“Sinclair,” Dom said, swearing.
Jesse strode down the driveway. It was a moment before Dom caught up with him, bare feet slapping against concrete. He grabbed Jesse’s arm, then released him just as quickly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to grab you.”
From the corner of his eye, Jesse realized that Dom had pulled on his pants, and nothing else. He hadn’t even buttoned up—he just left his fly zipped shut, his knot a telling bump.
What would that have felt like inside him?
“What?” Jesse snapped, hating that he was curious about Dom’s knot, of all things.
Dom hesitated. Then he lightly grasped Jesse’s elbow and leaned in, pressing his lips to Jesse’s forehead—a soft, warm touch. “Just wanted to say good night. That’s all.”
Jesse froze, his breath snagging in his throat. What was that about?
They’d done so many inappropriate-as-hell things tonight. But the kiss? Why? They were supposed to hate each other.
“I hate you,” Jesse said, but he wasn’t sure about that anymore.
Dom gave a crooked smile. “That’s fine. Still need a cab?”
Jesse turned away so Dom couldn’t see the flush that threatened to creep up his neck. “I’m fine.”
“Sure.”
He shook off Dom’s touch, striding down the sidewalk to a busier road. Whatever this thing was between him and Dom... it wouldn’t last.
But that didn’t explain the weight of Dom’s gaze on him, either, all the way until Jesse stepped out of his sight.
16
The Donut Mystery
It wasn’t until two days later, when Jesse was getting ready for his shift, hoping there’d be another chocolate donut on his locker, that the irony of donut struck him.
He froze, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror.
Donut, Dom had said the other night. Anything else, and it’ll mean ‘Fuck me, Dom.’
Dom had watched him eat donuts for a long while. He always swore when Jesse licked his fingers after.
But had he used donut as a safeword because he’d seen Jesse eat them, or... had he been the one leaving those treats?
His heart pounding, Jesse left for work ten minutes early.
The donuts were always on his locker by the time he arrived—granted, he’d been dawdling in the station’s parking lot, sniffing at that blackwood scent.
Today, he pulled his bike in and parked, and sniffed again. Dom’s scent was stronger—fresher—because he’d only just arrived. Jesse’s heart skipped. He put away his helmet, hurrying into the station. Harris raised his eyebrows. “You’re early today.”
“Morning,” Jesse said. At least Harris didn’t comment on how the latest bar night had gone.
He headed toward the locker room, keeping a ear out for Dom’s voice—there was nothing. But he found a very distinct trail of blackwood on his way.
Maybe this was all just a mistake. Maybe Jesse was wrong.
He paused at the locker room, held his breath, and pushed the door open.
There was someone standing in front of his locker. Someone with gray-streaked hair and broad shoulders, someone who made his stomach flip.
Jesse stepped in, suddenly realizing he had no idea what he wanted to say to Dom. How should he act around his deputy? They’d fucked. Dom had felt him come apart.
What did that make them?
Dom turned, his nostrils flared like he’d smelled Jesse. His hands were up, Jesse noticed. Like he’d been hanging—
There was a small bag on his locker. A donut. On that plastic hook that Jesse couldn’t bear to remove.
Dom cleared his throat, stepping away.
All the times Jesse had bitten into the donuts, hoping to spite Dom with his mystery-giver’s gifts... All the times he’d scowled at Dom, tucking the donut under his arm...
He wanted to travel back into the past, and smack himself over the head. You went and ate Dom’s donuts right in front of him, you idiot! Dom had secretly been laughing at Jesse, hadn’t he?
“It was you,” Jesse blurted, so furious with himself that he didn’t know what to do.
“Maybe.” Dom tucked his hands into his pockets. He almost looked sheepish.
Jesse barreled forward, hot anger pumping through his veins. Better to feel angry, than embarrassed. “Damn you,” he muttered, slamming his fist into Dom’s chest. Where it wouldn’t hurt so much. “You stupid fucker, you’ve been stringing me along—”
“I strung you along?” Dom raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“You—” Jesse bit down his words. He didn’t want to admit that he’d thought maybe someone else at the station liked him. He didn’t want to admit to eating the donuts in front of Dom, hoping it would make Dom jealous.
He’d thought all those things, and now he felt so stupid for thinking them. “Nothing,” he snapped. “Whatever.”
Jesse whirled around, thinking of leaving the locker room so he could scrape together his dignity.
Plastic crinkled. “If you don’t want it, I’ll throw it away,” Dom said.
Jesse froze, abandoning all thought of leaving. He could already taste the chocolate on his tongue, the sweetness of the donut. He could already feel the airy lightness of the treat between his teeth.
As much as he hated that Dom had bought it, he didn’t want it gone.
When he said nothing, Dom stepped toward the trashcan, heavy thuds of his boots on the tiled floor. Jesse turned, horrified.
Instead of dropping the bag into the bin, Dom met his eyes. “If you want it, you’ll have to take it back from me.”
Those words rang in his head. If Jesse went after that donut, it was as good as telling Dom he liked those gifts.
Dom smirked. “Not good enough? Should I toss it in the dumpster outside?”
It was one thing to rescue a donut from the trashcan. But Jesse had just shown up for work, and he couldn’t just step into a dumpster, not without climbing out smelling like trash. He tried to convince himself to walk away. To let Dom do whatever with that donut.
It was just a donut.
But Dom had been buying them for him for a long time.
Dom strode toward the exit—he really was heading for the dumpster. Jesse’s stomach clenched; he lunged, reaching for that little clear bag. Dom swept it high above their heads, out of Jesse’s
