Dance With Destiny

by Sloan Johnson

  “It’s no problem,” I assure him, resisting the temptation to ask him to put his arm back so he’s closer to me. “We’ve still got a ways to go, might as well get comfy.” I offer him a crooked smile, hoping he’ll pick up on everything I’m not saying. He turns to look at me and I notice that he’s breathing a bit heavier than before. The tip of his tongue pokes out between his lips. “Sweet Jesus,” I groan.

  Fuck, I hope he didn’t hear that.

  Dom smirks at me, letting me know that my internal monologue escaped and he heard it. Everything about Dominic tells me he wouldn’t be offended if I asked him to go to lunch with me sometime before we both head back to our own lives. Too bad what I’m thinking about now has nothing to do with a shared meal, unless we’re eating food off each other’s naked bodies.

  “Comfy is good,” he responds, adjusting the seat so he’s slightly reclined. Luckily, he doesn’t mention anything about the fact that my own tongue is damn-near hanging out of my mouth like a dog eyeing a steak. Dominic stretches again, this time arching his back. “Could we make a quick stop? I need to stretch and get some coffee.” Dominic’s back pops like bubble wrap as he twists and turns in his seat. I start watching the highway signs for a decent place to pull off. When I see the sign for a Dunkin’ Donuts that’s open around the clock, I swerve across two lanes to make the exit.

  “Jesus, remember that this is a rental, would ya?” Dominic barks, holding onto the bar above the door for support. He shakes his head when I pull into the parking lot of the donut shop. “You tried to kill me for donuts?”

  We exit the vehicle, leaving the girls asleep in the truck. “No, I tried to kill you because it’s been a while since I had what could pass for a decent cup of coffee. The donuts are just a nice side benefit.” I punch him in the arm as I walk through the door. I’ll never know why I feel so comfortable with him, but I feel as if we’ve known each other more than a few hours. Even better, I don’t feel like I have a reason to hold back the way I do when I’m home.

  Rather than hurry back to the vehicle, Dominic leads me to a small table in the front of the store. This way, he explains, the girls will see us if they wake up and realize we’re not moving, but we don’t have to get right back on the road. “You act like you’re their father and they’re ten year old twins or something. Seriously, relax.”

  “I know, but they remind me so much of my little sister that it’s scary. Who knows, maybe I’m going all big brother on them because I feel like I failed her when I moved away.” Even with as oblivious as I typically am to those around me, I can practically see Dominic retreating into his protective shell. My head and my heart go to battle; my brain telling me to run fast while my heart urges me to press to find out more about him. There’s a reason I rarely listen to my heart. It’s easier to walk away if you don’t bother getting attached. “Our mom took off when Rachael was only three, and once I left, I know Dad left her to fend for herself most of the time. I’d like to think she has a good head on her shoulders, but sometimes I wonder since she didn’t have any positive role models in her life.”

  Well shit, this just got deep and depressing. Emotional trauma is another thing I don’t do well with. I’m good with happy or angry, just not the more complex emotions that demand some sort of comfort or interaction. Dominic slumps in his seat, staring aimlessly into the night. There’s something more going on there, but I’m not about to be the warm and fuzzy guy to try and get him to talk about it.

  I continue watching Dominic over the top of my Styrofoam coffee cup, trying to come up with anything I can say in response. When nothing comes, he lets me off the hook. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear all about my problems. So, tell me more about yourself.”

  His face scrunches in a totally adorable way at how much his words resemble a push for information during a round of speed dating. “Relax, Dominic.” I laugh, reaching out for his hand. We both look down at the connection and he offers me a weak smile. It’s better than him balling that hand into a fist and relocating my jaw, so I’m taking it as a win.

  “There’s not all that much to tell. I was the good kid, did everything my parents wanted me to do and hated it. When I decided it was time to do what I wanted to do with my life rather than what they expected of me, things got intense and I moved away.” I take a long drink of my coffee, hoping that’s enough to satisfy his curiosity, and wondering why I’m spilling my shit all over the table. “Now, I’m headed back for my sister’s wedding and hoping to make it through the holidays without any drama.”

