Only when she was sobbing his name did Dominic take her ass in both hands and position her against the fridge. “Time for that preview.” He tucked his hips back, pulling several inches of his cock from her wet, warm body, before ramming himself deep. Again, he caught Rosie’s scream with his mouth. “Keep quiet,” he growled, molding the supple flesh of her butt in his palms. “Don’t say another word, unless you’re telling me you’ll come home.”
“I . . .” She sucked in a shaky breath. “I’m—”
Dominic let loose on her. Maybe he didn’t want to hear a no. Or hell, maybe he simply couldn’t deprive his body of her perfection any longer. Whatever the cause, he fucked her like an animal against the refrigerator, rocking the foundation of the appliance, muffling her cries with his mouth. Her thighs held on as long as they could to his bucking hips, then lost purchase, jostling around him with every savage drive. He could feel blood trickling down his back, thanks to her nails, but the evidence of her pleasure only curved his lips against her mouth.
Rosie’s head tossed left, right, fingernails clawing at his chest. “I’m coming,” she whimpered, the slap of his flesh entering her pussy almost drowning out her voice. “I—I’m coming again. Yes. Oh God. Dominic.”
The refrigerator groaned and rocked with the force of one more thrust before Dominic ceased all motion. Ignoring her frantic protests, he released the right cheek of her backside and cupped the back of her head. He dragged their foreheads together. “Mine. Tell me I’m bringing home what’s mine.” He pushed his cock deep and ground down, making her cry out. “That’s yours. That’s what you get for belonging to me. And my—” He cut himself off to gather his emotions, but it was impossible. “My heart. You get that, too. All of it. I’m begging you to take it back before it stops working. You’re my home. I need you with me, Rosie. Please.”
“I was trying to tell you . . .” she panted, her hands dragging across his shoulders, over the curve of his neck to clasp his face. “I was already planning on coming home.”
Dominic couldn’t breathe. “You were?”
“Yes.” She kissed him so sweetly, with such trust, his head grew light. “What part of ‘you make me feel alive and protected’ didn’t you understand? What part of ‘I love you’ didn’t you understand? I’m coming home.”
“God, I love you, too,” he breathed into her neck. Relief set him free. Driven by a primal need to please now that the weight was off his shoulders, Dominic angled his dick and pumped deep, grinding himself on her clit with every rough, deliberate thrust. They both looked down, watching the sexual friction take place between their bodies, their breath coming in accelerated puffs. Rosie started to tighten up again almost immediately, her snug, wet pussy pulsing, pulsing, constricting. With a guttural groan, he picked up the pace, his satisfaction speeding closer from watching her perky tits bounce in the opening of her blouse, witnessing her beautiful eyes go blind.
“Yes, baby,” she whined, pressing her middle finger to her clit and rubbing in quick circles, the walls of her cunt swelling and leaving him almost no room to thrust. “Yes.”
The second she broke, Dominic lost it, too. He fell on her with a snarl, sandwiching her between himself and the refrigerator, rocking the appliance as he fucked his release into his wife’s body. Into the woman he loved beyond all recognition. Her screams of his name were trapped by his palm, Dominic setting his own growls of pleasure into her neck, wave after wave of bliss pulling him under, deeper, so deeply in love with this woman, he wasn’t sure his head would ever comprehend the magnitude.
That love only increased when she kissed him with soft, smiling lips and said, “Let’s go home.”
It wasn’t until minutes later, when they walked hand in hand out of Rosie’s future restaurant, did Dominic remember how he’d made it possible . . . and a tiny ribbon of dread slithered into his stomach. Ignoring it, he scooped Rosie up into his arms and carried her all the way to his truck. Nothing but blue skies ahead.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rosie hadn’t stopped smiling in a week.
A whole host of old behaviors had begun making appearances. She started singing in the shower again, for one, which Dominic took great pleasure in teasing her about.
