Dirty Dom

23. Becca

The dishes in the large steel sink crash together, and it draws my eyes up to the busboy. He's new. His arms are skinny as twigs. His eyes dart to mine and then back to the dishes.

"Break any?" I ask lightheartedly to put him at ease. I try to muster up a smile, but I can't.

"Don't think so." He pulls them out carefully, one by one.

At least it wasn't at the bar. That would've been a pain in the ass. Like yesterday. I close my eyes and breathe in deep. I wish I still had Vicky here. She was one of the managers Dom put in charge while I was "recovering from a fall." I roll my eyes and rub my shoulder as I walk out of the kitchen to the back room. I had to dump her though. I didn't trust her or the others. I felt like they were always watching me. Like they were going to report back to him.

Just thinking about him has my chest tightening with pain. I haven't heard a word. Nothing. Tears prick my eyes. I know I didn't want it, well I didn't want to want it. But fuck, I do want him. I shake my head and try to calm myself down. My throat seems to close up every time I think about him. It physically hurts me. I can't explain it. It wasn't supposed to be this way. I lean against the wall of my office and lay my head against the wall. I can't fucking breathe in here.

After a moment I push open the door to go outside. It groans, and the bright light makes my eyes squint. But at least it's fresh air. Or as fresh as it can be for a tiny ass alley between my restaurant and the gallery next door. I prop the door open with a brick and take a seat on the crates a few feet down, closer to the empty street and away from the dumpsters.

I wish I was over this by now. Over him. Everything seems so much harder since I left him. Exhaustion weighs down on me. But it's not just physical; I'm emotionally overwhelmed.

"You alright, doll?" My body jumps at the sound of a deep, masculine voice in the silent alley. A small scream of shock forces its way out of my mouth and my hands fly up to hold it in. Dom. He walks toward me down the alley with a sexy ass smirk on his face.

My heart swells in my chest, and the tears flow. I can't hold them back. Fuck my hormones. Fuck my emotions. I don't care.

He takes another step toward me, and I fall into his embrace. My body feels weak; my wretched heart hurts. "Don't cry, doll." His strong arms hold me tight, and I want to pretend I can have this forever. Just the thought combined with his masculine smell and his soothing strokes on my back has my heart beating calmly and my body relaxing. It feels so right, so natural.

This is what I've needed.

"What's wrong?" He pulls back slightly to look down at me. I don't even lift my head; I keep my chin firmly against his chest and just breathe. My fingers dig into his back, holding him to me, but also fearing he's going to leave. I've never felt so weak and vulnerable. I don't know why I can't stop, but I just don't want to let go.

I shake my head against his chest and press my lips together. After a long moment, I answer, "You shouldn't be here."

"I want you, Becca." I finally pull away and stare into his eyes. I want him too, but I can't.

"You know I can't." I whisper the words. I know he understands. He has to understand.

"But you want to. I can make it right, doll. I'm just asking for a chance."

I want to. He's right about that. My breathing grows shallow. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. A chance. Just one chance. Could I risk that?

"Let's make a bet," he says with a grin.

I snort and reply, "I'm not stupid; you're a bookie."

"It can be anything you want, babe." His smile softens, and he kisses my lips tenderly. "Just bet me." His lips barely touch mine.