Page 62 of Full Throttle

Water ran in rivulets over her collarbones. Dominic inhaled sharply. His first thought was that he’d never noticed her eyes before; they were a very precise shade of blue, something that reminded him of the vivid tiles inside the Moroccan mosques that his father used to visit.

His second thought was that he needed to get out of this shower. Now.

Dominic jerked his gaze away. “I should…” Juliette raised a hand to his face, and he flinched. “Don’t.”

Her fingers hovered. “Why not?”

Dominic almost laughed. How could she not see? It wasn’t so much that he was older, or that she was Cap’s sister, or even that he was her instructor for the summer. The academy had no rules against this sort of thing, so long as the relationship was between two consenting adults. He could happily march up to HR tomorrow and say that they were in a relationship, and that would be the end of it.

No.

The issue lay in the fact that she was drunk and naked and that he wanted her. And the thought scared the hell out of him.

“Not tonight,” he said.

“Why not?” Juliette moved closer, and he could see water droplets clinging to her dark lashes. Smell the odd mixture of blood and strawberry bodywash. “You’re my instructor. So teach me.”

Dominic closed his eyes. The tile wall was cool against his back. Something burned in his chest, and it felt like absinthe going down, the sort of searing heat that you choked on. He’d only drunk the stuff once, at a classmate’s fifteenth birthday party, but he’d never forgotten the taste of it. Some things altered you that way.

“Teach me,” Juliette repeated softly.

She raised a hand, and Dominic tensed.

“You’re drunk.”

She smiled. “Not that drunk.”

Heat radiated from her damp skin. She traced the shape of his jaw, her fingers featherlight, and Dominic flinched.

“No.” He caught her wrist firmly. “Not like this.”

He fumbled for the shower door, pushing half-blindly into the bedroom. A pulse hammered in his throat. Desire, yes, but also disgust. Disgust with himself for how tempted he’d been, for how badly he’d wanted her. Did that make him better than Nate? Than any of those other boys who had taken advantage of her? Dominic didn’t stop until he hit the corridor, flushed and panting. Then he closed his eyes, knocking his head lightly against the wall.

Fuck.

He was so screwed, wasn’t he?

Chapter 20

Spinning Out

Now

Dominic looked at an oil can and wondered briefly whether it would make a suitable vessel to be sick into.

Pit crew scurried around the team garage, carrying wrenches and tires. The sound of drilling burrowed deep into his skull and he grimaced, massaging his temples. He was never drinking again. Especially on a race weekend. This was the hangover from hell.

He looked up. Juliette was speaking with Robert Von Galen, gesturing at a computer monitor. She seemed remarkably perky for someone who had ingested half a bottle of whiskey last night; her dark hair was in a neat ponytail, and she was sipping something that looked vaguely like battery acid. As if she sensed his gaze, she looked up. Then she leaned closer to the computer monitor, gesticulating more forcefully.

So Marchmont was ignoring him.

Fine.

He didn’t care.

Dominic looked at the oil can. The oil can looked back at him.

“Oh no,” Ranya said. “Not you too.”