On her way down the supermarket aisle, Rosie fanned herself thinking about Dominic’s brand of teasing. After a particularly loud shower-singing session, he’d caught her on the way into the bedroom in her towel, tossing her into the middle of the bed and tickling the terrycloth right off her. Pinning her to the mattress with his long-lost grin—one she’d missed so much without realizing it—he’d kissed down the middle of her shower-softened belly and back up to her mouth.
And they’d made out. They’d spent the whole morning making out like teenagers, laughing and groaning and petting until Stephen called to find out why Dominic wasn’t at the work site. Rosie couldn’t contain her laughter at the sight of Dominic, flushed and aroused, trying to form coherent sentences on the phone . . . all with his erection standing at a ninety-degree angle.
Best not to think of the frantic quickie against the front door that came after. Or how he’d still been hard enough to spin her around and give her a second orgasm from behind, all while chanting “I love you” in her ear.
Yes, best not to think about that in public.
Rosie blew out a choppy breath and continued down the aisle.
It wasn’t all physical, this shiny new hold her husband had on her. Where before she might get a grunt as a hello, he’d started commenting on everything. His contributions ranged from unnecessary—those tomatoes look ripe . . . thinking I’ll wear my green hoodie today . . . nicked myself shaving—to perfect and sweet. Little gifts of insight to let Rosie know he was always thinking of her and paying attention.
Wear a scarf, honey girl, it’s cold.
It makes me so happy when I hear your car pull up in the driveway.
You’re not going to believe what happened at work today . . .
His voice had been missing for so long and having it back felt like having a major part of herself back. She couldn’t wait to hear it again. Every morning, every night. As if thinking of Dominic had made him appear, something brought her up short while reaching for a can of diced tomatoes. A familiar scent.
Her husband’s scent, to be specific.
Before she could turn around fully to search for the source, two strong arms slipped around her waist, a pair of beloved lips climbing the back of her neck.
“Dominic,” she sighed, turning and wrapping him in her arms. “What are you doing here?”
They swayed for a few beats in the brightly lit aisle. “I decided to take a long lunch. The kind that lasts until Monday morning,” he said gruffly, rubbing circles on her back. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
Their mouths met in a kiss. A quiet one where she could hear their hearts pounding in unison.
“I got to thinking how . . .” He trailed off to rub his lips against her temple. “We never went out on that date. Ditch these groceries and let me take you somewhere.”
If he’d asked her to rappel down Everest, she’d say yes. “Where?”
Was it her imagination or did some redness appear high on his cheekbones?
Tongue tucked into his cheek, he stared just over her shoulder for a moment, before his gaze ticked back to hers. “Was thinking we could go ice-skating. You in?”
Rosie was positive her feet weren’t touching the ground. Dominic had taken her ice-skating on their first official date and the symbolism was far from lost on her. Here they were, essentially learning to be together all over again. And she could see from the sudden gravity in Dominic’s expression as he kissed her brow that he’d thought of the significance, too. God, she loved this man.
“I’m so in.”
Rinx wasn’t usually in service until closer to winter, but the temperatures had been unseasonably cold for the last week, so the small penned-in oval of ice situated on the
harbor was open for business. Since it was a weekday, the local kids were in school, and thus, Dominic and Rosie were virtually the only ones there. Cold, crisp wind bit her cheeks and picked up the curls of her hair as she glided out onto the ice. She looked back over to find Dominic pushing out after her, the same way he did everything else. Casually, expertly. Brutally masculine in all endeavors. Given his height and mass, if someone had slapped a hockey stick in his hands, he would have resembled an NHL star.
“We haven’t skated in years.” She wobbled and righted herself. “How dare you look so good doing this.”
With a snort, he caught Rosie around the waist and tucked her into his side. “I look good? Honey girl, I was just thanking God I’m the only man here.” He shook his head. “Christ, you’re the most beautiful woman on earth.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, swallowing through a veritable heat flash. “Last time, my father was here watching us, remember?”
“Remember?” he returned drily. “I was innocently trying to keep you upright and he thought I was copping a feel.”
