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“I meant what I said. I can’t give you anything.” Dom’s eyes lifted to his.

“I’m not asking you to.” Gavin let his thumb run over Dom’s full bottom lip. “Tell me to stop.”

Dom gripped the counter behind him, and Gavin waited. He needed the choice to be Dom’s. Not something that happened because he pushed or because the wine had blurred the edges of restraint. Dom could step back. He could say no. Gavin would walk away.

Instead, Dom looked at him for one long, unsteady heartbeat. Then, with a quiet, shaky breath, he reached out. His damp fingers caught in the front of Gavin’s shirt and he pulled him toward him, their mouths meeting hard enough to steal the air from Gavin’s lungs. For one suspended second, there was no thought. There was only the warmth of Dom’s mouth against his, the solid weight of him pressed against Gavin, and the unmistakable relief that whatever this was, neither of them had felt it alone.

He pulled back to take a breath, then slid one hand behind Dom’s neck, his thumb brushing the warm skin behind his ear as he kissed him again. The first kiss had been surprise and surrender, but the second was slower, asking a question Dom answered immediately. His lips parted beneath Gavin’s, soft and warm and tasting faintly of tomatoes and garlic, and his fingers twisted in Gavin’s shirt. His other hand found Gavin’s waist and slid around to rest on the small of his back. Then he melted toward him, and that small shift nearly undid him.

Gavin had imagined kissing him. He’d tried not to, but imagination was difficult to control at two in the morning when he scrolled through their text history because he couldn’t sleep. None of those imaginings came close to the real thing.

Dom kissed like he probably did everything else, without reserve once he finally committed. All of his energy surged forward at once, and his grip tightened, drawing Gavin closer until there was no space left between them. Gavin angled his head and deepened the kiss. Dom opened for him with a quiet, broken sound that went right through him. Gavin’s thumb brushed the rapid pulse beneath Dom’s jaw, and Dom shuddered against him. The reaction stripped away the last of Gavin’s reason.

He backed Dom fully against the counter, bracing one hand on the marble. Dom’s fingers slid into Gavin’s hair, holding him there as though Gavin might reconsider and move away. He wouldn’t have been able to if he tried. The kiss was too much and not nearly enough. Dom’s mouth moved against his with a desperation Gavin recognized because it mirrored his own.

The baby monitor crackled, but neither of them stopped. For one reckless moment, Gavin thought he’d imagined the sound. Then Lucia’s cry broke through their passion, and Dom froze. The sound came again, thin and unhappy through the monitor. He tore his mouth from Gavin’s and his head turned toward the sound, the loss of contact immediate and brutal.

Gavin’s hand remained at the back of Dom’s neck, and Dom’s fingers were still tangled in his shirt. They stood there for one suspended second, bodies pressed together while Lucia’s cries filled the room. Then Dom released him, stepping sideways so quickly that he almost stumbled.

“Shit.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Dom barely looked at him. He reached for the monitor, his hand unsteady as he checked the screen. “She’s awake.”

Gavin took a step back, the space between them cold after the heat of the kiss. Dom’s lips were swollen and his hair had fallen forward across his forehead where Gavin’s fingers had disturbed it. The sight might have made him smile if panic hadn’t already begun to replace the desire in Dom’s expression.

“I should…” Dom gestured toward the stairs. “I need to get her.”

“I know.”

But Dom didn’t move. He dragged a hand through his hair, turning it into a bigger mess. “I’m sorry.”

The words felt like a door closing, and Gavin kept his expression still. “For kissing me?”

“That shouldn’t have happened.”

The sting of his words was sharper than he expected. It must have reflected on his face because Dom immediately shook his head.

“No. That came out wrong.” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I don’t mean I didn’t want it.”

“That part was pretty clear,” Gavin said dryly.

A breath of startled laughter escaped Dom, gone almost as soon as it appeared. Then Lucia cried again, and Dom flinched.

“I told you I couldn’t do this,” he said softly. “I invited you here and cooked dinner and let Evan and CJ make it sound like a date, and then I…” He trailed off, and his eyes dropped briefly to Gavin’s mouth before darting away. “I made everything confusing.”

“You didn’t kiss yourself, Dom.”

“I pulled you in.”

“I touched you first,” Gavin countered.

“You were going to stop.” Dom closed his eyes.

Gavin understood then. Dom was trying to make the kiss into something he could control. A mistake could be apologized for. A lapse in judgment could be explained away. But wanting Gavin, truly wanting him, threatened the promise Dom had built his new life around. As long as this was a momentary failure of resolve, he could convince himself that nothing had really changed.

It didn’t matter that Gavin had known about that promise from the beginning. Or that Gavin had made a similar one after Ethan. Neither of them had planned for wanting to become the problem, and Gavin still felt the sting of Dom pulling back like a bruise he couldn’t stop pressing.