  Dominic sits back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he listens to me. “You don’t sound too happy about that,” he points out. “Do you and your sister not get along?”

  I’m not sure if Dominic is making polite conversation or if he actually gives a shit. “Are you always this nosy when you meet someone for the first time? I figure it’s either that or you’re a shrink, and it’s impossible for you to turn off that side of yourself.” I say, trying to steer the conversation away from my own fucked up family. I love them, but we live in two completely different worlds. They’re the epitome of stuck-up, pretentious assholes with all their ideas about how much better we need to be simply because of our last name. Part of the reason I put so much distance between us as soon as I could is that I know there’s no way in hell I will ever live up to their standards. Caroline might as well be the baby of the family with the way my parents dote on her. And why wouldn’t they? She’s the one who did everything in the right order and is now marrying an extremely successful businessman. Before long, they’ll be moving into the perfect house in Westchester County to raise their two-point-five kids, leaving me as the undisputed fuck-up of the family.

  Then again, I earned that title when I told them that they’d wasted tens of thousands of dollars on an education I had no desire to use. As a little kid, I dreamed of turnout gear hanging in a cubby at the firehouse, not a three-piece suit and a cubicle in one of the city’s many high-rises. After September eleventh, I allowed my mother’s fear to trample that dream. I let my father convince me that I was destined for something better than sitting around a firehouse, waiting on the next call. “It’s a noble profession, but not for a DeLuca,” he’d argue. That pissed me off more than a lot of the bullshit he spewed on a daily basis because I couldn’t think of any job that could be better than saving someone’s life.

  “Not hardly.” He chuckles. “I did minor in Psychology, but more because that shit fascinates me than some desire to spend my life sorting out the cobwebs in someone else’s mind. I just figured it’d be something to talk about since she’s the reason you’re going to New York this week. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  I’m guessing he’s a pro at getting people to open up to him, because he just managed to make me feel like crap for not talking without pushing too hard. He waits patiently for me to answer, and I can see the curiosity dancing in the gold flecks of his brown eyes. The compassion in that gaze makes me want to keep sharing my life story with him. “No, it’s fine. Caroline and I have always been best friends. We were so close in age that people mistook us for twins because she was small for her age and I was bigger than her by the time I turned three and she was four. She’s about the only one in my family I’m looking forward to seeing again. It stayed that way until high school. Caroline traveled in her pack and I stayed with my buddies most of the time. She resented me because the boy she liked wouldn’t ask her out because it’d violate ‘bro code’ or some shit.

  “Then, I went off to college and we drifted even further. She kept telling me to stick up to our father and tell him that I didn’t want to get a business degree, but I couldn’t do it. Fuck if I can tell you why though, because I was miserable the entire four years. Well, unless you count the frat parties. Those tended to ease the burden a bit.”

  Dominic glances at his watch and stands, probably bored with my verbal diarrhea. I follow him out of the building, watching him tr
y in vain to release the tension in his back. “Stop and cross your arms over your chest,” I instruct, stepping up behind him. Lucky for Dominic and his messed up spine, this is one problem I know how to take care of.

  “Excuse me?” The catch in Dominic’s voice tells me that he’s every bit as affected by me as I am by him. That makes what I’m about to do that much more dangerous. But here, with him, I don’t think I have to worry about hiding my attraction to another man. It’s refreshing, really.

  “Relax, Dominic,” I whisper in his ear as I step close enough that my chest is pressed against his back. He shivers, and I wonder if it’s from the cold or anticipation of what’s to come. Okay, so it’s most likely the cold because I’m the only one who knows all the lewd images running through my mind. Both of us are underdressed for the cold, but I don’t feel the bite of winter because of the desire coursing through my veins. “You’ve been trying for the past half-hour to crack your back.”