“Innocently.” She raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”
He winked. “Come on, now. I was the perfect gentleman.”
Rosie hummed, letting Dominic turn her in a circle on the ice. “My father called you Octopus Hands for a year.”
Dominic’s head tipped back on a laugh. “He did, didn’t he?”
“Yes. And it was well earned.” They skated in the direction of the water, and the sounds were so soothing. The breeze, blades on ice, her husband’s voice. “He was wary of you right up until the day of the snowstorm.”
He shivered and squeezed her closer. “Don’t remind me.”
She ignored his gruff request. “Sophomore year, wasn’t it? They dismissed school early because of the blizzard and I never made it home. The snow was too thick to see my hand in front of my face. I had to wait it out in the pharmacy, but the power lines were down so I couldn’t call anyone.” Rosie tugged him to a stop at the wall of the rink and cuddled into his warmth. “You searched for me for hours. Almost gave yourself hypothermia.”
“Found you, though, didn’t I?” Dominic said quietly, cradling her cheeks and sinking toward her for a kiss. “I’d still be looking if I hadn’t. I’d look forever. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes.” She slid her hands into his coat and settled them on his stomach, fingertips tucking into his waistband. “You’ll always love and protect me. Through everything, I never lost faith in that. Not for a second.”
He made a sound and pulled back, seeming to gather himself. “Good.”
Dominic went down on one knee and pulled a ring box from the pocket of his coat—and Rosie almost collapsed.
“Rosie Vega, marry me again.” His voice had a deep resonance that rivaled the power of the water stretching out behind them. “Please give me a chance to do better this time. I don’t want to start over—there’s no way to do that when I’ve already loved you for a millennium. I just want to start stronger.” He opened the box to reveal her mother’s wedding ring, except the missing stones had been replaced. Rosie’s hands flew to her mouth and she started to shake, overwhelmed by love for this man. Her husband. “Hell, we know I can be selfish when it comes to you, honey girl. I want you to commit to loving me again in front of God. I want to lock it down.”
“You have,” she wheezed, her words muffled by her palms. She dropped her hands away from her face. “You have my love already, but I’ll give it to you a second time. Yes. Yes, Dominic. Let’s get married again.”
He started to stand just as Rosie stooped down. They collided and toppled toward the ice, Dominic catching her in his arms before she could hit. Her husband’s panicked expression sent Rosie into a giggling fit, and after taking a few recovering breaths, Dominic joined in. For what seemed like hours, their laughter bounced around the skating rink in rich echoes that reminded her of the past, the future. Reminded her of them.
Rosie had everything. Her soul mate back.
Her dream coming true.
It seemed like nothing could go wrong.
Rosie turned in a mid-living-room pirouette, a stack of laundry on her hip. There were definite perks to being temporarily unemployed. This morning, she’d slept late and taken a bubble bath. After that, she’d met Bethany at an indoor antiques mall in Farmingdale and found some perfect pieces for Buena Onda. A shabby chic chandelier for the center of the dining room, a vintage chalkboard for the specials, Spanish-style doorknobs for the bathrooms. Deciding on the smallest details put big, whopping butterflies in her stomach, especially knowing that Dominic, Stephen, and Travis were spending their spare time making repairs and remodeling the restaurant space to her specifications.
Earlier that week, Dominic had surprised Rosie by taking her to the Brick & Morty office, where she’d sat on his lap while Stephen drew up a blueprint. God. She’d never felt more special in her life—and every day, she believed more in her ability to command a restaurant. She could do this. The way she walked felt different. Her voice was stronger, full of conviction. No one was doing her any favors. They really believed in her dream.
Rosie continued to the bedroom and dropped the stack of laundry on the bed, plopping down beside it and sighing at the clock. An hour until Dominic got home from work. He would be dusty and grimy. Which of course meant she’d be forced to strip him naked in the bathroom and bathe the poor man. Such was her lot in life.
She squealed inwardly and glanced down at her new engagement ring for the thousandth time that hour. There would be no recovering from that proposal. Days later and she still risked floating to the moon every time she thought about it. How lucky was she? Most people didn’t find their soul mates during their lifetime. She’d found Dominic twice.
