Page 49 of Counterpoint
That earned him a longer kiss. “And I can keep up with you, babe. Don’t you forget it.”
God, he loved hearing Adrian call himbabe. Almost as much as the silky caress ofDominic. “I won’t.”
“But it does mean I need to sleep tonight if I want to have any hope of being coherent for my nine o’clock meeting.”
“Oh, fuck that. Some days I’m glad I’m a musician.”
“Some days?” It was a quiet question, but one with a lot of weight. Adrian hadn’t probed, hadn’t pushed for more about that part of his life. But Dom had left the door open.
He cupped Adrian’s face and traced his cheeks with his fingers, memorizing the texture, the bone structure. “Honestly? Every day. I’m grateful every day.”
Adrian closed his eyes and smiled. “Good. You deserve all the happiness, Dominic.”
Fuck, that hurt, but in a deeply good way. His chest tightened and he blinked a couple times, clearing his vision. “Adrian—so do you.”
Those eyes flicked open, and Adrian’s smile turned sad at the edges. “Maybe.”
“You do,” Dom repeated. “And maybe I can be a part of that.”
A huff of laughter. “So we are dating, then?”
“Well, I found myself thinking that next weekend, I probably ought to bring a change of clothes...so...yeah. I think we are.”
“Next weekend sounds lovely.” Adrian’s voice was so quiet, so perfect, Dom kissed him again.
It was many more kisses before Dom made it to the front door with the books Adrian had pulled from his library earlier in the day, and then at least another dozen more before he found himself walking down Adrian’s steps, out his gate and into the summer night alone.
He turned and looked back up at Adrian, framed in the doorway. “Good night, Adrian.”
“Night, babe. I hope you have a good week.”
As Dom walked home, he realized it didn’t matter what kind of week he had—it wouldn’t be better than the two astounding days he’d just lived through.
He was in deep, deep trouble when it came to Adrian Doran.
Chapter Nine
The weekend with Adrian had knocked Dom so off-kilter that he nearly forgot Twisted Wishes had an interview with a journalist fromRockPass Magazine. Thank god the photo shoot would be later, because he had more bruises from the manhandling Adrian had subjected him to than he wanted to admit.
A manhandling he’d begged for.
But out in public with the band meant pulling Domino out of the closet—and that was hard. Playing the guitar? Well, mostly it was him doing that, using Domino to cover for his overwhelming stage fright and the singular fact that no one wanted to see a nerd prancing around stage with the likes of Ray and Mish. But the publicity stuff?
Oh god, that’s when he acted the most like Domino. He could be brash and flippant and they wouldn’t ask him too many personal questions, which left the ones about music, and Dom never minded answering those.
But he really wasn’t ready to be Domino, not after this weekend. Two days and two nights of...everything. Amazing sex. Some of the best food he’d ever eaten. Cuddles in front of the TV. Long walks through Brooklyn. Learning about Adrian and who he was...outside of being a computer programmer for a bank and a guy who adored putting his lovers on their knees and tying them up. His heart ached at Adrian’s story, at the loss of his parents, then the estrangement from his siblings.
Dom wanted to make the world bright for him, especially since Adrian’s day-to-day job was...well enough. And he’d seen the look in those eyes when he’d mentioned returning to work and 9 AM meetings.
Dom was so lucky he got to live his fucking dream, even if he had to do it as Domino, and even if it did require the occasional interview.
Dom checked his phone and reread the text from Ray. They needed to be at the magazine’s office by noon, which meant that he needed to be over at Ray and Zavier’s by ten-thirty so he could transform into Domino. They’d go by limo from there, like the rock stars they were.
Fuck. He needed an outfit. He pulled out one of his white ripped tanks artistically held together with safety pins. It would show off enough ink and keep him cool—the opposite of what he normally wore as Dominic.
A pair of tight black jeans followed. A studded belt. His boots with their heels and their bling. Thankfully, Domino was one walking wrinkled outfit, so he could shove all of it into a duffel and not worry one bit.
From his dresser, he pulled out Domino’s makeup kit and took a quick look inside to make sure he had everything. Yup. All the essentials, sans gel. He grabbed the bottle of hair goop and turned it over in his hand. In an instant, he was taken back to Adrian’s bathroom and his own reflection, how he’d looked Saturday morning, mussed with sleep and sex and the slow realization that he—Dominic—was having a life.
