Page 104 of Full Throttle

“What do you want from me, Hastings?”

Dominic licked cold water from his lips. “I don’t know. I…” I want to kiss you. I want to tell you everything that happened two years ago, but I can’t. “We’re teammates. I want to help you.”

Juliette’s smile was wry. “That’s right. Teammates.” She dropped her hand. “What if I told you that I wanted to sleep with someone?”

A strange ringing began in his ears. “I—What?”

“Sinclair,” Juliette said, with the ease of listing off groceries. “Or Liêm. Or anyone who isn’t you. Wouldn’t that make things easier?” She took a step forward. “Would that make you happy?”

Dominic stiffened. He knew that she was goading him, but he couldn’t stop his heart from racing, couldn’t stop his hands from clenching into fists. Something primitive curled in his chest. Mine, it growled, because it was an idiot. He had no right to her.

“No,” Dominic said, his teeth clenched.

Juliette crossed her arms. “No?”

“No,” Dominic said tightly. “It wouldn’t make me happy. Even the thought of that…” Sinclair’s hands under her shirt. His mouth on her throat. Blood roared in his ears. “I fucking hate that idea. Is that what you want to hear?”

Her gaze was a challenge. “Tell me what you want.”

Dominic drew a breath. “I’m just…” I’m just jealous. I’m just furious. I’m just desperately in love with you, and it seems impossible to me that anyone who knows you wouldn’t be in love with you too.

“Just what?”

“I can’t stop myself,” Dominic said raggedly, “from wanting you. And I’ve tried.” His laugh was humorless. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

She tipped her head back. “And everything else?”

Thunder roared overhead. The dinner jacket had slipped from Juliette’s shoulder, exposing soaked skin. He could count every water droplet clinging to her eyelashes. The city lights turned the ends of her hair to copper. And heaven help him, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Fuck everything else,” Dominic growled. “I only want you.”

He burrowed his hand in her damp hair. She was looking up at him with blazing blue eyes, her mouth set in that deliciously stubborn way. His eyes flicked to her mouth in a silent question—a silent plea, if he was honest with himself—and she gave a breathless nod. Yes, her eyes said. Yes, yes, yes.

He kissed her hungrily. Thoroughly. She tasted of rainwater and wine, mint and strawberry lip balm. So damned addictive. Juliette made a little noise, something needy and distinctly her, and arousal spiked through him.

Juliette fisted her hands into his hair. He was pushing her into the railing, Dom realized dizzily, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. All he could focus on was how good she felt. How good she tasted. He felt half-drugged, too hopped up on adrenaline to feel the rain lashing at his neck.

And he wanted more. Fuck, did he ever. He’d never been this hard in his life.

Juliette reached for his trousers, and Dominic staggered back, his breath coming in harsh pants. “Wait. I can’t—” His head spun. “My self-control only goes so far.”

“Good,” Juliette said firmly.

She unhooked a button on his trousers. Dominic gritted his teeth.

“Marchmont.”

Her hands felt so good, so unbelievably perfect. It was taking every ounce of self-control not to push her against the nearest pillar and fuck her senseless. Dominic gripped the railing until his palms stung.

“This is a terrible idea,” he managed to say.

“I don’t care,” Juliette said. “I want you.”

Dominic cast his eyes skyward. “Not here. You deserve better than this.” How many times had he imagined this moment? Hundreds, probably. But it had always taken place in a dimly lit bedroom with firelight warming a red wine glass. Not on the roof of an Italian cathedral in what was looking increasingly like a gale-force storm.

“Hastings,” Juliette said. “Look at me.” There was only steely resolve in her gaze. Resolve, and a hot desire that nearly had him on his knees. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”

His self-control was on a knife’s edge. “Juliette…”