DOM: Alliance Series Book Three (109)

“What the fuck?” King booms.

Rob wisely stays in the driver’s seat.

“That’s our cue, Mama.” I press a hand to Val’s back to get her going, then pick up our bags.

“Mama?” King mutters. “What the fuck is wrong with everyone this morning?”

He says more, but we’re out of earshot.

Val takes a few hurried steps so she can give Aspen a quick hug as I catch up.

“Enjoy your day,” I tell Aspen, and she rolls her eyes at me before striding up to the house.

Valentine’s smile is so full of humor when she looks back at me that I have to kiss her.

There’s no other choice.

Taking a few long steps, I drop the bags and catch her around the waist.

I dip her back, then capture her mouth with mine.

Val melts into me. Not resisting at all.

And I love it.

Her mouth opens, and I slide my tongue against hers.

I love the way she tastes.

She lets out a small moan, and it makes me regret not sleeping with my cock buried inside her all night.

I love her.

My eyes slowly open.

I love her.

I slide the hand not at her back up around her throat.

I fucking love this woman.

Everything about her.

Every goddamn inch.

Every curve.

Every tear and every whimper.

I love her.

Something cold hits the back of my neck, and I jolt upright.

Looking back, I see King scooping up another handful of snow.

Val sees him and lets out a girly squeal, then darts toward the vehicle.

I walk backward toward the car, and when the second snowball flies for me, I backhand it out of the air, then hold up my middle finger to King and climb into the back seat next to my wife.

But before I can pull her in for another kiss, my phone starts to ring.

And when I answer it, the plans change.

After we drop Val off in Chicago, I’m going to Costa Rica. Because that’s where Casey is.





CHAPTER 73





Val





My lips still tingle from Dominic’s goodbye kiss as I walk up the stairs toward our bedroom.

I hate that he’s gone again. But at least I can do this next part with privacy.

Just breathe.

My feet take me through the bedroom, into the bathroom.

I’ve already decided that I’m going to do this. Because I need to know. So I don’t hesitate. I walk straight to the cabinet next to my sink and open it, taking out the leather bag.

My fingers shake a little as I unzip the top and pull out the slender box.

It’s just a moment. One moment in time.

“You can do this,” I say, trying to convince myself that I’m not terrified.

I read the instructions on the side of the box. Then I read them three more times.

I’ve never had to take an at-home test before. I’ve never had so much as a pregnancy scare before. But now… Well, now I can’t imagine having done this before today. Like some of the other broke girls I went to college with, taking these tests in their early twenties. I don’t know how they survived the stress. At least I’m more financially secure than I ever could have dreamed of. And I’m with someone I’m pretty sure I’m in love with. And he comes with a big family that would certainly be involved in our child’s life.

But even with all that, I’m still terrified.

And even though I want a family more than anything, I don’t know if having the baby is the right choice.

It’s too soon.

This life is too dangerous.

People are actively trying to kill my husband.

We need round-the-clock security.

And yet…

I rip the box open and take out one of the two sealed tests within.

Reading the box one more time, I set it down and tear open the packaging around the testing stick.

It looks just like it does on TV. Exactly like the picture on the box.

“Just pee on the stick for five seconds. Set the stick on the counter. Wait.”

Worried I might accidentally pee on my hand, I decide I don’t want to have to deal with pulling my pants back up, so I shove them and my underwear off. Then I walk to the little toilet room with nothing but my shirt on and leave the door open.

I purposefully didn’t go to the bathroom after we landed, and now I really have to pee, so even though I’m freaking out, I sit with my legs spread wide and immediately start to go.

And I pee on the stick.

Five seconds feels like forever. But I can’t really stop going once I start, so now I’m just sitting here, holding the peed-on test in front of me while I finish.

It’s going to be fine.

It will all be fine.

I repeat that mantra to myself as I fumble with the toilet paper one handed and then walk bare assed back to the sink.

I’m careful to set the test away from the edge of the counter so I don’t accidentally bump it, then wash my hands. Twice. Then I set my phone alarm for the correct amount of time, according to the test box, and go into the closet.

Dressed in my comfort outfit—sweatpants and Dom’s Yale sweatshirt—I pace into the bedroom.

These are the longest minutes I’ve ever lived. But I can’t just stand there and watch the test. I have to wait it out.