  He reluctantly folds his arms over his chest and I smile. His entire body tenses and the cold night air betrays him as every exhale turns into an irregular puff of steam in the air. If it wouldn’t make me look like a colossal loser, I’d do a fucking fist pump, realizing that I haven’t misread a single fucking thing this time around; he’s almost as turned on as I am right now. I wrap my arms around him, gripping my forearms tightly as I pull him off the ground.

  As expected, every misaligned vertebrae in his back pops. I should put him down, but I take a few extra seconds to enjoy the way the firm globes of his ass rub against me, the way my straining cock feels nestled between those cheeks. When I set him back on the ground, he doesn’t move away as he turns to face me. Now, his firm chest is within inches of mine. It’d be so easy to close that gap.

  We stand there, toe to toe and I allow myself to appreciate his rugged good looks. His square jaw, covered with a sexy as hell five o’clock shadow begs to be touched. So I do something I’ll probably regret if he kicks my ass out of the truck just north of Baltimore. I lift my hand to his face, placing my palm to his cheek tentatively. No matter how much I’d love to wrap my fingers beneath his chin and pull him closer, this almost tender touch allows me the ability to jump out of the way quicker if he decides to take a swing. But he doesn’t.

  Dominic leans in, gently pressing his plump lips to mine. He opens to me and my tongue dips between his lips, tasting the remnants of coffee and a chocolate donut. His mouth captures my moan as I delve deeper, exploring every inch of his mouth while my hands roam under the back of his sweatshirt. Need overrides both common sense and self-preservation, and I slide my hands beneath his sweatshirt, tugging at the fabric beneath. I desperately want to feel his skin against mine.

  Too soon, Dominic pulls away, apologizing to me. “I…that’s not…shit, I’m sorry. We can’t do this, Tony.”

  Because it’s my default reaction to any uncomfortable situation, I laugh at the absurdity of this awkward moment. “There’s no need to apologize unless you’re about to tell me you’re straight. That, dear Dominic, would be a fucking shame.”

  Not giving him a chance to question the sparks between us, I grip his hips, shoving him backwards until he’s leaning against the front quarter panel of the truck. I crush my lips over his, my tongue forcing its way into Dominic’s mouth. This time, there’s no hesitation in our kiss, no question whether or not the other wants this. We both need it, and the only problem is the fact that there are two sleeping girls in the back seat. If not for them, I’d have that door open and his body laid out beneath mine in a heartbeat. The kiss grows more desperate as a bitter winter wind blasts against our faces. I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced such a furious tangle of lips and teeth and tongues. I press my body against his, letting him feel how affected I am by his easy acceptance.

  “Fuck, Tony,” Dominic groans as I grind my cock against his. In a few hours, this will be nothing but a distant memory, so I plan to make the most of it. I reach between our bodies, cupping the length threatening the strength of his zipper, paying no attention to our surroundings. I squeeze his shaft and his teeth dig into my neck to muffle his cries of pleasure. If he’s this responsive now, I can’t wait to have his cock naked in my hand. I make it my mission to find a way to make that happen. “God… don’t stop,” he pleads.

  Light momentarily blinds me and I’m pulled out of my lusty haze. I look over Dominic’s shoulder and see a car pulling into the parking lot. I groan as I pull away, wishing I could give Dominic what he’s begging me for. As I take a few deep breaths to calm myself, I’m thankful that I didn’t ignore the headlights as one of Maryland’s finest pulls her cruiser into the spot next to our rental.

  “Good evening, boys,” the trooper says with a smirk as she heads into the donut shop. It would have been an amazing fucking evening, if not for her interruption. I feel like a teenager who’s just been caught making out late at night in the schoolyard. I know I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she’s picturing herself as the filling in this sandwich. Sorry sweetie, this is strictly a party of two.

  With the moment effectively ruined, I slap Dominic’s ass as he rushes for the door. Kissing him might have been near the top of the very long list of mistakes I’ve made in my life because there’s no way I’ll be able to walk away and forget him.

