, I ask my own question. “What are you doing here?”
