DOM: Alliance Series Book Three (28)

Dom grins. “I like your friends.”

“Me, too.” I debate telling him that I don’t know them really well and that I was happy to leave them for him, but our vehicle slows to a stop.

Dom slides back across the seat to his side.

“You’re supposed to wear your seat belt,” I chastise him.

“I figured you were worth the danger.” Dom opens his door, and his gaze turns serious. “Wait for me.”

Dom slams the door after he gets out, and I glance up to catch the driver watching me through the mirror, but then his eyes immediately dart away.

I’m unbuckled and ready, so when Dom opens the door, I take his offered hand and climb down.

We stand there, chest to chest, for a moment.

Dom slides his tongue along his teeth. “You’re not as short, Shorty.”

I slide a foot to the side and pull up on my pant leg, the material rising to show the tall shoes hidden beneath.

“You’re gonna twist an ankle in those.”

“I’ll have you know,” I tell him, releasing the material and re-covering my shoe, “I can move at an almost jog in these things.”

Dom holds his elbow out away from his side, and I slide my hand through the V it makes.

“An almost jog. I retract my statement. Clearly, you’re a pro.” We start across the sidewalk together. “For the record.” He looks down at me. “I like you short.”

I look up at him. “I like you big.”

My eyes widen at the same time Dom lets out a bark of laughter. And, Jesus fuck me, the man just gets hotter.

I’m too distracted by his presence to catch the name of the restaurant before we step through the front door.

“Welcome.” The host steps out from behind the front desk, two menus in hand. “Right this way.”

Dominic doesn’t lower his arm, so I don’t drop my hold on his elbow as we walk through the large, dramatically lit dining room.

It’s sexy. Blacks and reds and dark wood tones. With bright green plants hanging from the walls and ceilings and interesting wicker chandeliers.

Most of the tables are filled. And most people are busy in their own conversations, but lots of faces still turn our way.

I keep my shoulders back and my grip on Dominic’s arm light.

I belong here. At his side. In this restaurant.

We walk past a woman who gives Dom, then me, a once over, and I realize that without even trying, we’ve dressed like we planned it. Wearing black from head to toe.

His little Angel, all dressed in black.

The host stops before a table in the back corner. It’s a four-seater, but it’s already set just for two, the selected seats next to each other, both angled out to face the rest of the dining room.

“Here you are, miss.” The host pulls a chair out for me.

I slide into the space between the chair and table, but before he can push my chair in, Dom crowds into the space, forcing the host to step back.

I bite down on the urge to laugh and let Dom push my chair in as I sit, forgetting about the fact that Dominic never checked in or even said his name when we got here.

Dom is lowering himself into his chair when a server reaches our table.

“I’ll give you a moment with the menu,” she says as she fills our water glasses. “But if you’d like to start with a drink, let me know.”

She has trouble looking at Dom and instead bounces her gaze between me and the table.

Taking pity on her, because I get it, he’s too hot to look at, I decide a drink is the perfect thing. “Can I have a margarita on the rocks, please?”

She nods. “Of course. Do you have a tequila preference?”

“Oh. Um…” I look to Dom.

It’s not like I’ve never bought tequila or ordered a specific one, but this place seems a little fancier than what I’m used to. And I don’t want to ask for something stupid.

Understanding my hesitation, Dominic requests one that starts with an r and ends with my panties disintegrating. He pronounces it like he’s speaking another language, and I wonder if he’s bilingual.

And I’m too distracted staring at his mouth to even hear what he orders for himself.

“That okay?” Dominic asks, his attention back on me.

I bite my lip as I nod, then blurt out, “Do you speak Spanish?”

“To my grandfather’s complete sadness, I’m sure, I do not.” He shakes his head with a self-deprecating huff. “Just enough to get by.”

“Like ordering drinks?”

Dom tips his head. “Like that.”

“So your grandfather…” I trail off, unsure if I should be asking this. And unsure if I really want to open the discussion of family because there’s only so much I want to share about my own.

But Dom doesn’t look offended or upset at my question. He looks pleased. “I don’t remember him much. He passed away when I was little. But my grandmother, his wife, was around a lot longer, and based on the stories she told me, I think he would’ve liked you.”

“Me?” My brows shoot up.

Dominic has never shied away from saying whatever he feels, but this feels extra… personal. Something you might say when your significant other finally meets your family.

“Yeah, Shorty. You.”