Dominik

by Sawyer Bennett

  I dip my head, running my lips over her shoulder blade before grazing my teeth over the same spot. Willow shudders. “I’m close.”

  Me too. So fucking close.

  “Brace yourself,” I say, and she drops her hands back to the bed.

  I get my other knee on the bed, hands to her hips, and I start pumping into her harder and faster. Arching her back again, she tosses her head. Her dark hair goes flying, covering her back, and I brush it away, skimming my fingers along the lace of her bra.

  My eyes roam, taking her in.

  “So good,” she groans, then she locks tight. Her muscles contract hard around me, rippling. It’s her orgasm breaking loose, and it’s powerful.

  It’s what I need to trip mine, and the longest, most satisfying eruption of pent-up lust hits me.

  “Fuck,” I bark as I thrust into Willow so hard she goes crashing to the mattress and I follow, pumping my hips to prolong the feeling.

  Willow sighs when I finally come to rest, my arms wrapping around her and rolling us to our sides. “That’s not exactly how I thought the evening would go,” I tell her, brushing my lips against her shoulder.

  She laughs, a carefree sound that assures me she’s more than happy we started out this way. “And you didn’t even have to dirty your kitchen to get some.”

  My head pops up. “Come again?”

  She glances over her shoulder. “Well… I mean, that was great, right? It’s what we wanted. No need to cook me dinner, you know.”

  I frown. “You’re a completely odd woman.”

  Willow snorts. “Oh, come on, Dominik. We have great sex together. It’s why you pursued me. It’s why I gave in. But we scratched the itch, and now you can take me home. In fact, I’ll just take an Uber to meet you next time. No sense in—”

  I flip Willow onto her back and surge up, caging her in by placing a hand on either side of her ribs so I can loom over her. “Fuck if you’re leaving. I am going to make us some carbonara because I’m starved after that workout. We’re going to eat, then we’re coming right back to this bed where we’re going to stay all evening. And I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  “But—”

  My mouth hits hers for a bruising kiss that’s meant to tame her. When I lift up, I repeat. “All night. I’ll take you home after breakfast.”

  “But this is just sex. That’s all. There’s—”

  “Willow,” I growl, and her mouth snaps shut. “I’m starting to get you have some sort of issue with intimacy or something. If you want to call this merely great sex, that’s fine. But I’m greedy, which means I want a lot of this ‘sex only’ thing, so you’re staying in my bed all night tonight and that’s all there is to it.”

  She wants to argue. I can see I’m impinging on some deeply held belief she has. I don’t know what the basis of her issues are and frankly, at this point, I don’t care. I’m not looking for a deep relationship either.

  This can work out between us for the short term because I think we both essentially want the same thing.

  Except… I need to be in charge. That’s all there is to it.

  “Look,” I say in a more reasonable tone. “We’re both going to be in the same proximity for the foreseeable future while the Vengeance is in the playoffs. We’re both very, very compatible in bed. Neither of us is looking for anything more than sex. So let’s just roll with it, okay? And don’t freak out if I want you to stay all night. It’s certainly not a marriage proposal or anything.”

  “Good,” she huffs, sounding very affronted by the word “marriage”. “Because I don’t want anything deep.”

  “Fine,” I agree, grinning at her fierce expression. “Neither do I. But there’s one thing we do need to make sure we’re in alignment on.”

  “What’s that?” she asks suspiciously.

  I place my fingertip at the hollow of her throat before dragging it down the center of her chest. “This body is mine and mine alone. You share it with no one else while sleeping with me.”

  Willow narrows her eyes, baring her teeth. “Fine. It’s a good thing you do a passable job of wringing an orgasm out of me. You’ll suffice.”

  I laugh at the totally underwhelming report of what we’ve got going on together. Good thing my ego is large enough to take it.

  When I drop my gaze to hers, I shake my head in a chastising manner. “You’re cute when you try to be all independent and act like you don’t need me.”