  I can’t believe I just made out with a total stranger in the parking lot of Dunkin’ Donuts. I have no problem with who I am or who I find attractive, but I prefer to keep my private life private. Meaning I don’t make a habit of dry humping men I just met against the hood of a car. I slam the door as I get into the truck, upset with myself for my lack of restraint. And for the case of blue balls already settling in.

  The more I think about what just happened, the more upset I become. I shouldn’t be turned on, but I can’t deny that I am. Tony seems so confident in who he is that he’s able to take exactly what he wants, pushing past my half-hearted objections. I should be angry with him for not listening to me when I pushed him away, but I’m glad he didn’t. And even though I don’t really know him at all, there’s something about his demeanor that leads me to believe he would have stopped if I had insisted.

  “Oh, come on, that was funny.” Tony chuckles as he turns the key in the ignition. Rather than putting the truck in gear so we can get this over with, he turns to face me in his seat. His fingers dig into the back of my neck, forcing me to look at him. My entire body slumps, uncertain whether I should beg him to kiss me again or push him away. As if he can read my thoughts, Tony leans over the console and nips my jaw, leaving me wanting so much more. “Seriously? You claim you’re not high strung but you can’t find anything humorous in what just happened?”

  “No,” I huff, trying to keep a straight face. Maybe it is slightly amusing, but it shouldn’t have happened. Finally, I’m unable to hold back a slight smirk. Without realizing it, Tony’s managing to break through my defenses. There’s no way I can resist the boyish grin on his face. “Look, Tony, you should know that’s not something I normally do.”

  Tony’s hand drops from my neck and I’m instantly chilled. He puts the truck in reverse and looks over his shoulder as he backs out of the stall. When he doesn’t respond to my statement, I figure he’s annoyed. I don’t know why, but that bothers me. It shouldn’t, seeing as we just have to get through a few more hours together, but it does.

  “Is this the part where you try to tell me it was a mistake and you’re straight and your beautiful girlfriend is waiting back home for you?” Tony asks as he pulls back onto the freeway.

  Sarcasm. I can deal with this. “No, this is where I tell you that I’m a thirty-four year old man and I don’t find public groping acceptable under any circumstance. I’d be just as irritated if I was straight and had done that with one of them,” I say, pointing into the back seat. How those girls haven’t stirred a bit is beyond me.

  “But would you have enjoyed it as much if it had been one of them?” he asks, waggl
ing his eyebrows mischievously. He looks at me and the lights from a nearby truck stop break the darkness enough to give a mischievous glint to his eyes. Every time Tony opens his smart mouth, he pulls me deeper under his spell. Makes me wish for things that will never be, not with him. It doesn’t matter that I’d grow sick of his carefree attitude and the lack of filter between his brain and his mouth. Something about the man makes me consider things that have never crossed my mind before tonight.

  “Not the point,” I deflect. No way in hell am I going to stroke his ego, or anything else, by letting him know that he had me about a minute away from coming in my jeans.

  Trying to put an end to this conversation, I pick up my iPad and open the profit and loss statements Andrew emailed me this morning, hoping this attempt to concentrate will be more successful. I’m not sure what Andrew knows that I don’t, but going solely off the numbers, I see no reason anyone would want to invest in this company, which is making my job that much more difficult. I turn my iPad this way and that, as if I’m playing a game, trying to shift the numbers so they magically make sense. I’ll have to call him in the morning because there’s no way I am going to be able to close this deal without some insight from him.

  Every once in a while, I lift my head to see how the road looks in front of us. I know that, at some point, we’re going to hit inclement weather, but so far the pavement is dry and the sky is clear. And every time I avert my eyes from the iPad, I look over to Tony, wanting to say something to ease the tension filling the front seat, but I can’t come up with the words. He’s a gorgeous man, aesthetically the type I normally go for but to quote the old cliché, we’re two ships passing in the night. Once we hit New York, he’ll go his way and I’ll go mine. There’s no point in trying to ease the blow of me pushing him away by telling him that it was a welcome diversion, however fleeting.