Page 55 of Counterpoint
“No doubt, if he’s kneeling for you.”
He gave her that, completely. “And I actually am dating Dominic.”
She laughed. “Of course you are.”
He spread his hands again. “Janelle.”
She’d perfected her long-suffering sigh, and it made him smile that little bit. A smile graced her lips, too. “Adrian, here’s my advice—Continue to do as you’re doing. You’re a good soul and it’s about damn time you found someone to share yourself with. If this man is coming to you, returning to you, kneeling for you, then he needs you, too. Needs what you have to offer him.”
She stabbed her fork into her salad. “Or to put it more simply, stop overthinking.”
His own sigh was less long-suffering and more of a huff.
“And yes, I realize not overthinking is asking theworldof you, Adrian.” She smiled at him. “But I believe in you.”
Stop thinking too much. Enjoy Dominic.“Let the kink come as it may?”
“Exactly.”
He could do that. Tension dripped away, much like the sweat on his brow, and he worked on his own salad while silence fell between them.
Their conversation drifted off Dominic and to Janelle’s life. Local parties. Some gossip. But it was no one he knew—some timpanist turned rock star who’d been active in the scene once upon a time. Apparently he was back in New York and the scene was abuzz about if he’d return.
“You met him once—the Juilliard student.”
That would have been on one of his last trips back from California. “I honestly don’t remember.”
He let Janelle’s commentary swirl around them, soaking in her presence and calm.
Don’t overthink.
He deserved someone to share his life with. Was that where this was heading? Maybe. Too early to tell.
When the check came, he paid and left a sizable tip, and then saw Janelle out. He kissed her cheek again when they parted company. “Thank you. Lunch did help.” At least to put some of his mind at ease.
His heart was another matter. That ran off into those self-same weeds and woods, even as his mind tried to corral it, lest his heart become entirely lost.
Chapter Ten
Dom had spent more of the week dressed as Domino than he had in a while. Ray suggested it might be smart if the brash, loud rocker actually showed up at the studio once in a while, since the press and fans had figured out where they were practicing.
That made sense. He could get away with slipping in as himself, but it was a bit conspicuous that Domino never walked in. Eventually, people would catch on that Domino was practicing—just not as Domino. The fear that had raked up his back at that prospect had made Mish ruffle his hair and kiss him on the forehead.
“Put on your makeup and those kick-ass boots of yours, and come play with us, honey.”
He dropped his head and muttered into her shoulder, “I think you have boot envy.”
Mish patted his cheek. “I do, but those things would kill my legs in concert. No fucking clue how you move in them.”
Practice. And—he’d never admit this—for the first couple shows on tour, his calves ached to high heaven.
So Tuesday he’d marched into the studio to flashes of camera phones and shouts, fully his rock-god self—and it felt good. Really fucking good. The energy, the courage. The strength. He rubbed his Celtic knot tattoo and thought of Adrian, of his mouth and hands. That smile.
The next moment, his stomach had tangled like the lines of his ink. Because what—who—Dom was now was not the man who wanted to kneel down at Adrian’s side in that cozy office. Or cuddle up with him on the couch. Or be taken apart by mouth and cock and hands.
Yeah. No way Adrian would want Domino.
“Little weird, huh?” Ray bumped his shoulder. “Back in the saddle.”
