Jesse swallowed all the obscenities he wanted to hurl at his deputy. “Thanks for giving me a chance on the team. I really appreciate it.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Dom’s stare hardened; his lips thinned. “It wasn’t my choice. If it were, you’d be long gone by now.”
Who the fuck said shit like that? Jesse stared, trying to believe what he’d just heard. “Pardon?”
“You heard me.” Dom didn’t even look like he possessed an ounce of remorse.
Hot anger bubbled through Jesse’s gut. I say thanks, and this is how you react? You’re seriously a deputy? He clenched his fists, forcing down the temptation to lunge at Dom. But he let himself stalk forward, closing the distance between them. Until his chest bumped against Dom’s and his cock rubbed against the rough fabric of Dom’s pants.
Dom’s copper-brown stare pierced his eyes, unrelenting. His breath soughed onto Jesse’s mouth, and that taunting blackwood scent filled Jesse’s lungs.
“Fuck you,” Jesse breathed, almost dizzy with how much he wanted to punch this man. “I’m gonna stay, and I’m gonna prove you so damn wrong, you’ll wish you’d never said that to me.”
Dom held his stare. In the barest hint of a whisper, he answered, “What makes you think you’ll be the one doing the fucking?”
It took Jesse a second to wrap his mind around that. Another moment for him to realize that Dom was talking to him about fucking. And that Dom wouldn’t be the one on the bottom. No, he would fuck Jesse into the ground.
A dark thrill shot down Jesse’s spine.
Before he could begin to react, Dom pushed back, his chest solid against Jesse’s, his bulge grinding onto the bare skin of Jesse’s cock—which was even more sensitive now that it was half-hard. Pleasure shot down Jesse’s nerves; it was the first touch he’d gotten there in a while. And it had been from Dom.
“Fuck you anyway,” Jesse hissed.
“You’ll never win this,” Dom murmured, his eyes flashing. His nostrils flared, like he was memorizing Jesse’s scent.
With a final hard thrust—coarse fabric scraped against Jesse’s cock in a mix of discomfort and pleasure—Dom whirled around, striding out of the locker room.
His sudden absence left a draft of cool air against Jesse’s front. Jesse’s erection jutted up traitorously; he hated that it had reacted to Dom that way.
He flipped Dom off with both his hands. Didn’t matter that Dom wasn’t here to see it. Then, before Gareth could turn and glimpse Jesse’s hard-on, Jesse pulled on his underwear, hiding his arousal with a spare pair of pants.
He wasn’t going to jerk off to that bastard. He just wasn’t.
The only person he hated more than Dom, was that crazy psychopath, Dr. Larson. And it was a very good thing that Larson was now in prison.
5
Bar Nights Part 1
Of all things, Alec had to invite Sinclair to bar night. Worse, Dom had agreed to show up—because he always did. That was before he’d found out that Sinclair would be there, too.
He stared at his reflection, straightening his collar. Trimmed a few stray hairs off his eyebrows.
He was stalling. In fact, he was running kind of late, because he was still hanging on to the possibility that he could sit this one out.
Bar nights were a chance for Dom to kick back with his team, talk about stupid things, and not have their conversations interrupted every ten minutes by a call. Bar nights were when Dom went a bit easier on his family—just slightly. But he talked about things he liked, he listened to his friends, and... became better friends with them.
It was part of bonding. But he was not willing to bond, in any way, shape, or form, with Jesse Sinclair. The stakes were too high. Especially after that incident in the locker room. When Sinclair had rubbed up against him, and all of Dom’s instincts had roared, Pin him.
Sinclair was Dom’s subordinate. He was half Dom’s age, old enough to be his son, and Dom couldn’t get that thick, flushed cock out of his mind.
It had just been curiosity. Dom had wondered what sort of cock that alpha had. Then he’d found it growing bigger, as though Sinclair was responding to Dom looking at him.
Stop thinking about that. He scrubbed his face, swallowing a mouthful of water from the faucet. You just need to get laid.
But who was Sinclair to disrupt Dom’s routines?
Yeah, actually. Bar nights had begun with Gareth and Dom, back when Gareth had dragged Dom out for a drink. They’d started inviting more of their team, and it had grown into a sort of tradition. Dom had been to almost every single one of those nights. And he wasn’t going to let someone like Sinclair put him off.
Teeth gritted, Dom checked his appearance in the mirror, grabbed his coat, and set off for downtown.
As he stepped out of the cab, and as he saw the familiar logo of his favorite bar, he thought he smelled a distinct cinnamon scent. Dom’s blood thrummed. No, I’m not fucking him tonight. Not ever.
He straightened his coat and puffed up his chest, stepping into the bar. Because he was in charge.
The team was in its usual spot in the back, where it was a little quieter. Dom headed over. They’d left an empty seat for him.
It wasn’t until he was right next to the table, that he realized Gareth was smirking. Two alphas flanked the empty seat—Alec, and someone with broad shoulders and a scarred, shaved head. Dom’s cock jerked. Damn it.
As he drew his chair back, Sinclair stiffened.
“Nice of you to join us, Dom,” Gareth drawled. He was wearing a shit-eating grin. “You were so late, we saved a seat for you.”
Chances were, ten to one, Gareth had put Sinclair right next to Dom’s seat. Dom brushed his hand through his hair, leaving his middle finger discreetly up.
Gareth wasn’t even the slightest bit cowed. He sipped from his drink. “Stuck
