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Dom walks behind me until we get to the top of the ramp and step into the Minneapolis airport. Then he moves to my side and matches his steps to mine.
The movement of his hands draws my attention, and my brows knit together when I look down at what he’s doing.
Dom has rolled up his fancy suit jacket inside out so the blue silk interior is the only part showing. And he’s shaped it like… like a giant burrito.
Dom tucks the bundle into the crook of his arm and presses his free hand against my lower back. “This way.”
I look at the jacket and gape because it looks like he’s holding a baby.
Sweet Mariah Carey. Could you imagine?
And then I look up at what’s in front of us. What he’s steering us toward.
I glance back down at the fake baby bundle, then up at the bright white free-standing lactation room situated along the wall in the main hallway.
“Dominic,” I sort of hiss.
“We’ll go in here, Mama.” Dom doesn’t keep his voice down. And the way he says “Mama” sounds different this time. Like he’s saying it as a title, not a pet name.
As if he timed it, the door to the pod swings open, and a woman with a baby strapped to her chest steps out.
Dominic stretches his free arm out, catching the door and holding it open for her so she can get her luggage out.
“Thank you.” She beams up at Dom, not even sparing a look at hisinfant.
And because my lust is stronger than my decency, I let Dom nod me forward into the lactation pod.
I let him hold the door as I go inside.
I let him step in behind me—with our fake baby in his arms.
I let him lock the door.
There’s a small mirror on the wall directly in front of me, and the dim lighting above allows me to see the expression on Dom’s face.
It’s hunger.
Need.
Desire.
Dominic tosses his jacket onto the bench seat on our left, my backpack following it.
Then he steps closer.
His height puts his head above mine, and I watch his eyes as he looks at me in the reflection.
“What…” I trail off.
I don’t really need to ask what we’re doing in here. But he answers me anyway.
“I need a taste of you, Angel. A taste of whatever you’ll give me.”
My eyes immediately jump to the abstract drawing of a pair of boobs on the wall.
Dom groans. “Fuck, Valentine, I’d kill for just a kiss. But I’ll taste those too if you let me.”
My gaze snaps back to meet his in the mirror.
