“When is the hearing?”
“Two weeks.”
“Okay, this is what we’re going to do.” I give a sideways glance, hoping I’m not crossing a line. Dom is not one to let someone else run the show. Especially if it’s his show.
When he doesn’t say anything, I continue. “We are going to go back out and help Aunt Sofia with the dishes.”
“Oh God, did she put the guilt trip on you?”
“I can’t tell, but maybe. Then we are going to sit down and enjoy the amazing dessert. I refuse to pass up homemade cannoli. Also, your aunt Sofia can be a little scary, and I feel like she would threaten violence to my right testicle if I refused.”
His shoulders bounce with laughter, and I give him an extra tight hug. When he pulls back and looks into my eyes, I see a man searching for something, and I hope like fuck he finds it.
He hooks a finger under my chin and tips my face up. The first brush of his mouth is soft, then he deepens it, tongue tracing the seam of my lips. I open for him without thinking. Heat rolls through me in a red-hot wave. He kisses like he means it, like he’s taking a breath after being underwater, and I give him everything he asks for—pressure, pace, a low sound I don’t mean to make but can’t swallow down.
Kissing has never really done it for me in the past. But it also doesn’t surprise me that with Dom it’s intoxicating.
My hands slide to his hips and drag him closer, while his palm cups my jaw, anchoring me. He tastes of sugar and fennel and the simmering tomatoes still clinging to the house. When he nips, I chase. When he licks into my mouth, I answer, greedy and grateful. The world narrows, echoing the wrecked noises we’re both making.
I let myself get lost in the sensation of it all.
He finally breaks the kiss, but I follow for one more, and one more after that—small, hungry aftershocks—before our foreheads fall together, breaths mingling.
I take two steadying breaths, then a third, because I absolutely cannot walk into Aunt Sofia’s kitchen with a full-blown boner.
“Are you ready?” I manage, voice rougher than I intended.
“I should be asking you that,” he says, looking down at the bulge in my pants.
“Maybe ifyoudidn’t make me hard in your aunt Sofia’s bathroom, I wouldn’t have this problem,” I mutter.
“All I did was kiss you,” he says, leaning in again.
“Oh no you don’t. If we have to stay in here any longer in order for my dick to calm down again, she’s gonna know.”
Dom chuckles. “She’d probably bake us a cake.”
“I hope it’s tiramisu,” I say, amused.
He smirks, thumb sweeping my bottom lip like he’s tempted to start again. “Consider it motivation to behave.”
“Cannoli first,” I say, kissing his smile once more—quick, electric. “Then I’m misbehaving.”
He raises a brow, and I laugh, opening the door and pulling him with me.
We spend the next hour at his aunt’s kitchen table, eating cannoli while she tells me all the embarrassing Dom stories.
“He had just come to live with me. And bless him, he was trying to make me dinner. Boy, I don’t know what he put in the spaghetti sauce, but ragu would’ve tasted better.”
“And that’s why I don’t cook. Scarred me for life,” Dom says.
Laughter echoes throughout the kitchen. Seeing the love and affection between Dom and his aunt fills my soul but also makes me sad.
I miss my dad so much my heart breaks all over again every time I think too much about him. My father was my rock. He was a loving person. When I came out, he just hugged me and said, “Cool, I’m happy for you. I know how hard that was to admit.” Like he was more focused on me overcoming my fear of telling him than on my being gay. Like it was no big deal. And my mother, well… Fuck her.
“Beckett, dear. I’m going to hand this to you,” Sophia says, pulling out two containers of what I can only assume is spaghetti sauce. “Make sure it makes it into his freezer. And when he’s running low, please make sure you call me.” She slips me a piece of paper with her phone number on it. I stare down at it, then back at her. “Thank you.”
“And Domenico, if I ever hear about you serving spaghetti sauce from a jar again, I will cut off the fruits of your labor.”
