The tension between them lingered long after Dominic's words had settled in the air. Elijah stood there, heart pounding, feeling the weight of something he wasn't sure he could carry. Dominic had made it clear—this wasn't a game, and he wasn't a man who allowed second chances.
But if that were true, why did he keep pulling Elijah back in?
Elijah exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You keep telling me to stay away," he muttered, "but you're the one who won't let me go."
Dominic's grip tightened around the glass in his hand, his knuckles turning white. He took a slow sip of his drink, as if steadying himself, before setting it down on the table. His piercing gaze locked onto Elijah, unreadable yet filled with something raw, something dangerous.
"I'm giving you a choice, Elijah," Dominic said, his voice low, almost threatening. "Walk away now, and I'll let you. But if you stay… there's no turning back."
Elijah's chest tightened. A part of him wanted to take the out, to turn around and leave before he got too deep. But another part of him—a reckless, stubborn part—refused to back down. Dominic had already dug himself under his skin, and no matter how much he tried to fight it, Elijah knew he was past the point of escape.
So, instead of leaving, he stepped forward.
"I don't run, Dominic," Elijah said, voice firm. "Not from you. Not from this."
Something flickered in Dominic's expression—approval, maybe. Or maybe something darker.
He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his fingers reaching out to grip Elijah's jaw, forcing him to look up. The air between them turned electric, the unspoken war raging between them threatening to explode.
"You have no idea what you're asking for," Dominic murmured.
Elijah's breath hitched, but he refused to look away. "Then show me."
Dominic let out a low, humorless chuckle before his lips crashed against Elijah's, claiming him with a bruising intensity.
Elijah barely had time to process it before he was being pushed against the wall, Dominic's body pressing into his, heat radiating between them. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was possession.
And Elijah had never wanted anything more.
His fingers tangled in Dominic's shirt, gripping onto him as if he were the only solid thing in the world. The kiss was rough, all teeth and desperation, and yet Elijah found himself melting into it, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation of Dominic's dominance.
Dominic pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, "You still sure you can handle this?"
Elijah swallowed hard, his chest heaving. His mind was screaming at him to be careful, but his body—the way it responded to Dominic—told him a different story.
"Try me," Elijah breathed.
A dark smirk ghosted over Dominic's lips.
"Careful what you wish for, Eli."
Elijah's breath stuttered at the name. Only Dominic called him that. It sounded intimate, dangerous—like a promise.
And Elijah wasn't sure if he should be thrilled or terrified.
Elijah's head was spinning. His body was still pinned against the wall, Dominic's presence overwhelming him in every possible way. His lips tingled from the bruising kiss, and his breath came in short, ragged bursts.
He should push Dominic away. He should tell him to stop, to slow down, to give him a moment to think.
But he didn't.
Instead, he stared up at Dominic, his heart pounding so hard he was sure the mafia boss could hear it.
Dominic's fingers brushed over Elijah's lips, tracing the curve of his mouth with a touch that was surprisingly gentle, considering the raw intensity of what had just happened.
"You don't get it, do you?" Dominic murmured.
Elijah swallowed, trying to steady himself. "Get what?"
Dominic's jaw clenched, his grip tightening just slightly on Elijah's chin. "That I don't do halfway. If I want something, I take it. And if I take you, Elijah, you won't belong to anyone else."
The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down Elijah's spine.
Dominic wasn't just talking about sex. He was talking about ownership, about something deeper and far more dangerous.
Elijah scoffed, trying to keep himself from drowning in the intensity of it all. "Last I checked, I'm not some piece of property you can claim."
Dominic smirked, but there was no humor in it. "You think so?"
Before Elijah could respond, Dominic leaned in again, his lips grazing Elijah's ear. His voice was a low whisper, dripping with promise and warning.
"Then why do you keep coming back?"
Elijah stiffened.
Because he was an idiot. Because no matter how many times he told himself this was a bad idea, he still found himself drawn to Dominic like a moth to a flame.
And everyone knew what happened to the moth in the end.
But Elijah wasn't going to let himself burn so easily.
With a smirk of his own, he pushed against Dominic's chest—not hard enough to actually move him, but just enough to make a point.
"Maybe I just like messing with you," Elijah teased, tilting his head.
Dominic's eyes darkened. "Careful, Eli."
The nickname. Again.
It sent something sharp through Elijah's chest, something warm and confusing and entirely unwanted.
Dominic ran his thumb over Elijah's lower lip, his expression unreadable. "One day, you're going to push too far."
Elijah arched a brow. "And what happens then?"
Dominic's smirk widened, but this time, it was predatory.
"You'll find out."
Elijah wasn't sure if that was a threat or a promise.
But either way, he knew he wasn't ready for it.