  “I don’t—”

  My hand slides down her stomach, right in between her legs, and I give her a firm squeeze. Willow gasps and arches into me, her eyes fluttering closed and her teeth digging into her lip.

  Oh, yeah.

  She may not want to let her heart get involved, which again… totally fine. But her body is already locked down tight and firmly in my possession. It’s mine to do with as I wish and I’ve already got a million ideas on how to exploit that.

  CHAPTER 7

  Willow

  The atmosphere in the Vengeance arena is so electrified, the hair on my arms rises. The team is out on the ice for pre-game warmups, and Metallica is blaring to pump up the crowd. Even my dad is banging his head a little from where he sits at the end of the row. He and my mother flew in this morning to attend the first playoff game that is historically monumental for this expansion team.

  My mom is next to him, but she’s not fazed by the rock music. Instead, she’s standing, her arms crossed over her stomach as she watches her son—my brother Dax—perform warmup drills with the team. She was always the one who was super vigilant over Dax’s hockey while my dad was the fun cheerleader type.

  Regan and I sit beside her. Dax got us special seats outside of his normal season tickets for the playoff games. Regan and I will be attending them together, but my parents were not about to miss the first one and any others they can make.

  I turn my attention to the ice. I can’t even begin to count or remember all the games I’ve seen my brother play in, which have included playoff games with other teams—including a disappointing conference finals loss when he was with Toronto. But there’s something about this team that transcends Dax’s prior league experience.

  I wasn’t bullshitting Dominik last night when he asked my opinions on the playoffs. He has built something utterly magical with this team, and I can even see it in the way they skate their warmups. Every guy out there is focused and determined, yet… they all have an easygoing grace in their attitudes. It’s as if they’ve accepted the highly pressurized situation they are in, and they’ve decided to channel it into the most brilliant positive energy I’ve ever seen.

  There’s no doubt… part of that comes from Tacker finally settling back into the first line. The man has been through so much and while much of it was beyond his control, it had to have had a negative impact on the energy of the team. But—and I’ve heard most of this from Regan—he seems to have found a true love of life again after falling for his therapist, Nora. That has, in turn, brought them all closer together.

  Proof is in the fact the first line helped Dominik decide to allow Rafe Simmons—our talented leader of the second line—to go to Raleigh to join the Carolina Cold Fury in an unprecedented deal. No one has ever effectuated such a trade of players on the eve of the playoffs, particularly between the top-ranked teams in both conferences. All the sports news networks exploded this morning with the story, although Dominik had told me all about it over carbonara last night.

  And then… true to his word, we went back to bed where we did not leave until this morning.

  I normally don’t do sleepovers since they tend to signify “something” more than just sex. I have to give Dominik credit, though.

  We did extraordinarily little sleeping.

  “So,” Regan whispers as she leans into me, nudging her shoulder against mine. “Are you going to tell me how it went last night?”

  We haven’t seen each other today. By the time I’d gotten home from Dominik’s, Regan was gone f
or a shift at her contract job as a pediatric nurse. Thank God Dax was gone, too. That way, I didn’t have to suffer his condescending disappointment about me sleeping with his boss.

  But whereas Dax has a healthy dislike of Dominik’s interest in me, Regan has full-blown romantic fantasies.

  Needing to disabuse her of them, I scoot closer, needing to talk loud enough to be heard over the music but not so much my parents, who are on her other side, can hear. I even cup my hand around my mouth so the words go directly into her ear. “We had sex four times last night, and it was stellar.”

  “Wow,” she replies, awed. “Four times? Dax and I have never—”

  I throw up my hand to cut her off. “We are not discussing my brother’s sex life.”

  Smirking, Regan edges closer. “So, what… are you two dating now?”

  My return grimace should be enough of an answer, but I make sure she understands. “No, of course not. I don’t date. Neither does he. We met for mutually advantageous orgasms is all.”

