Page 110 of Hard Bargain

One-time thing, he’d remind himself.

One-time thing.

His body would laugh at him.

And then there were the moments that were worse than all the rest. The ones where Knox would look up and find Dominic already watching him. Color would rise to Knox’s cheeks and he would glance away, suddenly fascinated by anything else in the room.

Knox would stand there with his pulse hammering and think: You feel it too. You absolute bastard. You feel it too and you’re pretending you don’t.

He never said it. He didn’t need to.

The air between them said it constantly.

Chapter 29

Dominic

The plan had gone exactly the way it was supposed to. Mercer’s warehouse had folded in under twenty minutes. The product was secured, routes exposed, and Mercer’s men either scattered or were left bleeding before they could organize anything resembling resistance. No surprises and no loose ends.

That alone was enough to put Dominic in a better mood than usual. They ended up at one of his bars to celebrate. Low lighting, dark finishes, and a steady beat of music wove through the room. It was busy, but not chaotic. There were plenty of people to keep the energy up, and the drinks moved fast. It was the kind of place where the night stretched, but never slipped.

Cassian dropped into a booth and reached for the bottle of whiskey that had materialized the moment they walked in. “Now this,” he said, pouring generously, “is how you follow a job like that.”

One of his men laughed, accepting the glass. “Mercer’s going to feel that. He’s going to be pissed.”

“Good,” Cassian replied easily. “He messed with the wrong people.”

Dominic sat across from them and reached for his own drink. The movement tugged at the healing cut along his arm, just enough to remind him it was still there. A reminder Mercer hadn’t suffered enough yet.

His gaze lifted. Knox was already watching him. He registered that unwavering focus at once, as if Knox had been studying him for minutes and had no intention of stopping. The directness sent a sharp jolt through him, landing square between his ribs.

He took a slow drink and let the burn settle into something grounding. Across from him, Knox leaned back, one arm draped along the back of the booth. There was still an unsettled buzz in him from earlier, adrenaline that hadn’t fully burned off. Dominic could see it in the way his fingers moved against the glass, in the way his gaze drifted—and came back to him.

Always came back.

The first drink went down easy. So did the second. The edge of the night softened as the conversation around the table stayed light. Cassian’s voice rose and fell as the others joined in, but it didn’t hold Dominic’s attention for long.

After a while, Cassian pushed to his feet and dragged the others toward the pool table with a grin and a whiskey bottle.

That left him alone with Knox.

Over the past week, he’d caught him staring more than once. It hadn’t been subtle—Knox’s eyes on his arms, his hands, his mouth, drifting away too late and returning too soon. What was even less subtle was the fact that the eye contact had all but disappeared. Knox avoided it now, breaking away the second it happened.

Dominic found that more annoying than he should have.

Tonight, Knox wasn’t looking away. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. His posture was loose in a way that didn’t match the focus in his eyes—like the adrenaline and the whiskey had stripped away whatever caution had been keeping him in check all week.

Dominic let the moment stretch. The noise of the bar continued around them, but Knox held the center of his attention. He shifted the glass between his fingers. “What did you think?” he asked.

Knox didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “About tonight?”

A nod.

Knox exhaled, gaze drifting for a second before returning. “It was a success.”

“Yes. But what did you think?”

Knox’s mouth twitched, amusement clear in his eyes. He leaned forward, forearms on the table, closer without making a show of it. “You want the real answer?”