The kitchen timer went off, and Rosie went to check her Chipa. She’d been experimenting with several recipes in the last few days, determined to nail down a short, tasteful menu, and Dominic was not complaining. He’d been going to the gym every morning to work off the food she fed him at night. When she’d scratched Dominic’s inked abs and mentioned she would love him even if his stomach wasn’t made of corrugated steel, he’d scoffed.
“Told you, honey girl,” he’d drawled, pushing her down onto the couch and unzipping his pants, dragging his tongue across his lower lip. “Not going soft when I’ve got a ten at home.”
An hour later, she’d had to apply Neosporin to the scratches on his back. He’d done the same to the rug burns on her knees.
They had a unique marriage.
“Wouldn’t trade it,” she murmured, taking her Chipa out of the oven, coaxing them from the pan, and setting the cheese-flavored rolls on the cooling rack. She took a knife from the drawer and carved off a small piece of one roll, popping it into her mouth—and threw her hands up in victory. They were perfect.
Having mastered one of her menu items, Rosie got the sudden urge to look at the restaurant blueprint. Just to remind herself this was happening. It was real.
Dominic had left the big rolled-up plan on top of the kitchen cabinet, and she retrieved it now with the help of a step stool. After moving the napkin rack and some bills out of the way, she unrolled the blueprint—and stopped.
“What’s this?” Rosie murmured, running a finger over the slope of a roof. It looked more like the blueprint for a house. That theory was bolstered by the typed address at the bottom of the page. It was located in Port Jefferson. Instead of taking the restaurant blueprint from Stephen’s office, they must have grabbed the plan for one of his flips.
Rosie was getting ready to roll the paper back up when she caught Dominic’s name at the very bottom, alongside her own. Homeowners.
She double-checked the address, positive she’d never been there.
What was this?
A weird shift happened under her feet. As if she’d been speeding along on a moving walkway at the airport and then stepped right in molasses. For over a week, everything had moved forward at such a
rapid pace. Maybe she’d been in desperate need of some easy happiness. Some positivity. Because she hadn’t really stopped to think of the how.
How could she own a restaurant?
How could Dominic replace the stones in her mother’s ring?
The building materials seemed expensive, but she’d assumed they were left over from a flip. Or . . . donated.
Rosie swallowed the growing lump in her throat. She memorized the address on the blueprint and walked like a zombie to her car. Maybe the dread tickling her gut was unfounded, but something told her to go see the house. So she tugged the car keys out of her purse, got in her Honda, and drove . . .
Chapter Twenty-Four
When Dominic arrived home and Rosie’s car wasn’t in the driveway, he battled his disappointment. She’d probably gone down to the restaurant to check the progress, and he needed to get used to coming home from work and not finding her there. It wasn’t the first time since she’d moved back in that he’d returned to an empty house. And while he always counted the minutes until she darkened the doorway, Dominic found it wasn’t as hard as he thought to wait for his wife. Whenever he got the urge to get back in his truck, drive into town, and fireman-carry her home, he remembered her face when she’d become the owner of her own restaurant. He thought of the light that danced in her eyes every time she said Buena Onda.
Rosie had attained something she’d wanted her whole life. He’d worried he would be resentful of the restaurant consuming her time, but he only found himself feeling . . . lucky. Lucky as hell. He’d won back the love of his life and handed her the keys to her dream. The trust was rebuilding between them—and she couldn’t keep her hands off him.
There honestly wasn’t a damn thing to be resentful about. Except maybe the length of time it took to get them both undressed. His wife was smiling at him again. Laughing. They’d started talking about their days at work, vacation plans, musing about mundane things and having deep conversations late into the night. Last night, Rosie had remained sprawled on his chest for hours while he trailed his fingertips up and down her spine, listening to her reminisce about the past, fill him in on the present, paint a picture of the future.
Love Her or Lose Her Page 24