  Her curiosity is not appeased, though. “Does that mean you’ll meet again for the same?”

  I shrug, although Dominik seems to think so. He told me as much when he dropped me off after the breakfast he’d promised—which was served in bed, yummy, and followed by more sex.

  “You’re coming home with me after the game,” he told me after he’d insisted on walking me to Regan and Dax’s door where he’d proceeded to kiss me breathless.

  But then I recovered my breath enough to argue about it.

  Regan nudges me in the ribs, but I ignore her. I’m tired of talking about the never-ending complexities Dominik Carlson seems to have brought into my life. Instead, I let my gaze focus on the ice, pretending to be enamored with the Vengeance warmups.

  I mean… I have to trust Dominik and I are on the same page. I think we both had a meeting of the minds in addition to the other parts of our bodies that met last night.

  He’s a player and not ready to settle down. I’m relationship averse and believe there’s nothing wrong with a woman in this modern world partaking in a sexual relationship with a man without expectations of it going any further than some fun times.

  We’re perfect together, right?

  Regan taps me on the shoulder, but I continue to ignore her, leaning even further forward by resting my elbows on my knees. Dax looks nice and loose out on the ice.

  So what does it really mean that I didn’t have a horrible time waking up next to Dominik? I’m sure there’s nothing to read into the fact I wasn’t totally put off at waking up wrapped in his arms. It didn’t even seem too intrusive.

  Or that I was slightly disappointed to watch him drive away this morning.

  Another tap to my shoulder… this time more insistent. I resolutely stare forward and continue to ignore Regan.

  Or, for that matter, I totally cannot give any credence to the fact we had pretty damn good conversation when we weren’t having sex or touching each other. Granted, it had been mostly focused on the playoffs and Dominik’s decision to help Rafe Simmons find a new home with the Cold Fury.

  And I most definitely need to ignore the warm and gooey feelings invoked by knowing he put a single man’s love of his family above his entire hockey team’s success, especially since he clearly understands he could be making a very horrible mistake by working that deal with Gray Brannon.

  A small sigh escapes as I remember what he said as we’d laid in bed and talked in the moonlight. “If we couldn’t have worked out that waiver deal,” he’d told me while he played with a lock of my hair, “I was just going to put him on the injured list and send him home.”

  That really had touched me.

  That he was going to willingly let his player go, still pay him his extremely expensive salary, and expect nothing else from him in return.

  It was way too telling about Dominik’s character, which caused me to respect him as a person, which made him even more dangerous.

  Regan jabs me with a hard elbow in my ribs, which actually hurts.

  “Ouch,” I snap, whipping around to glare at her. “What’s your problem?”

  She doesn’t reply. Instead, she throws her thumb over her shoulder toward the end of the row where my dad is talking to a man.

  And not just any man… Dominik Carlson.

  Looking way too edible in an expertly cut dark blue suit with subtle pinstriping and a striped tie in the Vengeance colors, he has his dark, wavy hair slicked back and a thick layer of stubble on his face. It’s playoff season—the season of the beards—and I’d heard he was going to let his facial hair grow in solidarity with his players.

  That spells danger to me as well, as I love a good beard and the way it feels when—

  Dominik’s eyes move from my dad to briefly connect with mine. I get a knowing smile—as if he realizes exactly what I’m thinking or he was remembering all the dirty things we did last night.

  Regardless, his gaze only briefly stays on me before he resumes his conversation.

  “What’s he doing here?” Regan asks, her voice slightly pitched with excitement. In her mind, this is the equivalent of the prince coming to Rapunzel’s tower to claim her.

  “No clue,” I mutter, returning my attention to the action on the ice.

  That lasts a few seconds before my dad calls my name. I hesitantly glance over at him, noticing my mom had finally taken her seat.

  My dad points at Dominik and an usher beside him. “Mr. Carlson has invited us into the owner’s box to watch the game.”

