Page 68 of Counterpoint
Adrian kissed him when he returned. “Better?”
It was. The fear was there, the thought that this was a mistake, but not so horrible now. “Yeah. Thanks for understanding.”
Fingers brushed the hair from his forehead. “Privacy is important.”
So was trust. Heshouldtrust Adrian. But a knot kept forming in his soul at the thought of unraveling his life that much. If Adrian rejected Domino, where would that leave Dominic? And if Adriandidn’t—how soon would the world know about Dom’s real name?
The walk back was relaxed, and like the sun peeping though the clouds, Adrian’s smile broke through the gloom in Dom’s soul.
He didn’t take the guitar out right away. They relaxed in the library, reading snippets of books to each other until Adrian’s sensual poetry reading got the better of Dom, and he plucked the book from Adrian’s hands and kissed him until they were both breathless and hard.
“Downstairs. Now.” Adrian’s voice was both commanding and guttural. Dom did as told, with pleasure.
Clothing ended up everywhere in their wake. On the stairs, in the hallway when Adrian rammed Dom up against the wall and jacked him off until he was moaning and struggling against that hard body. “Gonna come,” he gasped between kisses.
“Not yet, you aren’t.” But Adrian didn’t stop stroking, not until Dom was trembling and incoherent.
Wasn’t fair. Was absolutely everything Dom loved.
When they finally ended up in bed, there was only skin and mouths and teeth. Lubed fingers and moans. Cocks grinding together. Then Adrian entered him and everything was right in Dom’s world. He was full and home and Adrian had him.
He loved the way Adrian fucked him, somehow brutal and tender at the same time. Dom came hard and fast, too stunned to even cry out.
Adrian followed, Dom’s name—all three syllables—on his lips. In the aftermath, when they were tangled in each other’s arms under the sheets, Dom whispered, “Can I play for you?”
He felt Adrian’s shudder. His answer was full of gravel and almost begging. “Please, Dominic. Please.”
The air in the house was cool and the trip down to the living room to collect his guitar felt like a dream. But then, everything in Adrian’s house was that way.
When Dom returned, he sank down on the bed next to Adrian, guitar in hand, and touched the strings to tune them.
Then he played.
The calm was breathtaking. Just like always. Music was the life he’d chosen, the one he’d loved. With or without Domino, in the still and quiet, he could stroke the strings, feel the vibration against his skin and hear the notes. So many notes. Snippets of classical pieces. Jazz. Modern. He even played a few lines from one of the band’s new songs.
When he finished, he found Adrian’s gaze and it was full of admiration and awe, and that both broke and healed Dom’s heart.
“Babe,” Adrian whispered. “That was beautiful. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.” He rose and set the guitar back in its case.
When he returned to bed, Adrian pulled him into his arms. “You’re a gift.”
He didn’t know about that, only that his soul ached as much as his heart and he so desperately wanted to climb over the fear that held him from telling Adrian about Domino.
But that wall seemed too high and the fall on the other side so great. Instead, he lay in Adrian’s arms and drank in his warmth, touch, and kisses.
Chapter Thirteen
Dom was getting used to the whiplash effect of moving in and out of his two lives. Weekdays, more often now than not, he was Domino, even dressing the part to go into the studio.
Part of it was a marketing ploy—their show was coming up. He even headed out on the town with the rest of the band a few times. Camera and cell phone flashes. Autographs. People screaming their names.Hisname.
God, he loved it. As much as the stage and the center of attention scared Dominic, Domino thrived in that environment. Dom could be as brash and cocky and brave as he wanted to be in this, his other life.
And he had another life now, not just moments as Dominic, but during the weekends and a few weeknights, hewasDominic andwithAdrian, thoroughly enjoying every aspect of what it meant to be dating him, from the lovely food to the stimulating conversation, to the sex that left him wrecked and panting and wanting more, even when he topped.
Thursday had been a full-out Twisted Wishes fun fest. He’d started the day as Domino, sneaking out of his house in the very early mornings, hoodie pulled over his head and slouching through the subway. Once in Manhattan, he’d relaxed and let people see a little more—and soon he’d caught some kids staring and trying surreptitiously to take photos of him.