  Oh, just fucking great.

  He’s making this about more than sex by offering my family an amazing perk, which is definitely outside the purview of our no-strings agreement.

  I smile politely at Dominik before shaking my head at my dad. “That’s a lovely offer, but I’d like to stay down here. Dax got us these amazing seats. No offense, but it’s just more fun sitting in the crowd during the playoffs.”

  My dad’s face falls in disappointment. For the Detroit game, Dominik had hosted my family in the guest team’s owner’s box, and my dad had been so impressed with the free food and liquor.

  I casually lift my chin at Dominik in a show of defiance, conveying that we need to keep the lines between us clear. I stare at him with challenge.

  The look I get back causes me to shiver. There’s a flash in his eyes—almost a hint of anger at my refusal—and then something a bit warmer that says he enjoys a challenge. Finally, pure determination to put me under his control shines through. My belly flutters.

  Crap… why do I like that feeling so much?

  Dominik motions to my dad, indicating he wants to move into our aisle. When my mom and dad stand, Dominik starts carefully edging past them toward me. Regan pops up from her seat to make room. For one fleeting second, I think he’s going to do exactly as he did last night and toss me over his shoulder.

  Instead, he ignores me—doesn’t even spare me a glance—but leans over me to get the attention of the fans to my left whom I’d barely paid attention to.

  I take them in. A group—two men and two women—approximately my age, all wearing Vengeance jerseys.

  Dominik shifts over me a bit more to reach out a hand. “Pardon the interruption… not sure if you know who I am—”

  One man jumps up. “Dominik Carlson,” he exclaims, shaking Dominik’s hand enthusiastically.

  “Bingo,” Dominik replies with a laugh. “And I’d like to offer the four of you the opportunity to sit in the owner’s box for the game. Any interest? There’s free food and liquor.”

  “Hell yes,” the other man exclaims, and all four bounce out of their chairs.

  That’s weird.

  What’s even weirder, the evil grin Dominik shoots at me. As he starts to back out of the aisle, I dismiss it, though. I have to stand and scoot back so the group can barrel past me to follow him.

  I mean… is he trying to make me jealous by taking four strangers to the box? As if that would matter to me.

 
; I catch surreptitious glances as Dominik congregates with the four fans and the usher in the main aisle. He gestures with his hands and motions at the usher, who starts moving up the steps with the group following behind him.

  And Dominik stays put.

  He watches them for a moment before turning back to me, his mischievous grin now going positively triumphant as he once again edges into our row, past my mom, dad, and Regan, to where I sit.

  When I don’t move, he’s forced to step over my legs. As he flops into the seat beside me, he proclaims, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat, Willow.”

  My jaw drops as I stare incredulously. It’s clear the man wants to watch the game with me, and he found a way to do it despite my trying to stop it.

  On top of that, it’s clear he knew I’d refuse from the get-go by the fact he brought an usher to guide those fans up to the owner’s box. He’d known I’d say “no,” and he’d get the seats beside me. In fact, I have no doubt had those fans refused, Dominik would have started offering obscene amounts of money for those seats—or at least the one right beside me—merely to get what he wants.

  I don’t know whether to be offended or impressed.

  “So romantic,” Regan says on a sigh. When I glare her way, she smirks.

  I dare to let my attention move past her to my parents, who are also smiling. It’s apparent they think it’s patently obvious to the entire world Dominik Carlson is interested in their daughter, and they couldn’t be happier about it.

  I rotate in my seat, swiveling to face the brutishly controlling man to my left. “Are there no lengths you’ll go to have your way?”

  Dominik’s eyes bore into mine. “Not where you’re concerned. Might as well roll over, Willow, and just submit.”

  “Never,” I hiss as I focus on the ice.

  But deep down, something inside of me is inherently turned on by his aggressiveness. By his sheer confidence and the power of his ego. By his determination to take what he thinks is his.